Max ended up filling the silence. “Remember that time Dad caught you two doing the dirty in his lounge room? He mentioned that to me the other week.”
Oh God, did I remember. That was something I would never forget. Winter and I had been together for about six months at the time. I was a naïve eighteen-year-old back then; Winter had been twenty, with a lot more life experience than me. I’d only slept with one other guy, and had made Winter wait three months before I’d slept with him. So at the time his father had caught us having sex in his house, we’d been having sex as often as we could, anywhere we could.
Winter chuckled as he took in the flush of my cheeks. It was the first time in days I’d seen anything but pain or anger fill his features, and I liked that Max had made that happen. “Fuck,” he said. “Dad never let me forget that. He must have brought it up at least every few years with me.”
“Really?” I asked. “Why? What did he say?”
His eyes flashed with heat rather than the laughter of a moment ago as he said, “He reminded me that was the kind of love I needed in my life—one filled with fun and passion.”
My pulse raced. My skin tingled. My memories chased away my hesitation with him. “He called me a few times after we broke up. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t. He never told me.” I saw his surprise, but he shouldn’t have been. His dad always had his back.
“He asked me if I’d had a good reason to break your heart.”
A hush fell over us. The room fell away. The noise around us failed to exist. Max was forgotten. It was just our memories, our heartbreak, and us.
“What did you tell him,” Winter asked, the deep gravel I loved in his voice surfacing.
“That I believed I did and that I wished I didn’t.”
“What did he say to that?” Oh God, that gravel.
“He told me that love keeps no record of wrongs. That it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” I’m going to cry if he keeps staring at me like he is.
“Corinthians,” he murmured. “He was always quoting that to me, too.”
“Another time, he told me a strong relationship requires two people who choose to love each other, even when they struggle to like each other.” I paused for a beat. “Your dad was a smart man, Winter. He knew I’d done something and I was fearful of telling you. In each conversation we had, he was trying to tell me you could handle it, that you would still choose to love me regardless of what I’d done. I just felt too much guilt to see this was true.” I reached out for him, placing my hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry.”
For the first time since I’d confessed my secrets to him, he listened to my apology. I didn’t blame him that he hadn’t been able to before. He’d had to process my actions before he could even listen to an apology. And this time, he was listening.
Nodding, he said gruffly, “Dad always told me to get my head out of my ass and go find you again.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck”—he reached for his drink and threw some whisky down his throat—“I should have listened.”
“We both should have,” I said, wishing like hell I had. Wishing like hell I hadn’t wasted all these years.
Winter turne
d to his brother. “Why did Dad bring that up with you? The sex in the lounge room thing.”
Max smiled and drank some of his whisky. “He was trying to help me with my marriage. Told me I should fuck my wife all over the house like you guys used to. Told me I was too fucking uptight and that I should have a little fun with Mel. Mostly though, he was telling me to let go of the muck and remember that the only thing worth holding onto was the love.”
A smile slowly spread out over my face and I shook my head at Max as I mouthed a silent “thank you.” He hadn’t brought that memory up for shits and giggles. He’d brought it up very intentionally. And it had hit the mark. Winter’s eyes were on me, and this time I saw the hope in them that had been missing the last couple of days. I saw the determination that had been missing, too. And I knew that when Winter was determined, nothing stopped him from getting what he wanted.
27
WINTER
I was sitting here looking at the woman I loved, and for the first time in days, I was seeing something other than my anger and disappointment. Birdie had fucked up, and yeah, I was still fucking mad with her about it, but listening to her—really listening to her—and listening to my father through both her and Max, I was reminded of what I’d told her recently. I’d said that cheating was my only hard limit. That life was too fucking short to get hung up on shit that didn’t matter when all was said and done.
She’d done something I didn’t agree with and then she’d kept it from me. When all was said and done, none of that mattered. She loved me. I knew she did. The trouble was, I’d gotten to the crux of my anger with her last night when I’d talked it over with Max, and it didn’t concern any of that. I was angry because we’d lost five years, and I was angry that she’d walked away without giving me the chance to tell her I’d accept what she did. And somewhere in all of that, I struggled to get past my irrational fear she’d leave me again when shit got too fucking hard for her. I knew it was irrational at this point because shit was already fucking hard and yet here she was, still by my side.
Max thought it would just take time. I fucking hoped he was right, because I wanted Birdie just as much as I had before she’d told me what she’d done.
“I’m gonna head home,” Max said, standing. Birdie joined him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug that lasted longer than a usual one. I knew she was thanking him for tonight because he’d helped thaw some ice between us.
He pulled me into a hug after Birdie let him go. “Get in the fucking muck, brother,” he murmured against my ear. “Dad’ll kick your ass when he sees you next if you don’t fix this.”
Don’t I fucking know it.