Because of the List

by Amy Knupp

  Alex stared at it then looked away.

  “Take it, Alex. It’s yours. He’d want you to have it.”

  “Why today?”

  She couldn’t face, even privately, the nagging fear that he might treat her differently after today. Might distance himself from her. With the house projects finished, it could be weeks before she saw him again. She blinked and swallowed against that possibility.

  “I’ll be moving soon if the offer on my house comes through. Time to take care of things like this.” Just business. Sure.

  She half expected him to argue, but he nodded. Took the gun from her. Nodded again.

  “Thank you.” He raised it and looked through the scope. “It’s a hell of a rifle.”

  “If you say so.”

  He lowered it, held it in both hands above his lap, examined it more closely. She saw him swallow hard and understood a little of what he was going through. Holding something that had been so much a part of her brother made it seem as if Quinn himself should come strutting through the door with a smart-aleck remark.

  Wishing she could spare him the pain, she put her hand on his thigh.

  Alex pointed the gun down, pulled the back part of it and looked into the chamber on the side. She assumed he was double-checking for ammunition. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he set the gun on the floor by the bag.

  He sat back and drew Taylor toward him, so she crawled on his lap. Arms around each other, they quietly grieved, and for the first time, Taylor felt that maybe the pain wouldn’t suffocate her if she let herself think about her brother. She felt as if, together, she and Alex could get through the darkest times. Closing her eyes, she clung to the connection that hummed between them. Minutes passed without them moving or speaking.

  Then Alex went from still and comforting to fidgety. Taylor reluctantly untangled herself from him, moved to the side. Best to get the rest over with.

  “I know you’re probably ready to get home…” she began. She cleared her throat. “But would you go somewhere with me first?”

  “Where?” Alex’s eyes were damp.

  Seeing him like that twisted her up inside.

  If she answered his question, he might refuse to go. “You’ll see when we get there. It’s not far.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve got nothing planned.”

  She’d take that as a yes, lack of enthusiasm or not. It wasn’t a happy errand anyway. But something had changed in the air between them in the past five minutes. Something that she couldn’t name, but it scared her. The closeness of the past day had vanished.

  Her hair was only half-dry, but she merely ran a comb through it. They put their shoes on and Taylor grabbed her keys and purse, all without a word between them.

  Fifteen minutes later, when she turned her car into the boat-storage lot located near the lakeshore, Alex’s eyes bored into the side of her head. She refused to meet his gaze. He undoubtedly remembered this was where Quinn stored his fishing boat. Still, he didn’t say anything.

  Taylor hadn’t been here before and had no idea where to find Quinn’s shed. She took a right at the first row and drove slowly so she could see the numbers.

  “It’s the other way,” Alex said. “Row closest to the shore.”

  She turned the car around and followed his directions to find number seventy-three. Pulled up right outside of it and turned off the engine. It wasn’t until she was out the door and about to try the key in the garage lock that she noticed Alex hadn’t moved. He sat with his head back against the headrest, eyes closed.

  Taylor trudged to the passenger side and opened the door. “Are you coming?” she asked gently.

  Alex sat there for several more seconds without moving, without opening his eyes. Taylor leaned on the frame of the door, waiting. Finally he nodded, met her gaze. She wanted to hold out her hand for him but didn’t want to be rejected. Instead, she stood back while he pulled his long body out of the compact front seat.

  She bent down to the lock, stuck the key in and turned it. Together they raised the mini-garage door to reveal the fishing craft sitting on a trailer. The sight of it didn’t hit her the way so many other of Quinn’s possessions had. She’d seen the boat when it was new, years ago, but had never been out on the water with him. Quinn and Alex had always been fishing enthusiasts but she’d had no interest.

  But Alex…she watched him as he walked alongside it, running his hand over the top and just staring. She knew he was being barraged by a thousand memories. She wasn’t sure he even noticed when she sidled up next to him, wishing this wasn’t hurting him. That wasn’t the reason she’d brought him out here.

  She waited until he shifted, became aware she was there, and then she held out the keys to the storage unit and the boat. “It’s yours. I’m paying the storage for another year, but if you want to sell the boat, I understand.”

  “Not sure I can sell it.” His voice was heavy with sadness. “Not sure I can use it.”

  “That’s your decision. I’d forgotten all about it until I got the storage renewal bill in the mail today. I keep wondering what other reminders will show up out of nowhere.”

  He shoved the key ring in his pocket and strode out of the garage as if she’d said the wrong thing. As he hung a left and disappeared instead of climbing into the car, Taylor wilted against the inside wall.

  Emerging from the garage two minutes later, she searched for Alex but didn’t see him. She followed the line of garages, all of them connected so there was nowhere to go but the end of the row. Once she cleared the long structure, she spotted him twenty yards away on top of an old wooden picnic table close to the water. He stared toward the middle of the lake, at nothing if she had to guess. She headed toward him, refusing to pay heed to a heavy sense of foreboding.

  The table wobbled when she stepped up on the bench seat to join him.

