by Tessa Teevan
Words I Couldn’t Say
Copyright © 2016 Tessa Teevan
Editing by Mickey Reed
Photo Credit: Sara Eirew Photography Copyright 2015
Cover Designer: Robin Harper at Wicked By Design
Formatting: Champagne Formats
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Author's Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Playlist
Other Books
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Author’s Note: I’m so excited to finally see Ava Banks all grown up! As an Explosive series spin-off, Words I Couldn’t Say is a completely standalone book. However, if you have read Ignite and Fusion, you know Ava was born in 2008, making this book set in the future: 2031. It’s still framed as if life hasn’t changed much, and all pop culture references were made in jest. Let’s be honest. The Backstreet Boys are timeless! I hope you enjoy Ava and Tucker!
HER WEAKENED KNEES BUCKLED UNCEREMONIOUSLY under the weight of her grief, sending her waif-like frame into a crumpled heap on the floor next to his bedside. What should have still been his bedside. But never again would he rest in that spot on the mattress, next to her, holding her, loving her.
The anguish piercing her soul plummeted it to depths unimaginable. How could she go on after this? How could she continue to live in this newly empty world when she’d just buried her heart? How could she breathe without the only man she’d ever loved, especially after having just found him again? How could she do any of it without him by her side, holding her hand, holding her heart?
It was simple. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. But how could she not?
The confliction in her heart was incomprehensible. She wanted to be with him, whether that was in life or in death, but she knew, he’d never forgive her if she forced their afterlife reunion to come before the fates had decided that it was time for them to meet again.
Abigail’s shoulders convulsed as sobs racked her petite body. The sound of her cries echoed in the empty room, and that was exactly how she felt. Empty. Barren. A desolate, hollow shell of the happiness that had once consumed her.
However long she remained there, on the ground, unfeeling, unmoving, she wasn’t aware. But, eventually, the tears she’d shed exhausted her into a sleepy daze. She slowly rose and pushed the covers back, crawling into the space in which he’d so recently slept, peacefully even in the wake of his impending demise. Even knowing he would soon draw his last breath, he had continued to smile, showering her in the magnitude of his love and his laughter, and not for a single second had she seen him shed a tear. That was her Trevor. Strong until the end, even when his body had been weakened beyond repair.
The moment she rested her head on his pillow, another surge of hot tears threatened behind the blues of her eyes as the scent of his favorite soap hit her senses. A fresh wave of grief crested and crashed all around her, just like her life had done in the past few days.
Abigail knew that Trevor wouldn’t want this for her, and she knew, in the depths of her soul, she had to get herself together. She blinked once, then twice, taking deep, slow, and steady breaths, struggling to prevent herself from enduring another bout of hyperventilation that would likely bring an unwanted panic attack on. The last thing she wanted—and, inversely, the only thing she wanted—was to spend another night medicated because she couldn’t get past the turmoil of her grief. Her throat tightened as she forced herself to admit that truth in her head. The more she did so, perhaps the easier it would be to accept.
Trevor was gone.
Her husband, the love of her life, her one true soul mate, was gone.
Easier? She was kidding herself. The finality of those words did little to alleviate her pain, no matter how many times she repeated them in her head. She knew he’d hate to see her like this. Heck, he’d as much as said so time and time again. The one thing, perhaps the only thing, that would help were his final words.
Tired eyes swam with tears as memories of his last request hit her. His frail hand, once large and tanned from hours spent on the baseball field, had unexpectedly cradled hers. The sensation had shocked her; the realization that Trevor was fading fast had suddenly become so much more real. His skin had been cold and clammy, and instead of enveloping her delicate fingers like he used to, he’d simply rested his thinned-out ones on the top of her palm.
“Abigail.” Once booming and boisterous, his voice had now been a mere whisper, another devastating sign of the weakness due to his losing battle with cancer that had set upon him swiftly and cruelly.
Even though Abigail wanted nothing more than to burst into tears at the sight of her love wilting away, she swallowed them down and set her chin, not wishing to cause Trevor any more pain or regret. She knew he’d already blamed himself for all the time they’d lost when they’d been apart. There was no need for her to add to his guilt. So, instead, she gave him a tremulous smile and reassuringly squeezed his hand.
“Yes, Trevor?”
“You know I love you?” he croaked. There was a finality in his voice she wasn’t prepared for, sinking her heart to depths she’d never experienced but soon would.
She leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to his mouth. “I love you, Trevor. Always,” she whispered against his cracked lips. When she pulled back, she gasped at the raw torment in his dulled, blue eyes.
“It’s almost time,” he murmured.
