“It was just the unexpectedness of seeing all those firefighters in one place. It reminded me of family gatherings at the firehouse, everybody joking and razzing each other.” A smile teased the corner of her lips. “Then I realized the last time I saw that many firefighters in one place was Tom’s funeral.”
Oh, boy.
“They were all dressed up, carrying his casket with such delicacy and duty.”
A lump in his own throat, Bryan watched as tears welled up in Darcy’s eyes, and he fought the urge to wring his hands. Was there a man in all of history who knew how to deal with a woman’s tears?
Parker.
He glanced at his phone, sitting on the kitchen counter.
No. He couldn’t bring Parker into this. Darcy was already angry and embarrassed enough. Besides, if they were dating, then these were the kinds of issues significant others were supposed to talk about. It wasn’t all intimate meals, kissing and not-having-sex.
“Do you want to talk about Tom?” he asked tentatively.
He really didn’t, but if it would make her feel better to get out all her deep-seated, lingering emotions of love and sorrow about her dead hero of a former husband, he was willing to—
Dear heaven, why had she tossed out all the alcohol?
A conversation like this should involve liquor and dim lights and possibly sad songs.
And somebody with way more sensitivity than him.
“No, I don’t want to talk about him,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Didn’t I say I didn’t want to talk about it?”
Good. Even if he had liquor, it was barely two o’clock in the afternoon. And stone sober, he wasn’t about to point out that she was the one doing all the talking anyway.
“They put a cold cloth on my forehead—that, apparently, was what brought me around, by the way. They brought me juice and held my hand. I am not weak.”
“I know you’re not.”
“In fact, I bet I can do more push-ups than you.”
“You probably—”
To his disappointment, she dropped to the floor. “Come on. Not chicken, are you?”
“No. Darcy, please get up.” The pain she’d been trying so hard to hide, that he’d seen only a glimmer of in all the months they’d known each other, was finally showing on her face. Her eyes glittered with tears, ones she was fighting with a desperate kind of anger that made his own heart ache in response. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” she asked, starting her push-ups.
“Pretend you’re okay.”
“Of course I’m okay. Didn’t you hear the doctor?” Three more push-ups. “Overheated. Pfft.”
He crossed to her, kneeling beside her. “Darcy, stop.”
Five more push-ups. “No.”
“Stop and look at me.”
“Don’t you have a qualifying session to go to?”
“Not right now. Darcy, it’s okay to feel sad. It doesn’t make you weak. You can—”
A sob broke from her throat. But she kept doing push-ups.
He laid his hand on her shoulder, and she jerked back into Child’s Pose, sitting on her heels, her chest resting on her thighs.
When her body started shaking, he grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his lap. “It’s okay,” he murmured as she cried against his chest, her arms clenched tightly around his neck. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”
She cried harder.
He didn’t leave her. He didn’t go to qualifying. After a while, through hiccupping sobs, she asked for chocolate and confessed she had a secret stash in her bag. Later on, he convinced her to eat some soup, but she wanted more chocolate and told him about the hiding place under the passenger’s seat of the motor home.
He was so worried about the bleak look in her eyes, he didn’t comment about the sugar content.
Instead, he carried her into his room, tucked her into bed and lay beside her while she drew shaky breaths and her tears soaked the front of his shirt. He’d never felt more helpless and yet more needed in his life.
The violent weeping abated as it grew late and shadows filled the room. He rubbed her back, and the tightness he’d held in his stomach all afternoon eased slightly when she pressed her lips lightly to the base of his throat.
“I don’t deserve to be happy when he can’t even be here at all,” she said, her voice choked from crying and slurred from exhaustion.
He kissed her temple. “Yes, you do.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DARCY LAY IN BED, listening to the rumble of stock car engines circling the track. Extending her hand to the space beside her, she noted the sheets were cool.
Where had Bryan slept? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in his arms.
Yes, you do.
He thought she deserved to be happy. He wanted her to be happy.
And while she felt raw, puffy-faced and exposed, she also felt strangely better. Cleansed. Comforted.
Sharing an emotional breakdown with a man she cared about, but had only been dating a short time, should have at least felt awkward. But some deep instinct inside told her he was the only one she could trust with her pain.
Maybe it was all the months of physical therapy and close contact during exercise, meals and “getting real” conversations. Maybe it was simply because of the man he was.
After her solitary crying spell a few weeks ago, she’d hoped she’d finally cried out all her despair. For two long years, she’d lived in fear of those horrible episodes never stopping. And now, after months of keeping a tight rein on her emotions, she’d broken down twice in a month.
Her eyes burned. Would she ever be whole again?
Stop.
She forced herself to sit up. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples. And, taking her own advice for once, she called on her yoga training. She crawled to the floor and worked through a few simple poses, forcing her mind to empty, her breathing to steady and her heart to beat in a slow, measured rhythm.
During those quiet moments, a truth finally moved through her.
She wouldn’t ever be the same, but she could be a whole person again.
Tom, who was so generous and kind, wouldn’t expect her to stand still. He’d want her to be happy. Just as she wanted the same for him. Heaven wasn’t full of pain, that she knew, so she could at least rest easy on that belief.
