Guilty Needs

by Shiloh Walker

  “He’s your husband, damn it. I shouldn’t…”

  “You can’t control who you love. It’s not something we’re given a choice in, Bree. And it’s not something we should choose. Why be sorry for something you can’t control? You’ve never done anything about it, you’ve hidden it, you’ve never let it come between us. It’s not as if you ever tried to take him away from me.”

  Appalled, Bree stared at Alyssa. “Why would I? He loves you. He—”

  The faint smile on Alyssa’s mouth had Bree swallowing the rest of her words.

  “I know.” Shaking her head, Alyssa said, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  Although it wasn’t a question, Bree couldn’t help but respond to it anyway. “I never did anything, Lys. I swear, I never—”

  “Bree. I know,” Alyssa said softly. She held out her hand—thin, frail and trembling.

  But when Bree linked their hands, she felt as though she was the weak one. Physically, emotionally and mentally. “You’re not mad at me? Why aren’t you mad at me?”

  “No, I’m not mad. Hell, Bree, how could I be mad?”

  “I don’t get how you can’t be mad.” Sick inside, humiliated, scared, miserable, Bree tried to pull away. “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Alyssa, impatient as ever, rolled her eyes. “Enough with the ‘I’m sorry’ crap, Bree. It’s okay. I’m not mad. I just…well, look. I know you love him. That’s why I know I can ask this…favor.”

  “Favor.” Wary, Bree pushed off the bed and backed away. Tucking her hands into her pockets, she asked, “I think you need to explain about this favor.”

  “I don’t want Colby to be alone,” Alyssa said quietly. Her voice was faint, a bare echo of the deep, throaty purr it had been since her mid-teens. But for all its softness, it was firm. And certain. Very, very certain. “He deserves a happy life, but I know him. He’s going to lock himself away over this and brood. And brood. And brood and brood. You get the point.”

  “He’s good at brooding. But he’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t seem to get what I’m wanting here.”

  Rolling her eyes, Bree said, “That’s because you haven’t asked me for anything. I’m not quite the mind-reader you are.”

  Alyssa smiled. “That’s just because you like being the stubborn type. If you weren’t so damn stubborn, you’d know what I was getting at. I want you…with Colby.”

  “With Colby.” Bree blinked, the words rattling around in her mind, but not connecting, not making any sense. “What do you mean?

  “I mean, I want you with Colby,” Alyssa said.

  Bree’s jaw dropped. Alyssa grinned.

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “I want him happy. I don’t want him hooking up with some money grubber and I don’t want him spending his life alone.”

  “Alyssa, he’s thirty years old. He’s got…” her voice trailed off. Man, it just seemed so damn wrong to talk about this right now. With Alyssa dying and her husband out chasing after lime sherbet for her.

  “I know he’s young. I know he’s got time. But life’s precious. It wasn’t until this happened that I realized just how precious it is. I don’t want him to waste a minute of it. Colby, he’s every bit as stubborn as you are. Remember how long it took him to ask me out?”

  “Nearly a year.” They said it together. Colby was the classic sexy geek come to life. A computer whiz, a science-fiction buff, a state chess champion and he was also an all-star athlete. Between his SATs and his ability on the basketball court and track, he’d gotten a full scholarship.

  The three of them had grown up together and sometime during their freshman year, the two girls had both noticed how cute the brainy geek from eighth grade had gotten. It was Alyssa, though, who went after him. And Alyssa he fell in love with. She’d chased after him most their freshman year and just after tenth grade started, he finally asked her out. They’d been together ever since and Bree had spent most of that time in quiet envy. It might have been enough to break the friendship of some girls, but although Bree had privately fallen more and more in love with Colby, Alyssa was the sister she’d never had and she wasn’t about to lose that.

