Now I actually do laugh, because, well… “That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh yeah?” Jase takes hold of my hand and makes his way to the door.
Fear spikes once more when he heads out in the hallway, but to my relief, he doesn’t head for the stairs. I’m directed to the back of the house on the north side, and Jase only stops once we’ve reached my dad’s home office, slipping inside.
The Craftsman-style interior of the house had all but been updated, with everything painted white and accented with sleek modern furnishings, save for my father’s office. The walls are all dark oak with built-in bookcases and cabinetry, and matching beams stretch across the ceiling. Despite the curtains always being closed, the office doesn’t feel uninviting. If anything, the limited sunlight makes it appear cozier.
The room had somehow become my father’s unofficial man cave, where no one was allowed to touch anything, let alone make changes to his so-called sanctuary. I haven’t even dared come in here for what I realize has been years.
“Should I ask how you know your way around?” I whisper, even once I’ve closed the door behind us. Jase hasn’t been in any part of the house except my bedroom.
He smirks. “Your stepmom threw a party here a few months ago for all our parents, and Trent went snooping around hoping he’d find some stashed booze.”
“Any luck?”
Jase doesn’t skip a beat, strolling right over to the back wall where a row of cabinets rests beneath the window. Sure enough, he opens the third door from the left to showcase a row of what I can guess is whisky.
However, that doesn’t seem to be his destination, as he shuts the door and heads over to the desk instead.
I know I should be concerned with what he may be up to, but any of my attention is stolen as I steal a glance at the shelves beside me.
My mom.
A three-piece picture frame sits right at eye level, containing images of my mom at the hospital holding Derek, Vanessa, and me on the days we were born. Alongside it is a collection of home movies, a high school yearbook, and another frame with a prom photograph inside.
Curiosity gets the better of me at the sight of the yellow tabs peeking out the top of the yearbook. The spine is cracked from wear and age, so I take care with opening it to each marked page, finding…
My mom.
Every tab highlights where she appears in the yearbook, from her senior picture to the group shot of the debate team to candid class photos. The last page is one for the football team, and at the bottom sits a still image of a cheerleader kissing the quarterback. I can only see the sides of their faces, but the long black hair is undoubtedly my mom’s, and the number of the player’s jersey is the same as my dad’s when he played professionally.
A clamp tightens around my chest at the sight.
As far as I knew, the only photos of her around here are hidden away in bedrooms. Vanessa and I both have pictures on our nightstands, and Derek has several on his dresser…but that’s it. The entire house used to be filled with pictures of Mom, but they were phased out over the years, replaced with new memories.
My eyes take in anything and everything around me, and I find more and more that makes my heart crack wide open.
A thin, tall glass display case rests in the far corner. Inside…
My mom had gifted my dad an engraved watch for their first anniversary. He had worn it every day until I was eleven…when Blythe bought him a new one.
I thought he had thrown Mom’s away or shoved it into some random drawer. But there it sits, lovingly on its own shelf, where a small light glows down upon it.
Looking at the other shelves, I quickly realize they’re all gifts from Mom.
A signed football from a player I don’t remember with an illegible signature, a cigar box for a stash of Cubans he got years ago, a personalized Scotch glass…
And on the top, a matching set of wedding bands.
It takes everything in me to digest what I’m seeing that I’ve all but forgotten I’m not alone in here. Jase’s hand brushes mine, and I startle at the touch. He crooks his finger, indicating I follow him over to the desk.
He’s awakened the screen on my dad’s laptop, looking at me expectantly.
“I don’t know the login,” I say, seeing the password box in the center of the monitor.
Jase rolls his eyes but can’t fight back a grin. “Take another look.”
Confused, I do as he says, seeing…
