Rewrite Our Story: A Small Town Best Friend’s Brother Second Chance Romance (Sutten Mountain)
Rewrite Our Story: Chapter 12

SLEEP DOESN’T FIND ME. It feels like I haven’t really slept since Mom died. Every time I shut my eyes, I imagine what she looked like. I have so many amazing memories to remember my mother, and the only one that seems to stick is the tragic last one I have of her in her bed.

It doesn’t seem fair to her to remember her that way. I try to remind myself of that each time I close my eyes, but it doesn’t seem to work. Trying to remember every happy memory of her only results in me reliving the memory of the worst one—the one of me screaming and pleading for her to wake up despite not feeling a pulse or any warmth coming from her body.

I angrily toss a pillow off the bed. As if blaming the pillow for my lack of sleep will solve things. Scrubbing my hands down my face, I groan.

After I realized trying to think of good times with mom won’t help anything, I tried not thinking about her at all. But then thoughts of my mom drifted to Mare, and the images of her didn’t help me fall asleep either.

I don’t know how much longer I toss and turn before my frustrations finally get the best of me. Shooting up out of the bed, I pace to try and put my mind at ease. The more time that passes, the more I realize I think I’m finally falling apart.

I’ve tried so long to keep my shit together. For Dad. For Pippa. Hell, for myself. I’d hoped that maybe if I stayed busy and kept my head down my emotions wouldn’t ever hit all at once.

I was fucking wrong.

My throat feels like it’s closing. I can’t fucking take a breath. My vision goes blurry, and I wonder if this is what it feels like to have a panic attack.

Without even thinking about it, I almost rip my door off the hinges as I burst into the hallway. When I’d first picked out Mare’s room, I’d put her in the room farthest from mine on purpose. Now I hate it.

There’s only one person I want to see right now. Only one person I need.

And it’s her.

Despite our past and lack of a future, in the present, as I fucking lose control because my mom is gone forever, she’s the only person I need. I forget how angry I am with her. I don’t remember how much she’s hurt me. All I know is that I can’t breathe, and I don’t think I will until I’m near her.

I stop in front of her door. I’d been too busy trying to sleep, then fighting a breakdown, that I never thought to check the time. I know it’s late, I just don’t know how late—or maybe, early—it is.

I pause, wondering if I should just lose my shit on my own. I don’t deserve her help. Fuck, with how I’ve treated her, she probably doesn’t even want to help me.

I’ve been a dick to her. It’s a coping mechanism.

Now, I don’t know how to fucking cope with the fact Mom is dead. And I’m going to have to live with the fact that my last memory of her is of her lifeless body. The only thing I can think to do to cope with it is by being in the presence of the woman asleep on the other side of this door.

At least, I thought she was asleep.

But just as I turn to go back to my room and figure this shit out on my own, the door is pulled open.

Mare stands on the other side of the door. Her eyes are heavy, like she’d just woken up, but they widen when she takes me in.

“Cade?” she says, her voice groggy with sleep.

“Where were you going?” I manage to get out.

Her head tilts to the side in confusion. “What? Nowhere. Why?”

“You opened the door.”

She grasps the door a little tighter, her eyes focusing on my bare chest. It’s only now that I realize that I hadn’t taken the time to put on a hoodie in the peak of losing my shit. She stares at my body for a few more seconds before she meets my eyes once again.

“I don’t know. I just felt something. It just felt like you nee—”

“Like I needed you?” I finish for her.

She nods, taking a step back into her room. I follow her silent invitation. I know with every part of me that I shouldn’t be stepping into this room alone with her but it doesn’t stop me from doing it.

She’s always been my kryptonite, my favorite drug and sobriety was never an option. But the problem is—I’d rather deal with the addiction to her than the suffocating realization that my mom is gone forever.

I’ve dealt with losing Mare before. I know I could do it again. What I can’t do is come to terms with my mother’s sudden death. At least not tonight.

“How did you know?” she asks.

The door shuts behind me. “Because it’s the same feeling I used to get with you.”

Her lips part in shock. She runs her hands down her pajama pants with nerves. “Yeah?”

I nod. I’m brave enough to take a few steps closer to her. She surprisingly lets me crowd her space.

“I know there’s still so much fucking baggage between us, Goldie. And I know that I’ve been shitty to you since you showed up, but I really need you right now.”

I wish I had the right to pull her against me and get reacquainted with the way her body feels pressed against mine. As if she can read my mind, she closes the small space between us and wraps her arms around me.

The moment she presses her cheek to my chest I feel like, for the first time since my mom died, I might be able to get through this. At least as long as she’s here.

“Anything for you, Cade. Always,” she says against my chest. Her breath is hot against my bare skin.

‘Always?”

She squeezes tighter, nodding her head. “Always,” she responds with conviction.

I allow myself to believe her, even though deep down I don’t know if she means it. If she did, she wouldn’t have left. If she’d do anything for me—she would’ve stayed. She wouldn’t have listened to me when I stupidly pushed her away because I thought I was doing what was best for her.

Mare pulls away just enough to look up at me. My hands itch to cradle her face, to run my fingers across the places where her freckles used to be.

Her eyes bounce to the bed a few feet away from us. “Like old times?” She doesn’t have to say much else for me to understand what she’s asking.

There were so many nights throughout the years she lived here that she’d crawl into bed with me. It was innocent. She needed comfort, and I didn’t have it in me to ever deny her. Even when I knew I should have.

Mare holds eye contact with me as she backs up toward the bed. As soon as the backs of her thighs hit the mattress, she turns and crawls into the sheets. She yanks on the comforter, remembering that I hate having it tucked in at the end.

Knowing this idea is terrible, but already feeling comforted by it, I follow her. The room is dark, only softly illuminated from the glow of an alarm clock on the nightstand.

We’re both silent as we lie down and get comfortable. Mare tucks her hands underneath her cheeks, her eyes watching me carefully.

I shift underneath the blankets, bringing my body slightly closer to hers. My heart beats wildly against my chest. I don’t know if it’s from the breakdown earlier or because I’m so close to her again.

“Talk to me,” she whispers. Timidly, she reaches across both our pillows. Her hand rests outstretched in front of me. A silent invitation.

I gladly take it, needing contact with her. My hand effortlessly wraps around hers. “I don’t even know what to say,” I confess.

“The truth. Someone needs to know how you’re feeling, Cade. Let someone be there for you.” She pulls her hand from mine and tenderly brushes her thumb across my jaw. “Let me be there for you.”

Tomorrow I’ll have to go back to being angry with her in an effort to protect my heart. But tonight, I’m going to let her do exactly that. I’m going to let her be there for me. Because I need her more than ever before.