Last night she’d turned a corner. Taken a step forward. The past seemed further away, instead of clawing at her heels. And knowing Bryan was so close, so supportive, made looking down the road ahead much easier.
With one, last, cleansing breath, she opened her eyes.
The first thing she saw was a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. As she reached for it, she also saw several chocolate bar wrappers.
She nearly dropped the glass.
The chocolate. She bowed her head, not believing she’d let that secret escape. What had Bryan thought about Miss No Sugar Thank You hoarding candy?
Gulping water to soothe her raw throat, she frantically searched for some justification—other than her emotional weakness—for needing to hide chocolate every-freakin’-where.
She also realized she was wearing her polo shirt from yesterday.
She waved her hand, hoping her conscience would shut up. Bryan was a true friend and gentleman—even if traits like those weren’t entirely cool in this century. The fact that he’d cared for her was comforting, yet she was embarrassed to have been so far gone she hadn’t even thought to drag on her own sweatshirt and sweatpants.
Stop.
Her conscience had apparently ignored her command to be quiet.
Still, it—or was it she?—was right. Embarrassment wasn’t something she could feel with Bryan anymore. They’d been through emotional ranges during the last several weeks that a lot of couples never had to explore in a lifetime.
He’d held her while she grieved for her former husband. And while he probably felt as odd about that experience as she did, it just
seemed to add another layer of bonding between them.
She stood and noticed her bag sitting on the dresser, her jeans folded neatly on top. She dragged them on quickly, and though she’d have loved to take a shower and dig out fresh clothes, she decided she ought to get the awkward, morning-after-breakdown moment over with.
Walking down the hall, she could see into the kitchen/living area. Bryan was nowhere in sight, but Rachel was picking up discarded chocolate wrappers.
“Some party last night, huh?” she asked, obviously hearing Darcy’s approach.
Knowing her face had to be beet-red, Darcy muttered, “I have a problem with chocolate.”
“Don’t we all?” Rachel shrugged and tossed the wrappers in the trash. “And, hey, better a sugar rush than a hangover, right?”
“I guess so.”
“I made coffee. You want some?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Bryan went out to the practice session,” she said as she crossed to the pot on the counter. “He thought you might like some company other than his this morning. You want sugar?”
“No, thanks.” Darcy opened the fridge and drew out the cream. “Just a little of this. You?”
Rachel peered at the carton’s label. “Organic, low fat, no sugar added, huh?” She extended her own mug. “Sounds yummy.”
Darcy smiled as she poured the cream. “It’s better for you.”
“I should hope so.” Rachel leaned back against the counter and blew across the top of her steaming cup. “You want to talk about it?”
Remembering Bryan had quietly asked her the same thing yesterday, and she’d returned only anger to him, Darcy sighed as she settled at the dining table. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“There’s no shame in grieving.”
“There’s shame in fainting.”
“Yeah.” Rachel slid into the bench seat across from her. “I guess there can be. The Garrisons are a pretty sturdy lot. You think we’ll look down on you now?”
Darcy nodded, then sipped her coffee. The hot liquid soothed her throat, but not her pride. “You or Isabel would never faint.”
“You’ve obviously never seen us after Cade wrecks. We’re not too steady on our feet, believe me.”
“But I work for GRI. I shouldn’t be bringing my personal problems—”
“Whoa.” Rachel held up her hand. “Employees are like family around here, and you’re much more than that, regardless.” Blue eyes, brighter than Bryan’s, focused on Darcy’s face. “I haven’t seen Bryan this happy since the last time he crawled out of a race car in Victory Lane. You’re the reason.”
“He’s worked hard, t—”
“You’re the reason,” Rachel insisted. “Personally, I think you’re amazing. Strong, smart, compassionate, determined. Anybody that can handle Steel Garrison for months on end has serious spine.”
“I don’t feel very strong.”
“I understand that, and I’m not saying I wouldn’t feel self-conscious about passing out in public, but you won’t get anything from my family except support and respect. I promise.”
“Thanks.” She squeezed Rachel’s hand and felt a little more of her tension and worry drain. “If I had to be rescued, I’m glad you guys were the ones.”
“Hey, when the matriarch says move, we all mobilize immediately.” She angled her head. “I can’t believe I called myself that. I spend too much time listening to my husband.”
“But you are the leader.”
Rachel scowled. “Matriarchs are old women.”
“Not necessarily, and I’m Irish. I know about these things.”
“Are you embarrassed to see Bryan now?”
“I don’t know.” Darcy glanced out the window. Part of her felt closer to him than ever; part of her thought she was laying too much significance on a simple crying jag. Part of her was terrified she was going to lose him if she didn’t get herself together. “Maybe a little. I’m more worried about what brought on all this grief.”
“You lost your husband—suddenly, tragically—anybody would—”
“No.” She shook her head to clear it. “I mean, yes, I did. But I’ve spent two years working through losing Tom, and I’ve been doing okay. The panic attacks and crying were losing steam. The reason I’m such a mess is because I feel so guilty.”