  “Alyssa, you know I’d do anything for you, but you’re asking me for something that’s not in my control. What do you want me to do, show up here and tell him you want me to be with him so he doesn’t grow old alone? So he isn’t lonely or spending hours on end brooding? I can’t control that. Besides, why in the hell would he want me? He has to want me, or it doesn’t matter…” she trailed off, licked her lips and reminded herself that Alyssa already knew. It wasn’t such a secret anymore. “It doesn’t matter that I love him, unless he wants that from me.”

  “And I think he will. You asked why in the hell he would want you, but I’ve got a better question. Why wouldn’t he?” Her lids drooped and her voice started to slur from exhaustion.

  “You need to get some rest, Alyssa.”

  “I’ve got plenty of time for that. Not so much for this.” She started to shiver, though. Bree grabbed the blanket and tucked it around Alyssa’s thin body. “I know I can’t control him. But I also know him. He’s going to hide—either in his work or in anything else that distracts him. Don’t let him hide, and when the time is right, I want you to do the same damn thing I did. Go after him.”

  “You’d think, after twenty-five years, you couldn’t surprise me, Lys.” Shaking her head, Bree started to pace the room, staying close by the bed and keeping an eye on her friend. But she just couldn’t stand still. Not right now. “But I don’t get it. I can’t understand this.”

  “There’s nothing complicated about it. I want the two of you happy. You’re my best friend, he’s my husband—I’ve never loved anybody the way I love you two. Why wouldn’t I want you to be happy?”

  “I couldn’t do this—if we were switched, I know I couldn’t do this.”

  Alyssa smiled. “Baby, I think you probably could…but I’m glad it’s me. And not you.”

  Snarling, Bree demanded, “How in the hell can you say that? It damn well should be me. It’s not like I’ve got a man who’s going to grieve if I die. The only important person I’d leave behind is you. Damn it, it should be me!”

  “No. If it should be you, it would be— Bree, I’m glad it’s not.” She closed her eyes and a heavy, sighing breath escaped her. “I’m not as strong as you are, Bree. I’d break. If I had to watch this happen to you, watch this happen to anybody I love, I’d break. I’d do exactly what most of my other friends have done and just disappear. I couldn’t handle it. But you can. You’re strong, Bree. You always have been.”

  You’re wrong, Bree wanted to say.

  But Alyssa was already asleep.

  Blinded by tears, half-sick with guilt and disgust and despair, Bree headed for the door. She had to get out of here. Get on her bike, crank it up and let the wind blow it all away. If she went fast enough, far enough, maybe she could escape it.

  You’re strong, Bree. You always have been. Shit, what a pathetic joke.

  She plowed straight into a rock-hard chest. Jerking away, she mumbled, “Sorry,” and tried to go around Colby but he caught her arm. Heat flared along her skin where he touched her. As guilty as she felt, she loved the feel of his body touching hers, even a touch as innocent as this.

  “Bree, are you okay?” His tawny eyes left her face, looking toward the room he shared with Alyssa. “Is Lys…?”

  Forcing a smile, she said, “She’s asleep. I’m just… I just need to breathe.”

  His fingers fell away from her arm, but before she could escape, he rested his hand on her shoulder. Through her T-shirt, she could feel the heat of him, the strength. His thumb swept along her skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake and Bree flushed painfully red. Tucking her chin against her chest, she held still, tried not to breathe, not to move.

  “It’s hard.”

  Startled, Bree looked up at him.
He had that lopsided smile that Bree had so fallen in love with, but it was sad. “Watching her day after day, seeing how much she hurts and how tired she is. Some of our friends, well…they can’t take it. They’ve pretty much stopped coming over. Some of them don’t even call any more. You don’t know how much it means to us that you keep coming over every day.”

  Shit, could she possibly feel any guiltier? Didn’t seem possible, but Bree realized she was wrong. As he innocently stroked her shoulder and tried to make her feel better while his dying wife lay sleeping, Bree stood there, her body reacting to his touch as though he had stripped her naked and put his mouth on her. Her guilt grew until it encompassed everything.

  Haltingly, she said, “She’s my best friend, Colby. I need to be with her.”

  “I know. And she needs you.”

