She frowns deeply but doesn’t interrupt again.
“At eighteen I married my high school girlfriend just before enlisting into the Marines,” I start. “She agreed to the marriage because she loved me. I did it because I knew I’d make more money married when I enlisted. I liked her enough, but I wasn’tin love, if that makes sense. Unfortunately for us, getting married was the worst mistake either of us could’ve made.”
I’ve been psyching myself up for this conversation. Still, my stomach twists uncomfortably as the words fall from my lips.
“Years went by and eventually we had a child together. I felt trapped. I avoided coming home, taking long deployments when I could, and when I was home, I drank until I couldn’t remember my own name.”
I can’t look at Blair as I admit to the bastard I’d been. My gaze lands on the dying fire, instead.
I continue, “The drinking… it became a problem. When I finally retired from the Marines, it’s all I did. I wasn’t any good to them like that. I drank us into debt and I got arrested a lot due to countless bar fights over stupid shit. Valorie did the best she could with the mess I’d become. She was practically a single mother to Tonya and she was shackled to a lazy drunk who just kept dragging her down. Every time I promised I’d do better, I would back slide and go on long binges.”
I pause to steady myself. I’d been a wretched asshole back then. My heart clenches as I think about them now.
“Eleven years ago, it all came to a head,” I mutter, staring at the fire. “I was thirty-six, jobless, and at my lowest point. One night I needed to be picked up from a bar. I called Valorie and demanded she come get me. She said no, that the weather was too bad to make the trek.” I take a shuddering breath. “I kept pushing until she finally caved. Valorie said she had to wake Tonya up and bring her with her since there was no one to watch her, but that she’d be there soon. They were on their way when the accident happened.”
My throat squeezes shut, forcing me to stop talking. Tears well up and my chest threatens to crack open. It takes several long minutes to get myself under control. During that time, Blair sits and waits patiently for me to finish.
“I didn’t love my wife, Blair,” I admit, my voice hardly more than a whisper. “And what’s worse? I didn’t even really know my daughter enough to love her either. I don’t have a single memory of her where I wasn’t drunk. At least, I thought I didn’t love them before I’d called Valorie that night. The police found me a few hours later and told me what happened. Valorie had hit black ice. Her car spun off the road into a semi-frozen pond where she and my daughter drowned.”
Blair’s soft gasp mixes with the crackling of the fire. I ignore her to keep going.
“When I learned of their deaths, it hit me right then that Ididlove them. Their loss hurt more than anything I’ve ever experienced. Not only did I lose the people who cared for me—even at my worst—but it was my fault they were dead. So ashamed of myself, so guilt-ridden and heartbroken, I drank harder than ever. It didn’t matter how much I drank, though. They haunted me while I sleptandwhile I was awake.”
“Wes…” She reaches out and places a hand on my forearm. “I’msosorry.”
I look down at her hand. The warmth of it seeps through the plaid flannel and I swear I can feel it sinking beneath my skin. I place my other hand over hers, appreciating the comfort.
“Trust me when I say, I’m more than sorry any of that happened,” I admit. “Ledger found me about six months after their death and helped me get on my feet. He took me to AA meetings and when that didn’t work, he dragged me out into the Arizona desert and forced me to survive for two weeks with nothing but water and some MREs.”
Blair snorts her amusement. “That sounds about as loving as Ledger gets.”
“Yup,” I agree with a half-hearted smile. “But it worked. By the time I got back, I was able to say no to a drink. When he could trust me, Ledger brought me aboard Gnarly Pines and I’ve been here ever since.”
Blair passes me the thermos. “Sounds like a story that could use some hot chocolate.”
I take it and pour myself some in the cap Blair had just used. Neither one of us say anything for a long time. Not until my cup of steaming hot chocolate is gone and I’m twisting back on the cap.
“I’m guessing,” Blair starts. “That there was a point in telling me that story?”
I nod. “There is.”
Blair waits, raising an inquisitive brow when I don’t dive into the reasoning right away. I chuckle at her impatience.
“I vowed, when I became sober, that I would never be a burden again. That and I would be there for the people who were in my care,” I tell her, my voice deepening with emotion. I reach over and drop my hand back over hers which hasn’t left my forearm. “So tell me, Blair, how can I help you?”
We stare at one another. The indecision to tell me what’s wrong wars in those pretty, large brown eyes. They capture the firelight and flicker. For a second, I think tears well up but if they do, they’re blinked away a moment later.
She lets out a soft sigh as she pulls her hand away from my forearm and leans back in her chair.
“I don’t know how to do this, Wes,” she admits after a moment.
We’ve had this conversation. She doesn’t know how to open up. I open my mouth to guide her with questions but she continues before I can speak.
“I didn’t interact with very many people growing up,” she says. “The only person I spoke to, other than Dad, was Ledger. Occasionally, if Dad thought it was safe enough to go to a diner or spend a night in a motel I’d talk to a waitress or receptionist but that was the extent. Most of my learned behaviors come from television or just watching others. When I went to college I didn’t make any real friends. I was the weirdo who didn’t get social cues and didn’t have a normal upbringing—despite me having dreamed up the ideal childhood and laying it out whenever someone asked.”
She reaches up and covers her face with her hands. Through her fingers she continues.
“Even in the workforce, I just couldn’t fit in. Eventually, I just learned to keep my mouth shut and listen. I thought, since coming to Gnarly Pines, that things were going okay here because I’mBlair, not CeCe, and you all know my past. There’s nothing to hide…”
