“You’re forgetting how stubborn my brother is. If he doesn’t want to give up on you, there’s nothing I can say to change that.”
“Wait a few months, then tell him I’m dating someone new.”
“Ella!” Gianna gasps. “I’m not going to lie to Leo about you! He comes home. He’d figure it out.”
I chuckle bitterly. “If he thinks I’ve moved on, he won’t ask anyone about me. You won’t even be able to say my name.”
“Fine. I’ll handle it,” she snaps, then ends the call.
Great. I knew this would happen. That I’d lose both Leo and Gianna. But what choice did I have? I can’t fault her for siding with her twin brother. I’m glad Leo has support, just like I have Ember.
As I slide into the driver’s seat of Leo’s car, I take a deep breath. The air is permeated with Leo’s cologne, a Nautica scent of bergamot, lemon, and sage. He’s still using the same bottle I gave him for Christmas a decade ago, because he only uses it when he’s with me.
Correction. He onlyusedit when he was with me.
I frown as I imagine him spraying it on for a future date, and another woman complimenting him on how nice he smells. The thought makes my stomach churn. I shake my head, forcing the images out of my head. This is what I asked for. He deserves someone who can give him exactly what he needs, and I know I’m not the one.
A sound of tires crunching on gravel makes my head pop up, and Leo’s very angry brother, Dominic, jumps out of his car. He motions for me to roll down my window. When I do, he leans close and whispers, “You’re lucky you aren’t a man. When menbreak our sisters’ hearts, we show them how bad that decision was. But stay the fuck away from Leo, and stay away from my entire family.”
I nod numbly as he stalks up the trail. I deserve that too.
I don’t remember the drive back to Eternity Springs. Nor do I remember parking in front of my house, or relieving the home health aide who sits with my mother during the day when I’m working.
The only thing etched into my memory, in fact, is the empty road the next morning, after Leo retrieved his car.
And that was how I made the worst decision of my life, one that I regretted almost immediately. I figured it would get better. I needed time to grieve our love story. But life wasn’t kind to me or my family, nor was it kind to Leo. Eight years later, and I’m still regretting leaving the only man I ever loved.
LEO
“Stupid fucking marmot,” I mutter as I pick up more debris to place in a large trash bag. Yes, it’s a marmot. No, he isn’t supposed to be this far down in elevation, as marmots typically live above the tree line. I don’t know why this exact marmot has decided to wreak havoc on my hometown of Eternity Springs, Colorado, and especially my family’s boutique hotel, Everlasting Inn and Spa, but I know he has fun.
Picking up a ripped hockey jersey, I shake my head. “Luca is gonna skin your damn ass if he finds you, Mason.”
I didn’t name the marmot. The town did. He’s become our town mascot, with many of the residents — mostly the women — thinking he’s so cute and don’t care that he destroys stuff. But my brother, Luca, is ready to shoot the marmot dead as soon as he finds him, because Mason has an affinity for Luca’s old hockey memorabilia. Now retired, my brother spent many years with the NHL Denver Wolves hockey team, and now coaches the Eternity Springs High School hockey team. He still likes to look at his old things, though, and I really hope this isn’t a one-of-a-kind jersey that can’t be replaced.
“Leo? Are you out here?”
Fuck. I stand still, hoping like hell my body is lined up perfectly with the tree I’m next to. It’s not that I’m avoiding my sister, Gianna, but I totally am.
“Leo. You’re getting rusty. I’m following your footprints in the snow, dummy.”
Well, God dammit. I sigh loudly, making Gianna giggle. It’s one of my favorite sounds in the world, and I even had a recording of her giggle saved in my phone to play when I was deployed. Our mom often fondly tells people how I would make Gia laugh as a toddler, over and over again, just to hear the sound.
That little trip down memory lane is abruptly stopped when a snowball hits me square in the face. “God, you really are getting rusty! I thought you’d stop that before it hit you!”
“I guess I am rusty,” I mumble, swiping snow from my cheeks and eyelashes. It’s not like I have any reason to stay on top of things. The Army booted me out as soon as I got injured, and they don’t even want me to help train new soldiers. A mangled leg and a traumatic brain injury aren’t good for the Army’s public image.
“Want to come over for dinner? Your nephew misses you,” Gianna says lightly. Looking down at her, with her curls shooting out from under a hat, I marvel at how we’re twins. Fraternal twins, obviously, but we’re nothing alike. Gia tops out at maybe five-six, whereas I’m six-three. Her hair is a lighter shade of brown than mine, and tight curls surround her face. But we have the same eyes, and that fascinating connection that all twins seem to have, because whenever I’m really struggling, Gia shows up.
“I guess your husband is working tonight?” I ask wryly.
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m asking you over,” she huffs. “I found a new recipe I want to try. You’ve always been my favorite guinea pig.”
Ain’t that the truth. She’s been force-feeding me since we were teenagers. Every time I came home from deployment, or the rare times I visited on leave from the Army, Gianna was ready with a binder of recipes to try. She’s not a baker like our sister Isabella, or someone who wants to feed the masses, like our mom. Gia likes to experiment in the kitchen, and she has an eclectic palette.
“Alright, I can come over. Do you want me to bring anything?” Iask, as I rub a hand against the back of my neck. A tension headache is coming on. I get them fairly often since the TBI, but only Gianna knows. My family knows I was injured, but Gianna and our parents are the only ones who know to what extent.
I’m a private person. I always have been. I kept my circle of friends small, even as a child. Going into the Army, it was easy to transition into a top secret career field where I couldn’t share anything, even if I’d wanted to. Our tasks were usually of the “get in, get the job done, get out, and don’t ask questions” type. I fucking loved it. The group of guys I was with became a second family. Ride or die. Until that last op, when only half of us came home.