  Tears blurred her eyes. Rage churned inside, trapped, unable to find any outlet. She started to shake and she knew, just knew she was going to break. Alyssa was wrong. Bree wasn’t strong—she was about as weak as they come.

  Colby sighed.

  So attuned to him, Bree heard the soft catch in the sound and unwittingly, she lifted her head and looked at him. Saw a muscle jerk in his jaw, saw the suspicious glitter in his eyes. But then he blinked and it was gone. “I’m glad she has you with her, Colby.”

  Then she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. If she breathed in the scent of his skin a little deeper than she should, it wasn’t intentional. If she shivered a little and wished she had the right to kiss him differently, it wasn’t because she could help it. She loved him—she always had.

  But no matter what Alyssa had asked of her, this wasn’t something she could do.

  The next day, Alyssa was gone. Colby had lain down with her for a nap and she died quietly in his arms while her private-duty nurse was at lunch. Bree was five miles away, bringing Alyssa some cinnamon candy from a small, family owned candy shop, even though she knew Alyssa wouldn’t eat them. She’d spent the past day trying to come up with the words for Alyssa, words to explain that what Alyssa wanted wasn’t something that Bree could really do.

  But it was too late for explanations.

  Too late to tell her best friend how sorry she was, even if Alyssa didn’t want apologies.

  Too late to do anything but watch as Colby quietly and emotionlessly went about the task of calling the doctor and everybody else. Even though the nurse told them she’d handle it, Colby did it all. And when it was done, when all the final arrangements were made, he walked out of the house without looking back. She didn’t see him for two days, not until the visitation, and he didn’t say a word, didn’t speak to anybody. It was almost like looking at a robot.

  Today was no better.

  He continued to stare down into the gaping hole in the earth. The silent agony on his face had her eyes tearing up. She wanted to say something, wanted to do something, but what was there to say? What was there for her to do?

  Still, she couldn’t just stand there. Making her way across the sodden earth, the heels of her boots sinking into the soggy ground, rain pelting her face and hair, she went to stand with him. “Colby.”

  At first, he didn’t even act as if he’d heard her. Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze from Alyssa’s coffin and stared at Bree as though he’d never seen her before. She gave him a half-hearted smile and held out a hand. “Come on. You don’t need to keep standing in this rain.”

  Off to the side, a sleek, dark-gray limo waited, but if she knew Colby, there was no way he was going to climb into it. He’d followed the unspoken funeral protocol, done what was expected, arriving at the funeral home and sitting in the front pew as Danny spoke about Alyssa’s too-short life and the grace she’d shown even when death came for her. The words had been like ashes to Bree and she had no doubt the words of comfort and commiseration had been every bit as bitter for Colby.

  Now the funeral was over and there was nobody but them. He’d likely throw protocol to the wayside.

  As though following her line of thought, he glanced toward the limo and his lip curled. “Do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  Jerking his head toward the limo, he said, “Tell them to get the hell out of here.”

  She rephrased a little, explaining to the driver that she’d get Colby home. As the limo drove off down the narrow black road, she made her way back to Colby. Inside her boots, her feet were damp and cold. Her sodden skirt didn’t do anything to block the chilly wind.

  Keeping her arms wrapped around her midsection, she joined him once more at the graveside. “Let me drive you home, Colby.”

  He shook his head. His dark hair was plastered to his head, he was soaked through and through, but he showed no intention of getting out of the rain. “I can’t go back to that house right now, Bree. I can’t do it.”

  She suppressed a sigh. Pushing her dripping hair back from her face, she hooked her arm through his and tugged. To her surprise, he fell in beside her. Every step away from Alyssa’s grave was painful and by the time they reached her car, tears mingled with the rain on her face. “We’ll go to my house for a while, if you want.”

  “Fine.” His voice was hollow. Expressionless. His eyes were every bit as empty. “Whatever.”

  Help him through this…she knew that was what she needed to do.

  But Bree had no idea how. How did you help a person who had lost the other half of their soul?

  It still didn’t seem real.

