Alibi by Nicole Edwards

Chapter Fourteen

Tuesday, February 16, 2021

Travis sat in his office listening tothe meteorologist go on about the epic winter storm that was blowing through Texas. Admittedly, it was the first major storm Travis had seen like this. At least that he could remember. They’d actually gotten snow already, big, fluffy flakes, something that was rare for central Texas.

But it wasn’t the four to six inches that the weatherman predicted that had everyone worried. No, that was the ice and the record low temps that were taking a significant toll on the power grid. As of now, they hadn’t lost power, but Brendon and Cheyenne had, which meant they probably would at some point. As for the water, well, it was spotty at best. The emails from the utility companies said the water treatment plants had lost power, affecting the water, so they were to expect to be without for some time.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t Mother Nature or her wrath that had Travis so preoccupied. Everyone was settled in place, getting regular updates from family on the group text, so he was sure they would reach out if there was a problem. And if worse came to worst, they had the ability to move and shift people around to accommodate. For now they were hunkering down, hoping it wouldn’t last long.

Which meant Travis was left to focus on the sealed envelope sitting on his desk. Nothing nefarious, just your standard number-ten white envelope. On the front was his and Gage’s names, scrawled in Kylie’s lovely cursive. Beside it, the gold-plated letter opener Kylie had bought him when she’d been updating his home office.

The lawyer Kylie had hired to handle her will had delivered it a week ago, and Travis couldn’t bring himself to open it, much less read what it had to say.

“Daddy-O! Daddy-O! Let’s make a snowman!”

Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Travis snatched the envelope, sliding it into his top drawer just as Kade was storming into his office. The little boy was bundled up in a coat, mittens, scarf, and earmuffs, only his little nose and eyes visible on his face. It was a wonder he could see.

And the sight of him made Travis smile.

“A snowman?”

Kade nodded enthusiastically. “Daddy said we could.”

“Well, you better get to it.”

“With you, too. Daddy wants you to help.”

Travis swallowed hard, a ray of hope igniting in his chest even as he wondered if Gage had actually said that. Things weren’t exactly kosher between him and Gage these days. In fact, they rarely spent any time together, and when they were under the same roof, it was usually without conversation.

Oh, but their interactions weren’t completely hindered. Every night Gage would come into the guest room Travis had moved into. And every single night they would fuck like two men who hated each other but secretly craved what the other could offer. It was only during those hours that Travis felt any sense of calm, though he wasn’t sure he was supposed to.

“Come on,” Kade whined.

Knowing it would only disappoint his kids if he didn’t join them, Travis pushed up from his chair.

“All right, all right. Let’s do this.”

“Yay!” Kade took off, waddling back the way he’d come.

Travis pulled on his wool-lined Carhartt, also something Kylie had bought for him, and walked out onto the back porch. Gage was holding Maddox in his arms while Kate, Avery, and Haden were smacking their hands on what appeared to be a snowball. It wasn’t much of one, certainly not what most people expected would turn into a man of any sort, but it was a start.

Kade raced over to them, squealing with excitement.

“You better scoop more snow,” Gage told them, his gaze swinging around to Travis.

For a moment, they stood there staring at one another.

Like every time their eyes met these days, something clenched deep inside Travis. It was true—whenever he looked at his husband, it reminded him of what they’d lost. He would immediately think of Kylie, wishing she was there with them.

At the same time, he was reminded of what he had to lose if they couldn’t keep it together. Although he still couldn’t sleep and he’d lost nearly ten pounds from not eating because he missed Kylie, he also missed Gage. The man had been his rock for so long, and not having him there … well, it was killing him slowly.

“I want a giant snowman,” Kade yelled, swinging a purple shovel—one they’d bought to make sandcastles at the beach—around. “The biggest one ever. Bigger than a building,” he exclaimed, hopping to reach as high as he could.

“Me, too,” Avery said, her voice not as loud but equally enthusiastic. “Bigger than a tree.”

“Buildings are bigger than trees,” Kade argued.

“No, they’re not.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What about you, Kate?” Gage asked, politely breaking them up.

Travis’s attention shifted to Kate, who was slowly gathering up snow into a little yellow bucket. She didn’t answer, so Travis walked down the steps to join them.

