Page 20 of One Foggy Christmas
She laughs a little more, biting back her smile until it’s gone. Her eyes meet mine, and her shoulders pull back. “Just so you know, Tate wasn’t some drugged-up loser.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just here to offer support.”
“No, I want to.” Determination fills her gaze, and I can tell it’s important to her that I know who her brother was. “He didn’t overdose on purpose. He wouldn’t do that. He had to have taken something like fentanyl without knowing it.” She shakes her head, fighting off her rising emotion. “Tate had the biggest heart and a bright future ahead of him. He was a good guy. He just struggled with this one thing and didn’t tell anyone or get help. I’m sure he thought he could get a handle on it.”
“I know. And I can tell from his pictures and everything you said about him that no one was better.”
“Thank you for saying that.” Tears drip down her cheeks, but she quickly wisps them away with her finger. “He got injured playing football his senior year and was in a lot of pain and had a lot of surgeries. I think one thing led to another, and he couldn’t stop the meds. I didn’t know. Nobody did. I would’ve never left him and gone to Chicago if I had known what he was dealing with.” A stray tear skitters down her cheek, and I wish I could wipe it away, wipe away the pain I know she’s feeling.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I just…”—she sucks in a ragged breath—“I should’ve been there for him, but I wasn’t. And I don’t want anyone thinking badly about him, you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean.” I start walking and talking, hoping she’ll follow. “My older brother was the funniest guy I knew—the life of every party. But he had a few demons he couldn’t get past, so he drank.A lot.” I glance to the side to make sure she’s walking with me, happy to see she is. “One year ago, we lost Nolan in a car accident that he caused. He was drunk.”
She reaches out, grabbing my forearm. “I’m so sorry, Nash. I didn’t know.”
“You wouldn’t. I don’t really talk about my brother at work, and I guess everyone’s learned not to bring him up.”
She drops her hand, and we walk silently for a few paces. “How Nolan died, or his addiction, doesn’t define who he was as a person, and neither should what your brother was dealing with.”
She blinks back a few tears, discreetly wiping what couldn’t be dismissed. “Does it get any easier?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“You might as well give it to me. I’m going to find out anyway.”
“It doesn’t get easier. You just get used to the pain constantly being there.”
“But you hide it so well. You’re always so happy.”
“Life moves on even when you don’t want it to. I’ve learned that grief and happiness happen at the same time. It doesn’t make sense. It just works—both feelings equally take up space in your mind and heart.”
“That’s why you came six hundred miles to be here.” Her sad smile breaks my heart. “You know what it feels like.”
“I do know what it feels like.”
There’s a shared pain only those who’ve lost loved ones can understand. I see it in Sadie’s eyes now—she understands my loss, and I understand hers. That’s why I came. I understand her in a new way that very few people comprehend.
Our steps slow to a stop, and she turns to face me. “I’m happy you came. It means a lot.”
“I’m happy I came too.”
She nods toward the church. “I’d introduce you to Stetson?—”
“I don’t think he’d like to meet me.” I smirk.
“Probably not.” She laughs. “And my family…well, as you heard, I’m not really speaking with them right now.”
“I didn’t come for them. I came for you.”
Our stares hold.
Desire, attraction, want, longing—every feeling I shouldn’t feel—builds inside me. I didn’t come to her brother’s funeral to make Sadie’s life harder or complicate her internship or relationship with Stetson, so I take a step back.
“I should let you go.”
“Yeah, I need to start cleaning things up.”
