Page 54 of Merry Little Hate Notes

I placed her hand between my own and caressed it. “I’m here,” I offered, not knowing what else to say, especially since I wondered if I was to blame. All the what-ifs I’d been asking myself for years bombarded me. What if I hadn’t asked Christian to go skiing? What if I’d told him he shouldn’t be drinking? What if I’d never given him that first beer when we were seventeen?

She leaned her head on my shoulder and exhaled loudly. We sat like that for several minutes while neither of us said anything.

Her sniffles broke the silence, and her tears seeped through my shirt.

“Holly,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

I had to own up to what I could. Not everything. Not yet. “I never should have let Christian on the slopes that day. I knew he’d been drinking. It’s my fault he hit that tree and your family fell apart,” I choked out. “You can blame me.”

She lifted her head, tears streaming down her creamy cheeks, tinted rose to match her lips. “Brandon.” She blinked back her tears. “Honestly, I used to blame you for stealing Christian. He’d promised to spend that day with me. But you called, and he always chose you.”

“He loved you,” I tried to assure her, even though the guilt was eating me alive. More so now that I knew Christian should have stayed home that day.

“I know the jerk did,” she half laughed, half cried. “But I really needed to talk to him that day. I saw something at your parents’ Christmas party, and I didn’t know what to do. He’s the only person who would have known what to do. Then he was gone, and I never got to tell him. I’ve told no one, and it’s killing me.”

My mind raced with what she could have seen at my parents’ party to make her so upset. I reached up and ran the back of my hand down her wet cheek, wanting to make it better. “You can tell me.”

She closed her eyes and held her breath for several seconds before letting it out slowly and deliberately. “Brandon, it’s not your fault my family broke up,” she stuttered through her shuddering. “My mom,” she could hardly say.

“What about your mom?” I asked when she didn’t finish her thought.

Holly opened her eyes and peered directly into mine, begging for me to help her get the words out.

I cupped her cheek with my hand. “Whatever it is, I’ll make it better,” I promised, not knowing how to keep that promise, but I sure as hell would find a way.

She leaned into my hand. “I always loved helping your mom at the party,” she began bravely. “That night she asked me to run down to your basement and grab a platter of shrimp from the extra refrigerator. You know, the one in your game room.”

I nodded, remembering and letting her know I was here for whatever she had to say.

“Of course you know which one I’m talking about,” she said nervously. “Anyway, I ran down, happy to help. But ... when I got down there, I saw my mom and Mr. Garrison embracing each other in a darkened corner of the great room in your basement.”

“Mr. Garrison, the contractor who built our houses and lived down the street?” He and his family had moved away several years ago. I wonder if this had played a part in it.

“That’s him.”

“What were they doing down there?” I stupidly asked.

“I’m sure it wasn’t the lie they told me. They broke apart as soon as they saw me. Then my mom spluttered about how he was showing her the subbasement he’d designed for your house and that she was interested in doing something similar to ours. But I knew she was lying. It was evident from her flushed face and shaking hands there was something going on between them. Mr. Garrison wouldn’t even look at me. He left and ran upstairs, leaving me and my mom to stare at each other. I didn’t know what to say. All I did was look at her in disbelief, feeling like I was going to vomit.”

I felt sick for her. I would never have guessed that Mrs. St. James would cheat on her husband. They’d always come off as a couple very much in love. “Did you say anything to her?” I asked delicately.

“She wouldn’t let me. She kept rambling and then she ran off aswell. I didn’t even bring the shrimp up to your mom.” Holly fell against me.

I wrapped my arms around her. “It’s doubtful my mom even remembers that.”

“I still feel bad.”

I chuckled somberly. “Don’t. I’m the one who feels awful.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“I have for many years, especially now. I’m sorry you’ve carried this with you all this time. You never told your dad?”

“I couldn’t. Christian died the next day, and it devastated him. He loved my mom so much, I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.”

“What about your mom?”

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