“Kate?”

She turned her head, clearly not having realized Travis was there. Her brown eyes glistened with what he knew were tears.

“What’s the matter?”

Kate looked at him, then looked at Gage. “I wanna make a snowmommy.”

Travis’s chest tightened and he had to swallow the knot that formed in his throat. He looked at Gage, saw his eyes were glassy, too.

“Then let’s do that. Let’s make a snowmommy,” Travis told her. “What does she look like?”

There was a hitch in her voice when Kate said, “Like Mommy.”

For a second, he thought he might be having a heart attack, his chest constricted so tight, and it was painful to breathe. But Travis pushed through, wanting to support Kate. The therapist she was still seeing had told them the best thing they could do right now was to be supportive, to show her they were there for her.

“What should I do?” Travis offered, hoping to distract her.

“We need more snow,” she decided.

“Here!” Kade hopped over to him, passing off his purple shovel. “You can use mine.”

“You can use mine, too, Daddy-O!” Avery said, giving him her blue shovel.

With one in each hand, Travis squatted down, scooped snow into a pile. Kade and Avery transferred it over, forming it into a ball.

It took some time, but they managed to scrape enough snow from the grass to build a decent-sized snowmommy. And by decent, it topped out at maybe two feet, not quite the building or the tree they’d been going for. When they were finishing up, Kate took off inside, leaving Travis and Gage to stare after her.

“You think she’s all right?” Gage whispered.

“I hope so.” He looked at Gage. “You want to talk to her? Or me?”

Gage passed Maddox over to Travis. “I’ll do—”

Just then, Kate came racing back outside carrying a handful of things. She stopped at Travis’s feet and stared up at them.

“Can we use these?”

Travis smiled through the tears that formed as he saw the sunglasses Kate was holding. They were Kylie’s favorite pair, the ones they’d bought her for her birthday a few years ago. She was also holding a rainbow-colored scarf. Or what was supposed to be a scarf. It had been Kylie’s attempt at knitting, one she’d done with Kate and Avery. Aside from being long and slender, it didn’t much resemble a scarf, more like a scraggly, skinny attempt at a blanket, but he knew Kylie had worn it on occasion because it made the girls happy.

“Perfect,” Gage said. “You wanna put ’em on?”

The kids worked together to get the glasses and scarf situated. Travis focused on breathing as he held Maddox.

“She needs arms,” Kade decided, wading over to the row of bushes along the back porch.

After a couple of minutes of deciding, and after snapping off a dozen or so twigs, he returned holding two, one twice as long as the other. He passed one to Avery before stabbing his into one side of the snow.

“We need to take a picture,” Kate informed him.

“Definitely pictures,” Gage agreed before snapping a few dozen as the kids posed with their attempt at a snowman … or rather, snowmommy, as Kate was referring to it.

Travis didn’t think this was a turning point—not by a long shot—but it was baby steps. And he had to think that one day they might be able to move forward.

As much as it still hurt, Travis knew that they needed this.

*

“It’s gettin’ worse,” Gage told Travis whenhe joined him in the living room a few hours later.

After their outdoor excursion, they had gathered the kids back inside, warmed them up with hot chocolate and vanilla wafers. Now the kids were doing their own thing, Maddox and Haden having gone down for a nap, Kate, Avery, and Kade working on bead jewelry at the little art table they’d set up in the corner.

“We’re lucky to still have power,” Travis said, motioning to the television.

On the screen, a reporter was talking about thousands being without power and water, urging people to stay home if at all possible. Austin had all but shut down in its attempt to accommodate. The schools that had shifted to virtual learning to keep kids home were now shutting down completely due to the power outages. Businesses were doing the same in an attempt to keep their employees safe.

They’d been lucky that they only had a few guests remaining at the resort, and they’d been able to cancel anyone coming in this week, but because flights had been cancelled in and out of the area, those remaining few were stuck. However, from the updates Gage was getting as they all rotated to manage the place, no one seemed to mind. As long as they maintained power, he figured. If that went out and the generators failed, he doubted the guests would be all that pleasant.

“I moved the buckets of snow into the kitchen,” Gage said. “Figured it might melt that way on its own.”