  Colby had known this day was coming for weeks now. He had feared it for months, ever since Alyssa’s lab tests came back showing positive for cancer cells. But still, it did not seem real.

  It might if he let himself think about it, but he wasn’t ready to do that.

  Fortunately, Bree seemed content to drive in silence, not trying to force him to talk about anything, anybody. Since they’d climbed into the big black truck she drove when she was working, she hadn’t said anything.

  It was meticulous inside the cab. Bree owned her own landscaping service and usually her truck was a mess of notes, gloves, fast-food boxes, clipboards on the inside and the truck bed was full of tools and equipment.

  But today it was pristine. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the headrest and breathed in the scent of Armor All, rain—and Bree. The woman always smelled like flowers. Incongruous as hell, such a soft, feminine scent on Bree, a woman who stood five-foot ten, hauled around forty-pound bags of soil and regularly kicked ass on the basketball court. With the rain pounding down around them and the quiet in the truck’s cab, he almost—almost—felt comforted.

  Almost felt as though he was ready to think about it.

  A knot formed in his throat and he realized he wanted to talk—needed to talk. But then the truck stopped and the engine cut off. Opening his eyes, he saw that they were in Bree’s driveway. The thirty-minute drive had passed far too quickly and dread churned inside him. He didn’t want to go in there.

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  Bree’s house would be almost as bad as home—pictures of the two women all over the place, ranging from when they’d been cute kindergarteners showing off gap-toothed grins up to the barbecue at the house last summer. Up until Alyssa had gotten too weak to leave the house, she’d still come over to Bree’s house two or three times a week and many of those times, Colby had been with her. This place had practically been a second home.

  But Bree was already climbing out of the truck. She stood in the driveway, and once more, rain soaked her through. She stared at him levelly and he knew she wasn’t going to go inside until he did. Some lingering courtesy had him climbing out of the truck, and as one, they headed into the garage. The garage was half office space, half storage space and unlike her truck, it was always meticulously organized.

  Inside the house, warmth wrapped around him and he abruptly realized how damn wet he was. He stripped out of his overcoat and Bree took it from him before he could figure out where to put it. As she moved away, he pu
shed a hand through his wet hair and glanced down and realized he was dripping all over the floor. He took off his shoes—they were probably ruined after standing in mud and rain all day. Something knotted in his chest as he carefully put them on the floor by the door. Alyssa had made him buy the damn things a few years ago, telling him he needed to own something besides three or four pairs of tennis shoes, a pair of hiking boots and a very badly abused pair of loafers.

  Dragging his eyes away from the shoes, he headed into the kitchen and found Bree standing at the counter, making up a pot of coffee. The strong scent of it already filled the air. Grabbing a couple of paper towels, he mopped the rain from his face and hands. His clothes were still damp but at least he wasn’t dripping now that he’d taken off the shoes and coat.

  “You want something to eat?” Bree asked quietly.

  “No.”

  She grimaced. “Me neither. Okay, let’s try this—have you eaten anything today?”

  Colby blinked and tried to remember. No. He was pretty sure he hadn’t. Yesterday at the visitation, one of their friends had tried to talk him into a sandwich, but after two bites, he’d put it down. As far as he could recall, that was the last thing he’d eaten and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d eaten much of anything since…

  Since…

  Shit. The burn of tears stung his eyes and he turned away from Bree and rubbed a hand across his face. He wasn’t ready to do this. Not yet. Not here. Where and when escaped him, because Colby wasn’t too certain he’d ever be ready to acknowledge reality, but he sure as hell didn’t want to do it here and now.

  “Colby.”

  He glanced at Bree over his shoulder and gave a half-hearted shrug. “No. I’m not really hungry—” he tried to tell her but she was already rooting through the refrigerator.

  Over her shoulder, she said, “I’m not hungry either, but we both should probably eat. I bet I haven’t had a regular meal this week.” Turning to face him, her arms full of lettuce, lunch meat and tomatoes, she cocked a brow at him. “Have you?”