“Guilty? But why—” Rachel stopped and nodded. “Bryan.”
Surprised she understood, Darcy’s gaze darted to Rachel’s.
“You guys have been growing pretty close over the last few months. You have strong feelings for him. You…want him.”
Darcy pressed her lips together briefly. “Yes.”
“So you two haven’t…” Rachel raised her eyebrows.
“No. It’s weird, right?”
“I don’t think so. These days sex is definitely casual for most people, but it doesn’t have to be for you. It never was for me—though it took me a while to convince Parker of that.”
“It did?”
“Oh, yeah.” She smiled, obviously with remembrance. “For him it was all about illicit invitations and keeping everything simple and temporary. Charming, but empty.”
“And you didn’t want that?”
“I didn’t even like him then. But we became friends, and I began to see more in him.” Her tone softened; her face glowed. “Eventually, I realized he was everything.”
“You two are great together.”
“Yeah, we are.” She caught Darcy’s gaze. “Maybe you and Bryan are, too.”
“Maybe.” She certainly cared about him more than any man since her husband. “But there’s my past and his divorce, and we’ve been thrown together in this weirdly intimate situation with the training and rehab. I’m not sure we’ll last the season. Or even the month.”
“But maybe you will.”
“I don’t see how if I’m afraid to sleep with him.”
“He’ll be patient.” When Darcy dropped her jaw, Rachel laughed. “I know. Not normal for my brother. But he will if he cares enough, and I think he does.”
But Darcy knew his patience was holding on by a thread. As for caring, she had no idea how he felt. They’d carefully skipped around those kinds of conversations. They were content. Or had been. Her emotional breakdown had kind of thrown things off stride.
And she was deeply concerned that his divorce—being rejected—was something he might never get over.
Did she want a man who was still hung up on his ex-wife? Did he want a woman who still fainted and cried over her deceased husband?
In short, they were a mess.
“Try not to get too stressed over it,” Rachel said as she rose. She rinsed her mug and set it in the dishwasher, then turned back to face Darcy. “It’s only love.”
As Rachel well knew, there were truckloads of implications in that four-letter word. The past, the present, the future. Everything.
She forced a smile. “Yeah, only.”
“I’m here if you need me. Isabel, too.”
“So everybody knows about yesterday? Me fainting?”
“Only the family,” Rachel assured her. “Dad blabbed.”
“There are races to focus on,” Darcy said, a different kind of guilt assaulting her. “The teams running for a championship, dealing with Lars. Nobody needs to worry about me.”
“But we do.” Rachel smiled gently. “Besides, if you think you’re guilt-ridden, you should see Dad. He’s a complete mess. He’s anxious to apologize, and he’s been bugging me since yesterday about what to get you.”
“He doesn’t have to get me anything. It wasn’t his fault.”
“I was going to recommend truffles.”
Darcy considered that prospect for less than two seconds. “Tell him I’m going to need at least twenty-four, and I like the coconut and raspberry-flavored ones best.”
Rachel laughed. “Like I said—smart.” She opened the door. “Don’t forget we’re here for you.”
Darcy cupped her hands around her c
offee mug. “Thanks. But I hope you won’t be dragging me off the floor again anytime soon.”
“We’re here for more than that.”
After Rachel closed the door behind herself, Darcy did something she never did. Nothing. She sipped her coffee and listened to the cars loop the speedway and the track announcer talk about the upcoming NASCAR Nationwide Series race, as well as the positions of the drivers practicing at the moment.
She should probably go for a run but decided she was due for a day off. At the moment, all she wanted was Bryan. Maybe she’d feel awkward, maybe she should be embarrassed, but she also knew she’d feel steadier once she saw him.
By the time the door swung open a while later, she’d made chicken salad for lunch, then turned on the TV and settled on the couch to watch the race coverage.
“Hey,” Bryan said, walking through the doorway and toward the fridge. After pulling out a bottle of water and drinking from it, he moved toward her. “You feel okay?”
She extended her hand, and he grasped it, sitting beside her on the sofa. “I’m good. Better now that you’re here.”
He smiled slightly. “You sure about that?”
Leaning forward, she kissed him, and the raw, jagged edges of grief, regret and confusion receded. It was as if he’d breathed life into her again. She laid her hand on his chest and was comforted by the strong, steady beat.
Whatever they had to manage from their pasts, to overcome for future happiness, she knew she wanted to try. She’d helped heal Bryan’s body, maybe she could find a way to repair their hearts.
“Thank you for yesterday,” she said when she pulled back.
He smoothed her hair off her face. “You’re welcome.” Then he flung his arm around her waist and hugged her tight.
Surprised by the stark emotions rolling off him, she didn’t know what to do except wrap her arms around his neck and hold on.
“You scared me,” he said, his voice rough.
“I’m sorry.”
“Try not to do that again.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I didn’t realize you still missed him so much.”
“I don’t.” She leaned back to look at him. “Though, I guess I’ve been repressing a lot lately. Probably not a good idea. But it was more than that. It was the guilt of me moving on. Meeting you, getting close to you.”
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