Falling For My Handsome Uncle

Chapter 1 — The Snowy Night Evelyn Rose’s POV The last thing my mother said to me was, “Don't forget your scarf, Evie.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not five, Mom.” She laughed from the driver's seat while Dad adjusted the heater. “You say that now,” she teased. “Wait until you're freezing.” I pulled the scarf tighter around my neck and stared out the window. Snow was falling so heavily that the world beyond the glass looked like a painting someone had smudged with a wet brush. It was beautiful. I didn't know it was going to be the last beautiful thing I would ever see with both my parents alive. “Are we almost home?” I asked. “Twenty minutes,” Dad answered. “That's what you said twenty minutes ago.” He laughed. Mom glanced at him. “She inherited your impatience.” “She inherited your attitude.” I gasped dramatically. “I have no attitude.” Both of them laughed. I crossed my arms. “I’m surrounded by bullies.” Dad reached back without taking his eyes from the road and squeezed my hand. “You're our spoiled princess. You know that.” I smiled. Then the car slipped. Everything happened too quickly. The tires lost their grip. Mom screamed my name. Dad turned the steering wheel. The world spun. There was a terrible sound of metal twisting. Glass shattered. Something slammed into my shoulder. And then— Darkness. When I opened my eyes again, there was blood on my hand. I didn't know where it came from. My ears rang. The car was tilted strangely, and snow was pouring through a broken window. “Mom?” Nothing. “Dad?” Silence. My breathing became faster. “Dad?” I tried to move. Pain shot through my leg. I screamed. “Mom!” Still nothing. The windshield was cracked almost completely across. I could see my father's hand. It wasn't moving. “No.” My voice trembled. “No, no, no…” I reached toward him. “Dad, wake up.” Nothing. “Please.” My fingers shook violently. “Dad, please wake up.” I don't remember who called the ambulance. I don't remember being carried from the car. I only remember the cold. And the flashing lights. And someone telling me to stay awake. Then the hospital. The smell of antiseptic. The fluorescent lights. The endless ticking of a clock. I sat on a hospital bed with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, staring at the door. My leg was bandaged. My forehead hurt. But none of that mattered. My parents were in the emergency room. Doctors had taken them away nearly two hours ago. Nobody would tell me anything. I looked toward the waiting area. My aunt was there. So was my father's business partner. Two cousins. A few people I barely knew. They were whispering. Nobody came to sit beside me. Nobody held my hand. I waited. Five minutes. Ten. Twenty. Then my aunt approached. She looked nervous. “Evelyn…” I immediately straightened. “Where's my mom?” She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. “Where's Dad?” Her eyes filled with tears. My heart began pounding. “Aunt Clara?” She looked away. That was when I knew. Something was wrong. Very wrong. “Tell me.” “Evelyn…” “Tell me!” The emergency-room doors opened. A doctor stepped out. Everyone became silent. He walked toward us. His expression was the kind adults wore when they didn't want children to understand the truth. I hated that expression. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly. My fingers tightened around the blanket. “What happened?” He glanced at my aunt before looking back at me. “We did everything we could.” My heart stopped. “No.” His lips moved. I heard the words. But my mind refused to understand them. My mother was gone. My father was gone. Both of them. Gone. I stared at the doctor. Then I laughed. It wasn't because anything was funny. It was the strange, broken laugh that escaped when something was too painful to accept. “No.” “Evelyn…” “My dad promised he'd take me home.” My voice cracked. “He promised.” My aunt reached for me. I pulled away. “He wouldn't leave me.” My knees gave out. Someone caught me before I hit the floor. I didn't know who. I didn't care. I screamed. I screamed until my throat burned. I wanted my mother. I wanted my father. I wanted someone to tell me this was a horrible mistake. But nobody did. And slowly, one by one, people began leaving. My aunt said she had arrangements to make. My father's business partner said there were matters concerning the company. My cousins disappeared with their parents. Even the people who had spent years calling my parents family suddenly had somewhere else to be. I watched them go. One by one. Until the hospital corridor was almost empty. That was when I understood something far more frightening than death. I was alone. Completely alone. I hugged my knees. “Mom…” My voice was barely audible. “I want my mom.” The elevator doors opened at the end of the corridor. A man stepped out. Black coat. Dark trousers. Snow clinging to his shoulders. His expression was hard, controlled, almost frightening. Julian Cross. My father's best friend. The man I'd known my entire life. His eyes found me immediately. He stopped. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he walked toward me. “Evelyn.” The sound of his voice broke whatever was left of my composure. I stood so quickly that my injured leg nearly buckled. “Uncle Julian…” He caught me before I fell. I grabbed his coat. “They're gone.” His arms came around me. I buried my face against his chest. “They're gone.” “I know.” “Everyone left.” His hand settled carefully against the back of my head. “I know.” “I don't have anyone.” His embrace tightened. “You have me.” I cried harder. “What am I going to do?” “You're going to come with me.” “Where?” “Home.” I pulled back, tears covering my face. “I don't have a home anymore.” Julian looked at me for a long moment. Then he wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “You do now.” My lips trembled. “Are you going to leave too?” His expression changed. Something fierce passed through his eyes. “No.” “Promise?” “I promise.” “Even if I'm difficult?” A tiny breath escaped him. “You've always been difficult.” Despite everything, a broken little laugh escaped me. Julian's mouth softened. “Get some rest.” “I don't want to sleep.” “Why?” “I'm scared I'll wake up and you'll be gone too.” His expression became impossibly gentle. “I'll be here when you wake up.” I stared at him. “Really?” “Really.” He pulled the blanket more securely around my shoulders. Then he sat beside my bed. He didn't leave. Not that night. Not the next morning. Not when the funeral arrangements began. Not when relatives started arguing about what would happen to me. Not when everyone else slowly returned to their own lives. Julian stayed. And as I sat there watching the snow continue falling beyond the hospital window, I made a childish promise of my own. If everyone else could leave me so easily, then I would hold on to the one person who didn't. I would stay with Julian Cross. Forever. I just didn't know yet that six years later, that childhood promise would become the most complicated feeling in my heart.