“Trevor…” she trailed off. What could she say? He wasn’t wrong, even if she didn’t want to admit it.
“It’s okay, Abigail. I’m ready.” He let out a small laugh that promptly became a coughing fit.
She helped him take a sip of water from a cup on his nightstand. When he calmed down, his eyes returned to her.
“I mean, I’ll never be ready to leave you, but we both know this is inevitable, and I’m tired of fighting. Of hurting. And of hurting you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the slight shake of his head stopped her.
“Abigail, I’m the luckiest man in the world for having the
time with you that I did. I regret so many things, but I can die a happy man knowing I loved you. That you loved me in return. I need to know you’ll be okay. That you’ll go on. I can’t stand the thought of you spending your life grieving. Promise me, Abigail.”
She nodded, but he didn’t buy it. He knew she was only telling him what he wanted to hear. That was his Abigail. Which is why he had to insist.
“Promise me you’ll still smile. Promise me you’ll still laugh. Promise me you’ll still live, Abigail. Live for you. Live for me. Live for the both of us.”
She hesitated, and that’s when he used the trump card. He knew that it was unfair—probably cruel, even—but he had no other choice.
“Promise me, sweetheart. Because, if I have to die without the reassurance that you’ll continue to be the beautiful, vibrant, full-of-life woman I fell in love with, then I can’t die a happy man. I need this. Please. Promise me.”
Their eyes were locked in on each other, and they held their gazes for long, excruciatingly silent moments before Abigail once again leaned forward to kiss him. Her pale-blue irises met his, and she prayed that her strength would hold, even when all she wanted was to curl up against him and sob. He was strong for her. She could do the same in return. So, with a shaky smile, she agreed.
“I promise, Trevor. I’ll still smile. I’ll still laugh. I’ll still live. If not for myself, I’ll do it for you. But I will do it knowing I was the luckiest woman in existence for having loved you. And I will continue to love you for all my days. Time. Death. Nothing will ever change that. I lost you once before, and we found our way back to each other. I believe, with every beat of my heart, that we can do the same again.”
A small smile crossed Trevor’s lips. Satisfied, he laid his head back on the pillow, his eyes drooping closed with sleepiness.
Without another word, Abigail had curled up against his chest, listening to the sounds of his ragged breath. Both of them left silently wondering if she’d be able to keep the promise; both of them knowing they’d find out all too soon.
The memory burned like a raging, unbeatable inferno in her mind. She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d made that promise to Trevor, and she intended to keep it. Starting now.
After she’d looked around their marital bedroom, her gaze landed on the book on her husband’s nightstand. Before his passing, Trevor had been rereading his favorite classic, The Great Gatsby.
“One last time before I go,” he’d joked, not knowing any other way to deal with his illness than with humor.
She smiled, remembering when they’d met in college. She’d been sitting in the grass near the courtyard at school, leaning up against a tree, reading A Separate Peace, when he’d sat right next to her, wooing her entirely by tossing out a line from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s most famous work. To many, it might have sounded like a pickup line, but to Trevor, it had been the truth. He wasn’t in love with her—he’d never even met her. But he’d definitely experienced a tender curiosity when it had come to the beautiful blonde reading his second favorite American classic.
And, on Abigail, it’d worked. She’d been utterly charmed.
As their romance blossomed, he’d liked to compare himself to the titular character, while Abigail knew he was more like the handsome, sweet Nick Carraway. Well, at least he’d eventually become so once he’d matured.
Shaking her head so as not to let unhappy memories seep in, she stretched across the bed to pick the book up, knowing exactly where they’d left off. When she opened it, she realized her usual bookmark was gone, and an envelope was in its place. Her heartbeat quickened and she held her breath as Trevor’s handwriting stared back at her.
Little Bird.
The reminder of his nickname sent a tear spilling onto her cheek. How had she missed this before? How long had the letter been there, waiting for her to find it? What could it possibly say?
With trembling fingers, she retrieved the piece of paper that was tenderly tucked inside. She smiled tearfully as she unfolded the page. She should’ve known that Trevor would have wanted to have the last word. Her head tilted back and she looked to the ceiling, sending her dearest thoughts to her husband, hoping, praying, wishing that, somewhere in the heavens, he could hear her.
After a few moments of reflection on their happy times together, she redirected her attention to the letter. She wasn’t sure if she could read those words, but Abigail knew she had to. It was obviously what Trevor wanted. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest as her gaze rested on the top of the page.
My beautiful Abigail,
As much as I hate writing this, I hate that you’re reading it. A goodbye letter? How cliché, right? But the thought of not leaving you one was even more unbearable, so here I am. the incomparable Trevor Sullivan has left the world with a cliché. I hope you don’t hold it against me.
