Page 34 of Snowed In with Three Mountain Men

“What happened to your dad?”

Those words hang there for a long moment. In that instant, I’m sure I have overstepped. The tension in the room is palpable.

“It’s okay,” I quickly add. “You don’t have to—I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t?—”

“No, it’s fine,” Chuck cuts in, and the other two nod.

“Yeah, you told us what happened with you,” Dax remarks. “If you’ve got questions about us, you deserve to hear the answers.”

I chew my lip, glancing between them. Whatever this is, I can tell that it weighs heavy on all of them, and I hate the thought that I might have pulled up whatever this is from the depths of their memory when all they wanted was to leave it behind.

“He wasn’t well, after he came back from service,” Chuck continues, speaking slowly, like he’s not used to putting this out there so bluntly. “He was…even when we were growing up, he had a hard time. Nightmares, flashbacks, shit like that. He tried his best, brought us up here every chance he got, but I guess it could only do so much to keep him from going back to that place, when he was a SEAL.”

Silence, again. Chuck takes a long sip of his drink, and then speaks once more, gazing into the fire, like the flames give him some kind of respite from the conversation we’re having right now.

“Maybe he would have been alright in the long run,” he admits. “But it was when we joined up that it got hard for him. He heard what we went through, and he knew better than anyone, what that was like. It brought it all back to the surface for him, and he—he couldn’t live with it. Not long after Dax got back, he…” He trails off.

My lips part in shock. He doesn’t need to fill in the rest, I can already tell what he’s getting at. “He…?”

Chuck nods. “He ended it,” he replies, bluntly. “Couldn’t cope with living like that any longer. Our mom didn’t last much longer after that either. She blamed herself—she got sick, the stress of it, and…”

He shakes his head. I reach out for his hand and squeeze it tight, wishing I could do the same for all the brothers in this moment.

“God, I’m so sorry,” I breathe. “I had no idea…”

“I never wanted to tell you about it,” Callum admits. “Because—because I thought you would make yourself sick like my mom did, worrying about what might happen to me.”

“You could have spoken to me about it,” I whisper to him. “I would have—I would have understood…”

He manages a small smile. “Yeah, that was what I was worried about,” he murmurs. “I was worried you wouldn’t do the right thing for yourself and you’d try to help me. That’s why I left. I didn’t want you to let your sweetness drive you to stick by me when you should have been out living your own life.”

I can feel tears prickling my eyes. I hate this. I hate knowing that he thought so little of himself, that he didn’t believe he was worth the trouble it would have taken to be with him. I wouldn’thave gone anywhere, if I’d known what he was going through—shit, I would have done anything for him to just come out and tell me, instead of trying to conceal it, trying to force me away from this side of himself.

I take another sip of my drink, trying to ground myself with the sharp bite of it against my tongue. It’s so much to take in. But it all makes sense. The pieces that have been so scattered since the night he left me are beginning to fall into place, and I’m starting to fit them together.

“And that’s why you came here?” I ask, when I find it in me to speak again. Dax lets out a snort, almost derisive, though I know it’s not aimed at me.

“That’s why they dragged me up here,” he replies. Callum and Chuck look over to him, and it’s clear that they’re not sure what to make of this sudden outburst. There’s still tension there, heavy in the air between them and their brother, as though the memories of everything that happened to bring them to this point are all too fresh.

“Because you were ill,” Chuck reminds him quietly. “You were?—”

“Because I was fucking losing it after my unit got killed around me,” he shoots back, blunt. “Because I couldn’t live in the real world after that happened. Because I would have ended up like Dad if you guys didn’t get me out of there, shit?—”

He stops himself dead in his tracks, inhaling deeply and slowing his words. I can tell it’s not easy for him. Whatever nightmare he’s been through, it still clings to the top of his mind, and I wonder if he’ll ever truly feel free from it.

“You saved me,” he mutters, staring down at his drink. “That’s why we came here. Because they wouldn’t let me lose myself the way we lost our father.”

He exhales slowly and nods to his brothers—the closest thing he’s going to get to effusive gratitude. Callum smiles back at him, and Chuck raises his drink slightly.

I glance around at the three of them. It’s hard to believe that things could ever have gotten that bad for them, really. The way they carry themselves now, for the most part…it’s with such confidence and certainty that I can’t imagine them ever having to fight against the odds like that.

“Do you feel like…has it worked?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Coming here? Getting away from everything?”

“In some ways,” Callum replies. “Most ways, really. It took me away from all the bullshit that would trigger me back in the city, and I can control everything out here, the way it all goes, how it looks, how each day unfolds?—”

“Apart from Dax’s attitude,” Chuck cuts in, drawing a laugh from around the room.

“Yeah, well, can’t have it all,” Callum concedes. “But…yeah. It’s been the right choice for me.”

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