Page 16 of Entwined
Easton glanced at me, his eyes dull and lifeless. “Barely,” he muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”
Simone nodded, her gaze distant. “None of us can,” she whispered. “It doesn’t seem real.”
I wanted to say something comforting, something that would ease their pain, but the words wouldn’t come. The truth was, I didn’t know how to comfort them when I couldn’t even comfort myself.
The evening dragged on, with more people offering their condolences before slowly trickling out. By the time the last guest had left, the house felt eerily quiet. The energy that had once filled it was gone, replaced by a heavy stillness that pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
The entire family had decided to stay over, wanting to offer each other comfort. My parents were in the guest wing, and Easton had retired to his old room, just like I had. The thought of sleeping in the bedroom I’d shared with Colson was unbearable. Every corner of that room reminded me of him, of the life we had shared, and of the death that had taken him from me.
I made my way to my old bedroom, the room I had first lived in when I moved into the mansion. But sleep didn’t come. I tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the events of the day, the sound of the dirt hitting Colson’s coffin, the finality of it all.
It felt like an eternity had passed when I heard it—Easton’s muffled cry from the room next door. My heart clenched, recognizing the sound immediately. He was trapped in a nightmare. Without thinking, I slipped out of bed and made my way to the closet passage that connected our rooms.
I pushed the door open quietly, stepping into Easton’s room. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his bed. He was thrashing under the covers, his face twisted in anguish. I hurried over, slipping into bed beside him. “Easton,” I whispered, gently shaking him. “It’s okay, it’s just a dream.”
He woke with a start, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the room before settling on me. “Joey,” he choked out, his voice raw with emotion.
“I’m here,” I said softly, wrapping my arms around him. He buried his face in my shoulder, his body trembling. I held him tightly, my hand running soothingly up and down his back. “You’re safe. It’s over.”
He didn’t say anything, just clung to me like a lifeline. I could feel his tears soaking into my shirt, his pain mirroring my own. We stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding comfort in the shared silence.
Eventually, his breathing began to even out, the tension in his body easing. I stayed with him, not moving, not speaking, just being there for him the way I had always been. It wasn’t until hisgrip on me loosened, and I heard the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing, that I realized he had fallen asleep.
I pressed a kiss to his temple, my own eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’m here,” I whispered again, more to myself than to him. I laid my head on the pillow next to his, my hand still resting on his back, and closed my eyes. The grief was still there, heavy and suffocating, but for the first time since Colson’s death, I felt like I wasn’t carrying it alone.
The days following Colson’s funeral were a blur, with the mansion feeling more like a mausoleum than a home. We moved like ghosts through the hallways, barely acknowledging one another. Vaughn had taken over Colson’s office, slipping into the role of CEO as if he’d been born for it. I had no doubt he would soon be made permanent by the board. His presence was a constant reminder of the power shift that was underway.
I sat at the kitchen table, sipping ginger ale to quell the nausea that had become a constant companion. The carbonation bubbled against my tongue, but it did little to soothe the hollow ache in my chest.
Simone slipped into the seat across from me, her eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red. She looked as though she hadn’t slept in days, her usual polished appearance frayed at the edges.
“How are you?” she asked softly, her voice thick with emotion.
I met her gaze, my eyes heavy with unshed tears. “When does it stop hurting?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“It doesn’t,” she replied, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “Losing my mother still hurts. It doesn’t go away; it just dulls over time.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over and streaming down my face. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweater, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry,” I murmured.
Simone reached out, her hand hovering over mine before she hesitantly withdrew it. “Your mother was always sweet to me,” she said, her voice gentle.
I clenched my jaw, the memory of seeing my mother comforting Simone at the reception flashing through my mind. It had felt like a betrayal, as if my mother was grieving Simone’s loss more than mine. But I couldn’t deny the bond they shared, no matter how much it stung.
“She loves you,” I admitted, my voice tight. “How are you and Logan doing?” I wasn’t sure why I asked, but I did care about my brother's happiness, even if it meant acknowledging Simone’s place in his life.
A dreamy expression softened Simone’s features. “We’re good. I want you to know this isn’t just some fling. I love your brother.”
“I know,” I said, my voice firm. “Treat him right. He deserves it.”
Simone nodded, her eyes earnest. “I will. I do. Would you have a problem if we got married?”
The question took me by surprise, and I blinked at her, trying to process her words. “I didn’t realize it was that serious.”
“It’s been years in the making,” she confessed, a hint of defiance in her tone. “My father tried to separate us, but I couldn’t let Logan go. He’s not like all those rich assholes I dated in the past.”
I was about to respond when a sudden scream erupted from Colson’s office, the sound piercing the quiet of the mansion. I jerked in my seat, nearly spilling my soda as Vaughn came storming out, his phone clutched in his hand like a weapon. His eyes locked onto mine, fury blazing in them.
“You cunt,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom as he marched toward me. He slammed his fist onto the table so hard that the glasses rattled, and Simone jumped up, placing herself between us.
