The Boy Who Has No Redemption (Soulless 8)

“Maybe you should see a therapist to work out these issues—”

“Not wanting to be in a relationship means there’s something wrong with me?” I asked incredulously. “You’re being very closed-minded.”

“No. I just know you deserve more—”

“But I don’t want it. I’m sorry that I hurt you, Emerson. Really, I am. But that’s just how it goes sometimes.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he looked at me. “That’s just how it goes?”

“I got my heart broken. It happens to all of us.”

He didn’t say anything, but he shook his head slightly, more to himself than to me.

“Are we done with this conversation?” I wanted to move on, to get on with my life, to forget about this trial period where I attempted to be something better and it blew up in my face.

Dad rubbed his palms together as he stared at them, taking a long pause as he organized his thoughts before he shared them with me. “Derek, this is the most important thing I’m going to say to you. I hope you take it seriously. And after I say it, I’ll leave it alone.”

“Alright.” Finally, the end.

He lifted his chin and looked me in the eye. “I really believe that Emerson is the best person for you if you want to spend your life with someone who really understands you, accepts you for who you are, who will never betray you the way Tabitha and Kevin did. But you fucked up with her pretty bad, and the love that was once unconditional is waning…fading. If you don’t do something soon—as in, today—you’re going to forfeit any chance of making this right forever. You’re going to lose her for good, and no number of apologies will ever earn her trust again. I’m afraid you’re going to wake up from this sometime in the future…but it’ll be too late. I don’t want to watch you go through that, to have another regret in your life that will haunt you forever. So…please…really think about this.”

I didn’t need to spend another minute thinking about it. I knew how I felt the moment I ended things with her. I didn’t need self-reflection. What was done was done. “I’ll go pack my things, and we’ll get on the road.”

It was obvious that everyone in the family knew about my situation. No one asked about Emerson, they steered clear of hot topics like the rocket and the wedding, and everyone treated me as if I were a fragile vase that would shatter if it weren’t handled carefully.

Grandma mostly talked about the events in her life, and Uncle Tucker told me about his time at the hotel. He was the corporate manager now, so he mainly dealt with paperwork rather than the daily activities of the hotel, which he missed.

They talked about themselves instead of asking about me.

On Christmas Eve, my cousins had their kids open some presents, so we sat together in the living room and watched them rip through the wrapping paper and exclaim in delight when they got toys. We drank wine and hot cocoa while the tree twinkled in the corner and the TV showed a marathon of Christmas movies.

As the night progressed, people filed off to bed, the night deepening until it was two in the morning. I was the last one in the living room, looking at the window with my eyes narrowed because I was certain I spotted something.

Snow.

I left my wineglass behind and stepped outside onto the back deck.

Flakes of snow slowly drifted down from the dark sky, landing on the ground and quickly melting because there wasn’t enough powder accumulated to keep it cold. But then it started to fall harder, plastering the ground with a blanket of white.

“Wow, snow on Christmas Eve.” Dex appeared beside me, wearing his thick coat with his hands in his pockets. “All that wine isn’t going to keep me warm. Maybe I should have chosen the hot cocoa instead.”

I watched the snow fall, listening to the absolute silence that accompanied winter. My breath started to emerge as thick vapor, two streams coming from my nostrils. I’d left my jacket inside and only wore my sweater, but the cold temperature was nice on my warm skin.

“Everyone wants a white Christmas,” Dex said. “Nice, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He stood beside me for a long time, just watching the snow fall.

“How’s the hospital?”

“It gets quiet before Christmas. Surgeries aren’t scheduled because doctors go on vacation, and patients don’t want to recover over Christmas either. It’s the only time of year I can really take a break because I know I’m not missing anything.”

“Makes sense.”

“I read your new book.”

“Yeah? You seem too busy to read.”

“Not if my brother is the author. And I think it’s the best one in the series.”

“Best?”

“Yeah. I felt like your writing deepened, became more emotional, just had this existential touch that I can’t really explain. But it was your best work, hands down. And based on the reviews I’ve seen, I’m not the only one who thinks it.”