  “Maybe it’s time for a diet,” she said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

  He didn’t reply.

  They sat side by side watching the boats in the distance. A determined bird hidden in the trees to their left serenaded them, the song mixing with the periodic slosh of water on the rocks. The sun had started its final descent for the evening and the air had cooled a few degrees. The evening would be perfect—if there wasn’t so much hanging unspoken between them. It went beyond grief, at least in Taylor’s mind.

  A ski boat with a group of noisy teens and an older man sped by then turned, cut its speed and made its way to the boat ramp farther down, just on the other side of the storage compound. Taylor and Alex both watched as the group efficiently loaded the boat on a waiting trailer and left. The absence of raucous, happy sounds from the water-skiers emphasized the quiet between them.

  “Thank you for giving me his boat,” Alex said several minutes later, still staring out at the water. “And the rifle.”

  “I didn’t do it to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset.” He wove his fingers together and corrected himself. “No more upset now than usual.”

  “I know.”

  He’d weathered his personal storm of self-blame and sadness for months by himself. Taylor believed with every fiber of her being that she could help him work through things if only he’d let her. But she didn’t know how to start.

  “Alex.”

  Her heart beat several times as she waited for him to acknowledge that she’d spoken. Finally, he shot a fleeting glance her way, not even meeting her eyes.

  “If you don’t mind, I need a few minutes alone.” His voice was a monotone. Detached.

  “If you’d talk about it, maybe it would help—”

  “Nothing will help, Taylor,” he snapped. He bowed his head. “Please.”

  She clamped her jaw shut against the sting of his words. Staring at him, she gave him ample time, endless chances to soften what he’d said. He didn’t speak another word.

  Really? After their closeness of the past day and a half? The months leading up to it? He could shut her down s
o coldly? Not being ready to talk was one thing, but shutting her out like that…

  Taylor climbed down from the table without a word and made her way to the car. She surprised herself with the force she used to slam the door shut, then hit the inside for good measure.

  Slumping in her semireclined seat, she closed her eyes against the tears that were gathering. It didn’t help. They spilled out from the corners and ran down the sides of her face into her hair.

  It had been risky to spend more time with him, especially after admitting her feelings to herself, but she’d thought she could handle it. Had thought that the realization that they wouldn’t end up with a happily-ever-after would leave her prepared. Able to stave off the hurt when he went on his way, whether to the army or another woman.

  Taylor allowed herself three minutes to purge the tears that had built up. She refused to let Alex find her wailing and licking her wounds when he finally returned to the car.

  When her three minutes were up, she raised the seat and caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. Her hair was tangled from driving with the car windows down. Her green eyes stood out, partly because they were damp and partly because she no longer wore her glasses. There was a hint of color in her cheeks and it wasn’t from an embarrassed flush for once but just from living.

  She barely recognized the woman who stared back at her for a moment, but then she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked more closely. This was who she’d become in the past few weeks.

  Without really noticing it, she’d changed inside to match the external metamorphosis. She’d worked her way out of her shell, pushed herself, with Vienna’s help, to try new situations. Forced herself repeatedly outside of her comfort zone. She’d met people, gotten to know a few. Dated. Survived being treated like dirt by a man and not blamed herself as she once would have. She’d turned into a more confident person who wasted less time fretting over what others thought.

  She’d become someone she liked. Only now did it hit her that maybe in the past she hadn’t been able to love herself. Now she could. And she believed others could love her, as well.

  Like Alex.

  You didn’t spend thirty-some hours straight with a woman unless you had feelings for her. Sure, sex skewed things a bit, but it hadn’t been just sex for either of them.

  There were the things he’d said to her in a low voice, in the early-morning hours, when she’d joked about her campaign to meet the perfect man. There was the way he’d insisted on getting up and making breakfast for them, refusing her help. She knew he hated to cook, but he’d come back to the bedroom with a bowl full of scrambled eggs and a stack of whole-wheat toast. Tea for her, with the right amount of lemon.

  She’d never told him how much lemon she liked in her tea.

  He’d let her choose the movie they’d watched in bed, on her laptop. Hadn’t grumbled when she’d opted for a romantic comedy.

  He’d watched out for her all these weeks. Been protective of her, bordering on overprotective, and while he maintained it was all because of Quinn, she no longer believed that.

  What she believed was that he cared more about her than he’d let on. More than he’d admitted to her…and maybe to himself.

  She was no longer the girl who was afraid to love him. There was something pretty amazing between them, and it was time for him to face up to it, as well.

  For the first time, she allowed herself to believe they could have a future together. Just as soon as she told him what she thought of his own cowardice.

  Taylor got out and slammed the door, a new determination—and an underlying hope—propelling her back to the shore.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ALEX HAD SPENT the twenty-five minutes since Taylor had stormed off debating with himself. Get the hell out of here on foot, without telling her? Or stay and face the inevitable confrontation? He’d been seconds away from walking several times, but the thought of her face when she realized he was gone had rooted him to his spot on the table.

