Page 98 of Wylder Ranch
And I’d hate it.
The words felt so insincere. A platitude because they couldn’t think of anything else, but it was better than coping with the silence stretching out once they heard the news that my parents had died. But I’m wrong. I can think of plenty to say, just nothing that adequately expresses the pain I feel at seeing Alex like this.
But it’s not about me, and it’s the truth. Idowish I’d gotten to meet his dad, so I could thank him for his incredible son.
“It’s the anniversary of his death today.”
I reach for his hand resting on Everly’s back, lace our fingers together, and listen.
“I’ve been thinking about how much has happened since last year, how eventful it’s been, more than any other year.” His voice breaks again, taking my heart with it. “I have so much to tell him today. I’ve already told him about you and Everly, but I usually recap, and there’s a lot.” He sniffs, lifts the blanket, and dabs his eyes. “It’s made me realize how much of my life I’ve put on hold because I didn’t want him to miss out. I didn’t want to recap too much. But this year, I’m finally remembering what it’s like to enjoy Christmas. I see it through your eyes, how much wonder you have over the tiniest things—gingerbread and twinkly lights, trees.” A laugh rumbles in his chest. “And I feel closer to him because ofyou.”
We lie there in silence, and I listen to the soft sound of him breathing through tears.
“It took me time, you know.”
Alex turns his head. “What did?”
“Loving Christmas again, it took time. Avoiding it was hard because it’s steeped in so much of the family business. Every year after my mom died, my dad was adamant we kept decorating just like she did, but when he went too. . .” All the memories come flooding back. They’re not ones I’ve repressed, but they aren’t particularly happy, and I don’t enjoy revisiting them. Yet for Alex, I’ll do anything. “It was like I got sucked into this black hole. I was so angry with him. The first year after he died, I opened the store as usual, but my house was bare.”
His eyes widen. Alex saw my house last year, so I know it’s hard for him to imagine because Christmas was everywhere. Trees in every room, lights strung around the house, a full-sized reindeer, and a sleigh.
“Really?”
“Really. Grief isn’t linear. It takes time. But I realized I wasn’t any happier by not celebrating.” My lips quirk with a smile. “Because Idolove it.”
The pain on Alex’s face shifts, replaced by a genuine smile. Not a huge one, but it’s authentic and a little lopsided. “YouloveChristmas?”
I lift my shoulder. “It’s my thing.”
“I think it’s my favorite thing about you,” he says, leaning in and pressing his lips to mine.
The movement has Everly stirring on his chest, and it’s got to be almost seven by now, which means that she’ll be awake soon, and our day will begin the same as every day.
Except today’snotany other day, and I, of all people, know the sorrow that drags through you during certain times of the year.
“What do you normally do to remember him today?”
His fingers twist through my hair. “We go tothe church and then I usually get blind drunk, so I’m not entirely sure what the others do.” He chuckles darkly.
His eyes widen as I sit up sharply, but I’ve made a decision.
“Okay, then. That’s what we’re doing today. We’re going to find out.”
The churchyard isthe one place I haven’t yet visited in Valentine Nook, and walking through the gates, I regret it.
It’s incredibly pretty. Holly bushes ripe with berries frame the outside, and the path cuts through neatly cut winter grass where headstones of differing sizes are set out haphazardly. They look old, yet whimsical. I spy graves dating back to 1750, bringing a poetic quality to it, and on a frosty December morning with fog hanging in the air, it all feels very Emily Brontë.
It’s not any of these stones we stop in front of, however, because the path curves around behind the church and over toward the fields. My neck cranes as we walk slowly past, and my eyes trail up the steeple, past gargoyles and crests, and ornate spires until they reach the bells in the tower. I’ve gotten so used to them going off on the hour that I forget how loud they are until they ring out, making both of us startle enough that it sets us off into a fit of giggles.
It’s exactly what we need to lighten the moment.
We’re still giggling when we turn the corner to find one of the twins sitting on a bench in front of the door toa wide stone crypt. Ivy trails around the edges, twining with the floral symbols carved into the rock. Above the door, there’s a crest which I recognize as the one in the middle of Alex’s pinky ring, and hanging on the front is a Christmas wreath.
“Henners?”
He’s dragging a sleeve under his nose as he spins around, and when he sees it’s us, his shoulders relax. “Oh, hey, Al. Haven.” He smiles and shifts up the bench to make room. “Fancy seeing you here.”
The joke is weak, but we all laugh anyway because laughing is the better option.