First and foremost, I love you, Abigail. Death will not change that. Nothing could ever change that. From the moment I saw you to the moment I close my eyes for the last time, know that I have always only ever loved you. You’re the woman my heart was made to love, and I will forever be in your debt for loving me back. Whatever I did in a past life to deserve you, I hope I continue to do so. Because our love will stand the test of time. In this life, and in every other, you’re my destiny. I know that now more than ever, and that’s why, while I’m aware our time together is limited on this Earth, I have faith that we’ll be together again one day soon.
When I was a selfish man, I almost lost you. Hell, for a while, I did lose you. The stubborn part of me let you go even though I knew I was making the biggest mistake of my life. I watched you walk away, and instead of chasing you, I was a coward and lost so much precious time with the love of my life. Our time apart did nothing but show me how much I needed you, how much I wanted you, and how life without you was dull. Devoid of any happiness. It wasn’t a life worth living, and I couldn’t go on with my heart missing.
Life, however, brought you back to me, and when it did, I vowed I’d spend the rest of mine cherishing you. I’d win you back and hold on so tightly, never letting you get away again. I’d have followed you to the ends of the Earth if I’d had to. Where you went, I went, and vice versa. That never changed.
Until now. As much as I want to be with you for every second of every day, I’m going to a place that isn’t quite ready for you yet. Tempting as it may be, I pray you don’t follow for a very long time. It’ll be hard, sweetheart, but remember your promise. Continue to smile. Continue to laugh. Continue to live your life for the both of us. For the both of you. Raise our son to be a better man than I was. Remind him of how much I love him; always remember how much I love you.
When you’re lost and lonely, look at our son and see that the best parts of me are still here. You may not be able to see me, but I will be with you. Always.
Loving you has been the greatest endeavor of my life. I leave this world a blessed, fulfilled, happy man. I love you, Abby, and I can’t wait for the day when you’re in my arms again.
Until then… I’ll be waiting.
Yours,
Trevor
An endless stream of tears flowed down her cheeks as she read his words repeatedly. When her reserves were empty, she set the page aside and wiped the moisture from her face, holding her hand out to stare at her wedding band in melancholy reflection.
Trevor was right. Even though she didn’t want to most days, she knew she still had so much to live for, even if half of her heart was now empty. The other half was still so incredibly full.
The sound of little feet pitter-pattering down the hall was the reminder she needed. She forced a smile to her lips when their son, the spitting image of his father, burst into the room and jumped on the bed. His innocence was like a barrier to the grief death caused. One day, he’d fully understand and miss his father, but for now, his chubby smiles and cuddling hugs were the balms to her grieving soul.
Yes, she could keep her promise to Trevor.
Bec
ause, while she no longer had him, she had his son. She had his memories. She had his words.
It wouldn’t quite be enough, but that was okay. Nothing ever would.
The End
The air around us was silent save for the crickets chirping off in the distance. The cool Cincinnati breeze nipped at my skin while I waited for his reaction. When I’d started writing this novel, it had been an ode to my past love. My past life. But then it’d taken on a life of its own and become so much more. Which had made it that much more poignant. That much harder to fathom the one word that’d been haunting me for years.
Goodbye.
At long last, he turned to the final page and sucked in a breath. My stomach twisted in knots because he was about to read the end. And I didn’t know how he’d interpret it. Half scared he’d tell me that I’d lost my mind and no one would ever want to read this story, especially with that ending.
He didn’t make me wait long. As his head slowly rose, I was taken aback at the tears shining in his usually cheerful eyes. This man, who had always been like a second father to me, had been reduced to tears by my words. My words. Words we both knew for whom they were meant. And, instead of calling me a fool or attempting to kill me, he watched me with tearful appreciation, switching between nodding and shaking his head as if trying to process it all.
I didn’t know how to react, so I simply stared at him, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
He closed the manuscript and set it on the table in front of us before taking a long swig from his whiskey glass. I followed suit and enjoyed the smoky burn that did little to soothe my nerves.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his eyes locking in on mine. “Tucker. You did it. You fucking did it,” he whispered, seemingly unashamed of his emotional display.
I nodded, the same emotion welling up inside me when I remembered the ending of my first novel. So many love stories begin with the girl who got away. Mine wasn’t any different. Not only in my novel, but in real life as well. Ava Banks was, and always would be, that girl for me. But, instead of slipping through my fingers, she’d made the conscious decision to leave. And, like most dumbass men, I’d let her. Hell, I’d pushed her away. I’d regretted it ever since.