  Now he’d apparently waited too long.

  He didn’t turn around when he heard her approaching behind him, though his leg was starting to stiffen up. Guess that was the price you paid for a night of mattress aerobics. A sore leg and a woman with a bone to pick, if her quick, deliberate steps through the sandy grass were any indication.

  “We need to talk.”

  The four most dreaded words in the English language. He supposed he deserved them several times over.

  “Here?” He’d prefer anywhere else. Tahoe. Brazil. Anything to put off talking about Quinn again. Or last night. Or whatever the hell it was she was so intent on discussing. All the talk in the world wasn’t going to change how badly he’d screwed up.

  She stepped directly in front of him, nearly at eye level with him because of the way he was hunched over. When he met her gaze, there was fire in those green eyes of hers and he knew he was in trouble.

  He should’ve taken off when he’d had the chance.

  “I swore to myself a hundred times over I would never tell you this, Alex,” she said, touching his knee lightly. “But it occurred to me that that was letting you off easy.” She looked to the side, her chest rising as she inhaled. Then she pegged him with a direct stare again. “I guess I’m not a fan of easy anymore. I’m in love with you.”

  He closed his eyes. No. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d been foolish to stay over last night, dumber still to hang around all day, but he hadn’t expected Taylor to throw this at him.

  Before he could come up with an acceptable response, she carried on.

  “That’s exactly what I expected you to say.”

  He furrowed his forehead in confusion. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Exactly. But that’s okay because I have a lot of things to get out so you can just sit there and listen till your ears bleed.”

  Any other time he’d notice how cute she was when she was mad, but now he was too overwhelmed with hating himself to think anything positive.

  “I have a theory,” she continued. “I suspect you actually love me, too. But you’re too stubborn to see it or admit it. Big burly army guy who’s afraid of so little and yet won’t face up to his feelings. Ironic, isn’t it? I’m the one who’s supposed to be afraid of so much…?.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, and stared him down expectantly.

  “Taylor…”

  She nodded once, as if he’d proved her point. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Stop…”

  “Maybe it would be smart for me to stop, but this time I’m not going to play it smart. You’re so worried about what Quinn would think, but you have it all wrong. All Quinn would ever want is for me to be happy.”

  “I’m not that guy, Taylor.”

  “If I’m wrong and you really don’t love me, okay. I’ll eventually accept that. I’ll be able to live with myself knowing I leveled with you.”

  “I can’t love you,” he said quietly when she paused to take a breath. “I can’t love anyone. I’m trying to figure out how to live with myself. I’d do nothing but hurt you. Hurt you more.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she studied him, defiant at first, then less confident. She bit the corner of her bottom lip and he had to look away before her expression turned to hurt. This was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid.

  The old Taylor would’ve backed down, but this new, determined one surprised him.

  “You know what I think, Alex? I think you’re stuck.” She uncrossed her arms emphatically. Clenched her jaw momentarily. “Yes, something horrible happened to you and Quinn and everyone on that helicopter. We lost a really good guy that day.” Her voice cracked, but she pushed on. “It wasn’t your fault and I suspect deep down you know that. But it’s time—past time—to embrace that. You need to stop using the accident as an excuse not to live.”

  Taylor stared at him a moment longer, shook her head and walked away.

  “Don’t bother waiting,” he called
after her. “I’ll find my own ride home.”

  “Works for me.” She didn’t even look back when she answered.

  TAYLOR DIDN’T SHED A TEAR on the drive home. Nor did she feel in the least bit guilty about leaving Alex by the lake.

  She pulled her car into the garage dry-eyed. Walked, unseeing, across the driveway and the deck. Let herself in the house and blew out a long, shaky breath. Congratulated herself for handling that confrontation and the aftermath so well.

  The kitchen was a mess from their slumber party so she set her purse down and immediately started tidying, rinsing dishes, stacking them in the dishwasher. Busy work. Blessed busy work.

  As she moved one of the dirty plates Alex had used to serve their breakfast, she discovered the egg carton sitting on the counter beneath it. She flipped the top open. Three eggs remained. They’d sat out on the counter all day, at room temperature.

  That was all it took.

  Sobs burst from her with the power of Niagara Falls. She shoved the remaining dishes—and the eggs—out of her way and leaned over the counter, blinded by tears.

  The back door opened and Taylor froze, automatically thinking it was Alex. She wiped her hands over her face and turned around before she could reason with herself that there was no way he could get here that fast.

  “Taylor, honey, what’s wrong?” Vienna rushed toward her, eyes wide with alarm.

  At the sight of her friend’s face, Taylor let go of the ounce of control she’d mustered, unable to hold it together for another second.

  Vienna pulled her into a hug and let her cry. “What happened, Tay?”

  Taylor tried to get a full breath, tried to slow down so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. “He…he…left the e-eggs out. I have to th-throw them awa-a-ay.”

  “Who left the eggs out?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say his name. She felt Vienna nod after a few seconds.