His lower lip trembled and his body shook much the same as hers had that night on the beach when he had rescued her. It was her turn to rescue him now. She hugged him and let him cry.
Eventually he wiped his face on his T-shirt, took a deep breath and looked down at her again. She felt sad too. She gazed up at this broken man, knowing exactly how he felt. Then suddenly she froze as he lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her softly but it was not the simple kiss of one friend to another. He tasted of whiskey.
Her mind snapped back into action. “Greg, no! What are you doing?” She stepped back from him glaring.
He wobbled a little. “Shit. I’m sorry, Mallory, I-I don’t know why I did that.” He touched his lips as he stumbled backward.
“No, neither do I…Let’s just forget about it. Come on. You need to get home to bed.” She knew he was drunk. She knew he was grieving, but boy was she going to have to work on forgiving him for that latest development.
She helped fold him into her car which wasn’t really built for huge hulking men. Fastened his seat belt and slammed the door almost off its hinges.
When she had climbed into the driver’s seat he was looking at her.
“You’re mad with me; please don’t be mad with me.” He pleaded, “I couldn’t help myself, I really couldn’t. I’m sorry. I know you don’t see me that way.”
She huffed. “You don’t see me that way either when you’re sober, Greg. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning so let’s not worry, eh?”
“Mallory?”
“Yes, Greg, what is it?” she snapped.
“It is morning.”
Chapter Nine
Over two hours later Mallory helped Greg upstairs into his bedroom. She figured that undressing him was probably inappropriate in light of recent events and settled for pulling off his boots and pulling the duvet over him.
“Mallory?” Greg whispered as Mallory put his boots together under his bed.
Mallory sat beside him on the bed. “Yes?”
“I’m not sorry,” Greg mumbled.
“Not sorry about what?” He had a lot to be sorry for this evening, but clearly he disagreed.
“For kissing you.”
Mallory shook her head as she stood and walked toward the door. She switched off the light and without speaking, left him to sleep off his alcohol fuelled stupor.
She had set her alarm so that she could get up and go to Greg’s house early to check up on him. Once awake, she showered and pulled on her dark blue jeans and a lilac T-shirt with an image of the Eiffel Tower on the front. It was slightly off shoulder and rested just on her hips. She gave Ruby a cuddle and set off for Greg’s.
Greg lived a ten minute drive away in a detached white painted cottage at the end of a secluded track. There were other houses on there, but Greg’s was more isolated than the others.
Most of the rooms were on the ground floor, but there was an en-suite bedroom upstairs where Greg slept. He had simple taste and most of his furniture came from junk shops giving it a very eclectic feel. There was an old fashioned juke box in one corner which he had repaired and converted to play CD’s. It was full of his favourite bands. Mallory was quite amazed at the variety of music he owned. From Dougie MacLean to Tool, Queens of The Stoneage and A Perfect Circle.
She opened Greg’s front door and called his name. He didn’t answer. She went up the stairs to his room. He was laid; spread eagled, face down on the bed, butt naked. He must have got up after she left and removed his clothes. His buttocks were shapely and muscular, she noticed. His back was defined, almost sculpted. To save his dignity, she pulled the covers over his lower half. She stroked his hair to try and wake him. He opened his eyes slowly and when he realised it was Mallory he sat bolt upright exposing a little more of his nakedness. Mallory gasped and averted her gaze.
He grabbed the sheet and pulled it over his manhood.
“Shit-fuck, Mallory!” He was rather shocked to say the least. Wincing and closing his eyes briefly, he held his hand up to rub his head. Feeling uneasy yet sorry for him she asked, “Are you okay? I was so worried when you took off. You were in a state when I found you.”
“I’m okay; I think…sorry to worry you. I don’t know what happened.” He shook his head, “I remember bits of it…did I…did I…kiss you?” He cringed.
“You did,” she said plainly.
“Oh God, Mallory, I am so sorry.”
She pursed her lips and folded her arms. “That’s not what you said last night.”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“When I put you to bed, you told me you weren’t sorry for kissing me.”
He blushed, beetroot red. She couldn’t help the half smile that played on her lips at his embarrassment.
“Ah. Right.” He looked down and then a look of horror crossed his face. He rubbed his eyes. “Did you…” He gestured down at his naked body. “Did you…take my clothes—”
“God no!” she interrupted rather harshly, “I took your boots off and pulled the covers over you. You must have got up and done the rest.”
He cringed and shook his head. “Regardless of what I said last night, I am sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Look, Greg, it’s difficult for me to sit here talking to you when you’re naked. I’ll go and put the kettle on, you get a quick shower and come down when you’re ready,” she instructed.
Greg waited for her to leave the room until he punched his pillow several times whispering expletives as he did so. Why was he such an arse where she was concerned? He slammed his body back into the mattress and wondered why he couldn’t be a better man around her. Huffing at himself he unsteadily climbed out of bed and went to the shower.
Mallory found all the necessary items she needed to make fresh coffee, not instant. Although, she didn’t much care that he didn’t like her coffee this morning. He’d have to put up with it.