They had decided they would start melting snow to use for flushing the toilets since the water had gone out completely an hour ago. No one seemed to know when it would come back on.

“I could’ve helped,” Travis said, glancing over at him.

Gage shrugged, as though it was no big deal.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, something that had become the norm for them. The past month had proven painful for everyone as they attempted to come to terms with Kylie being gone. It wasn’t easy, that was for sure. The kids had nightmares, waking up crying for their mother often. Gage wasn’t getting much sleep either, lying in their bed by himself. Part of him understood why Travis couldn’t go in their bedroom. It certainly wasn’t easy, but Gage needed it. Being in there allowed him to remember that connection.

During daylight hours, it was a little easier. The kids had their good days and bad. Taking cues from the therapist, Gage and Travis were suggesting little projects for the kids. Drawing pictures of their favorite memories with their mom, hanging them on the refrigerator. Making craft projects—paper flowers, beaded bracelets—they planned to put on Kylie’s headstone the next time they went to visit.

They were dealing in their own ways.

It was still hard to believe it had been a month since the funeral. It felt like just yesterday. The only difference was it was getting easier to breathe, to make it a few hours without feeling the unbearable pain. Time would heal them, of that he was certain, but he doubted they would ever be whole again.

When it was clear Travis was going to remain glued to the television so he didn’t have to interact, Gage got to his feet.

“I’m gonna make SpaghettiOs for lunch. And I’ll scrounge up some candles just in case.”

Travis nodded. “I was thinkin’ I’d start a fire.”

And that was the extent of their conversation for most of the day. They spent the afternoon coloring with the kids, watching movies, and playing video games. From the outside looking in, it would appear they were a highly functioning family, but Gage knew it was all to keep from thinking about Kylie.

As usual, Travis was dealing with work, taking phone calls, checking in to ensure everything was being handled at the resort. Gage left him to it, figuring it was what Travis wanted and needed. He was keeping himself separate as much as possible, more so from Gage than the kids, and Gage was attempting to respect that.

But when Travis had disappeared after dinner, not coming back even after the kids were situated in front of the television and their iPads, Gage went to look for him.

He wasn’t surprised to see him sitting at his desk, staring blankly at the desk.

No. Not the desk. He was looking at a white envelope that sat neatly on top of his leather blotter.

Gage stepped into the room. “What is that?”

Travis’s eyes shot up to him as though he’d been caught doing something wrong. His hand immediately went to the envelope, covering it.

“Travis?” Gage watched his husband closely, saw the guilt on his face. “What’s goin’ on?”

“It’s a letter,” Travis finally said as Gage approached.

“From?”

Travis pulled his hand back, revealing the cursive writing on the front. “Kylie.”

Gage stopped, his legs locking. “What?”

Travis turned the envelope so Gage could read it. “Evidently, she wrote us a letter and left it with the attorney. Said we were to get it in the event of her death.”

Although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, he asked anyway. “What does it say?”

Travis shrugged. “I haven’t opened it. Can’t.”

Gage’s attention was locked on the standard white envelope and the familiar handwriting. He knew Travis didn’t mean it was physically impossible to open the letter, but rather he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Gage understood fully because, looking at it now, his first instinct was to back away from it.

Although he was a far cry from getting over what had happened, he felt stronger than he had in the beginning. That first week … he’d been a mess. And it had taken days for him to be able to breathe without tears clogging his throat. But suddenly all the progress he’d thought he’d made faded away, leaving him breathless and sad.

“Should we read it?” Travis asked, his voice scratchy and raw.

Gage looked at him, looked at the letter.

If he read a letter from Kylie … especially one from the grave…

Gage shook his head. He couldn’t do it.

“I was gonna tell you,” Travis said softly. “I’ve only had it for a couple of days. Wasn’t gonna open it without you.”

That wasn’t what Gage was worried about. Strangely, he believed Travis, knew the man wouldn’t keep something like that from him. Not unless it was to protect him.

“Do you want to open it now?” Travis repeated, the letter still sitting there between them.

“No,” he blurted, backing up. “No, I don’t.”

He felt Travis’s eyes on him as he left the room, leaving the letter and Travis behind him. Now he had to deal with a fresh wave of grief.