When he was freshened up, Greg sheepishly came downstairs in his jogging bottoms and nothing else. She turned her head toward him. His dark, shaggy hair was damp. He smiled but she turned away. Slowly, he walked over to her and standing behind her, kissed the top of her head as she looked out of the kitchen window at his pretty, well-tended garden. Surprised at the gesture he made, she turned to face him. His torso was still glistening a little from his shower and she felt an unwelcome aching deep inside her. This confused her to no end. She looked up at him. He was too close for comfort.
“I am sorry I kissed you.” He breathed.
Butterflies set about dancing in her stomach. She felt angry at her reaction. “Y-yes, so you said,” she whispered. She felt an almost overwhelming urge to lick the droplets on his chest. She scrunched her eyes to liberate herself from her thoughts.
“But…I’m only sorry because I know you don’t feel the way I do.” He stroked her cheek. “If I thought for a second you felt the same…” His expression was sad, pained almost.
Mallory stuttered, “I – I don’t understand.” But really, she did.
He clenched his jaw. “Mallory, do I have to spell it out for you? I’ve wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you in the pub. That’s why I was so angry and unpleasant. I was still grieving. I shouldn’t have felt that way, but I couldn’t help it.”
She could feel his breath on her face as he looked down at her. He smelled of cologne and mint. “But…but you said you were happy to be friends. You were so sincere. I-I believed you.” Her legs had turned to jelly and her heart was pounding. Heat radiated from him and she felt flushed.
“I tolerate being only friends. If I’m completely honest, I want more. Much more. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Can’t you find room for me in your heart?” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
She was so confused; both by how her body was reacting to him and by his words. She longed to touch his muscular arms, to feel them around her, to trace the tattoo on his chest and kiss it. Why? Why? I can’t feel this way. It’s w
rong to lust after another man so soon. Half her subconscious screamed.
“I can’t, Greg, it’s not right.” She breathed. But the other half of her subconscious was screaming kiss me, just kiss me dammit! She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable. It didn’t happen.
Greg looked down at her standing there with her eyes closed. Her chest heaved as her breathing became irregular. She looked terrified. He hated that. It made him feel nauseated that she could be scared of him. But then he looked at how they were standing. Mallory was backed up against the work surface, unable to move, her hands clenched in front of her. He was about an inch away from her, looming down over her like some menace. He disgusted himself. She opened her eyes as he gazed down at her with an intense stare. His jaw still clenched. Tension wracked his body.
“I know…You don’t have to worry, I won’t say anything again.” He stepped away from her, shaking. “You’d maybe better go,” he spoke through clenched teeth and he turned to avoid eye contact. His voice had lost its warmth and now cut her with its icy edge. What had he expected to happen, really? Idiot.
“Greg, please, I’m still grieving. It’s too soon. Please don’t be upset with me. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” A sob broke free and she covered her mouth as if to stop it but was too late.
Looking at her from under his lowered eyes he spoke as coldly as he could, “I am clearly not yours to lose, now am I?” It was almost a snarl, “just go.”
Mallory rushed for the door; unsure as to what had just happened. A terrifying sense of loss once again washed over her. She was torn between running back into his arms and kissing him or running away and getting on a ‘plane to Canada or a train to Yorkshire. She summoned up some strength from somewhere and turned to him once more.
“Greg, you are my closest friend here. If I don’t have you then I may as well go home, back to Yorkshire.”
He turned his lips up into a menacing grimace. “I don’t do ultimatums,” he stated coldly.
“Please don’t be like this,” she pleaded. What else could she do?
He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again his gaze has softened a little. “Mallory. We have reached an impasse. I want what you can’t give. Enough said. It’s over. I can’t pretend to be friends with you anymore,” he choked on his words. “Now for fuck’s sake just go!”
She ran to her car and started the engine. She looked back at the house hoping for a glimpse of him coming out to chase after her. To apologise and take back what he had said. She waited. He never came.
~~~~~
“You fucking IDIOT!” Greg shouted as he slammed his fist into the wall. Tears sprang to his eyes caused by a combination of physical pain from the impact and emotional pain from the realisation of what he had just allowed to happen. He had just practically jettisoned the only woman he had ever cared about, other than Mairi. The only person he could actually call ‘friend.’ He stomped over to the window. Her car was still there. Why? What was she doing? Should he go out to her? God, he wanted to go out to her so much. His fists clenched.
He went to the door but stopped when he heard the engine of her silly little car start up. She was so going to need a bigger car come winter. That is if he hadn’t just scared her away; which he most probably had. Well done Greg. You’ve really done it this time you fucking arsehole. He mentally persecuted himself.
She had been so wonderful about the memorial for Mairi last month. So selfless in her own grief. All he had wanted to do was hold her, kiss her even. He knew she was hurting too, but she did all that for him.
He understood it was still raw for her. But he knew that they could be great together. Why wouldn’t she just look at him through different eyes? Okay, so he was eight years older, but as he had always said, age is just a number. God, the way she had looked that night at the beach. She was stunning in the way she just didn’t acknowledge her own beauty. He had said goodbye to Mairi, but only because she had given him the opportunity. She was such a special woman and he had just blown everything. How could he make it up to her now?
He had fallen for her. He didn’t want to. It had just happened. The timing was terrible. He knew that. Why didn’t she feel the same? Probably because at every given opportunity he did or said the totally wrong thing. He was so angry, but at himself; not at her. She won’t have seen that though. She clearly thought his anger was directed at her. And why wouldn’t she after how he’d behaved.
~~~~~
Mallory arrived home from Greg’s feeling heartbroken and shell shocked. She collapsed onto the sofa sobbing into the cushion and then, as usually happened, into Ruby when the little dog jumped onto her lap to see what was wrong.
She was angry with herself for feeling something for Greg. She couldn’t allow it to continue. But she did feel something. She hated herself for it. It was far too early after losing Sam, wasn’t it? Why then, when he got close to her had she yearned for him to kiss her? And why did she feel so lost now he had rejected her hand of friendship? Was it just that she needed physical contact? Is that all it was? Lust? Sex? She had never been that ‘type’ before so why would she start now?
She washed her face and made coffee. The garden was a little overgrown again, so today she would make a start on tidying it up. If she decided to sell up she would need it to be tidy. Maybe selling up was for the best? Maybe being here wasn’t healthy after all? Maybe she should just be in Yorkshire where she could work in the shop and forget ever moving here. It was a possibility.
She heard the letter box clatter. She ignored it. She didn’t make an excited dash for the post anymore. It was usually stuff still addressed to Sam, even though she’d written what felt like a million letters telling people he was deceased. She decided to sit and drink her coffee at leisure. Then she would start on the garden.
She put her empty mug in the sink and walked through the lounge to go up the stairs. She noticed an envelope on the doormat so she picked it up. There was no stamp. Odd. She placed it on the mantle shelf thinking she would look at it later.
Mallory pulled on her scruffy clothes and headed out for the garden. The weeds had taken over with a vengeance. She tugged and pulled and made a huge pile of discarded leaves and stalks. She clipped things back paying little regard to the fact that this time of year may not be the right time to do so. She didn’t much care. She just wanted to chop things and dig. She needed to exert some energy and get Greg out of her head. Her attempts were futile, however; the analytical side of her brain would not back down.
She didn’t understand her feelings at all. But she had to admit she had felt something for a while. Looking back she had felt a stab of jealousy when she’d met that Trina woman. Once again she questioned her feelings. Was it down to lust? Was it love? Was it simply platonic and she was overthinking it? No, she knew it wasn’t platonic…
The rain began to fall in earnest. She worked in it for a while but it got heavier and so she decided to give up for the day. She had been at it for a few hours and the garden was looking much tidier. She had made good progress. It was quite dark now and in the air was a strange thick feeling, like there could be a storm on its way. It was only four o’clock.
She grabbed a towel from the downstairs bathroom and scrunched it around her ponytail to soak up as much rain as she could from her hair. Then she dabbed her face. She noticed the envelope sitting there and curiosity got the better of her.
Inside the envelope was a CD and a note. The CD was not a shop bought pre-recorded one. It was blank apart from the words ‘For Mallory—I’m sorry—again.’ She opened the note that accompanied it.
Mallory, once again I have proved myself unworthy of your friendship and most definitely of anything else. Since meeting you I appear to have lost the ability to communicate my feelings like an adult. In fact, I am not sure I ever could. I made you cry again which makes me sick to my stomach. Please listen to the tracks on the CD. Hopefully they will explain a lot better than I can. Your friend, always, Gr
eg.
He had underlined always twice. On the reverse of the note was a track list. Some songs she knew and others were new to her.
With her heart pounding, she placed the CD into her stereo and hesitantly hit play. The first track began with the haunting melody of violins and guitar. She didn’t recognise the voice of the singer but it had a distinct, ethereal quality. Glancing at the note she read, track one: ‘3 Libras’—A Perfect Circle. A cold chill enveloped her. The vocalist sang about feeling almost invisible and unseen. This must be how he feels. The words jumped out of the track at her and she was overcome by a feeling of sadness. The singer continued, conveying what she interpreted as Greg’s message. A single tear escaped from her eye. Over and over again the words came.
Track two she knew and loved. It was one of her favourite Foo Fighters tracks ‘Walking After You’. She had never really listened to the words of the song; she had only ever swayed around to it, eyes closed, at gigs and clubs.
Greg’s determination and need to be with her, now audible in words he could and would never say directly to her himself. Dave Grohl’s usually growling voice was a soft, soothing whisper, floating out from the speakers. As she listened on, line after line jumped out at her. Greg’s sentiment pierced her heart and a shiver travelled down her spine as Mallory sat staring into space and letting the things that he was communicating to her sink in. He knew that there was a chance she would run away, but he would follow. Perhaps he knew that she felt something too, but was denying it?
Track three came. There was a melancholy quality to the poetry. She wasn’t sure of the original intention of the lyricist when The Fray had been writing the song but Mallory read what she thought Greg had put between the lines of ‘How to Save a Life’. One particular phrase released a sob from deep within her and the tears streamed; it spoke of letting friends down and being unable to do the right thing. He was sorry. So sorry, she could see that now.
Bridge Over the Atlantic Page 20
