When it finally dawned on me that Brett was with me, and we were sitting on the side of a normally busy road, I caught his eye. Silently, I pleaded with him to tell me this was all a nightmare, to wake me up and pull me out of this hell. Instead, Brett stood, and then reached down, putting his arm under my knees and one behind my back—he lifted me to his chest.
“No!” I bawled, knowing if I left, it was over. If I left, there was no chance someone would come tell me there had been a mistake; there was no possibility someone would tell me he was breathing again even though his body was gone. “Brett, no, we can’t leave. Please! Please don’t take me.” The knot in my throat was so hard I couldn’t swallow, and I was having an even harder time talking.
“Annie, he’s not here anymore, sweetheart. We need to get you home.” His voice was soft and tender. He spoke slowly, but I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to hear Gray laugh at me for worrying so much, or call out my nickname, or just reassure me I’d overreacted, but it never came.
And it never would.
Brett held me, even as I struggled against him, he never set me down in the SUV. He kept me perched in his lap, as though if he released me, I’d unravel. Lissa drove Brett’s SUV, and I assumed Dan was behind us, but I didn’t know. I wanted to go home, to hide in my bed. I wanted to be near things that comforted me and not stuck in this car.
I collapsed in Brett’s arms on the couch. He held me all night long while we waited for the sun to come up. He never dosed off, and Dan and Lissa never left our side. Lissa sat in the chair across from me, tears gracing her face while I silently mourned. My connection with Gray was different from Brett and Dan’s, but there was a part of both of them in turmoil, too. But they didn’t try to fix anything—they just offered their physical presence, and Brett never took away his touch. It was the only thing that kept me grounded.
No part of me knew how to grieve Gray’s loss, or relieve myself of the guilt that I’d been the reason he’d died. I hadn’t stopped Brett from screaming at him, I’d cried instead of talking to him, and I hadn’t taken control of the situation before it got out of hand. At the very least, I could have given Gray the courtesy of a conversation and kept it from erupting into a nightmarish scene that left a terrible feeling surrounding a man I once cared for very deeply.
I couldn’t stop the tears. They seemed to just pour endlessly, and I didn’t have the energy nor the desire to fight them. Normally I hated crying, but this was the only emotion I could handle without screaming. Brett continued to hold me, his hand caressing the spot on my tummy that cradled our child. I assumed the baby was fine, nothing to indicate any differently, but I wondered whether it sensed my trauma.
Eventually, Dan and Lissa left. I wished they had closed on the house next door, but that wouldn’t happen for another couple of weeks. In the meantime, Dan stayed at Lissa’s house, and she lived a good distance away. She wanted to be home just like I had. I couldn’t expect them to stay forever, and honestly, some time alone would probably do me some good. I’d cried, but I hadn’t talked. For once in my life, I refused to internalize this and let the stress eat me alive inside. I would fight like hell to keep the guilt and grief from consuming me.
When I finally stirred from Brett’s lap to use the restroom, he’d offered to make coffee. I’d found him out on the back porch sitting stoically, staring out at nothing. Nature had delivered a beautiful day filled with white fluffy clouds and blue skies, not caring that I craved storm clouds and rain. What normally brought me comfort, today held sorrow.
I would have to face the reality that I couldn’t change the last twenty-four hours—there would be no mulligan.
Gray was never coming back.
Nothing anyone could say or do would ever change that.
Chapter Seventeen
Annie
Devastation didn’t begin to describe what consumed me at that moment, or maybe it did. Standing in the rain, I wasn’t aware of anything around me. It might have been the water or the fact my brain was overloaded and stopped functioning hours earlier. I knew he wasn’t there, but I couldn’t help myself. The guilt weighed heavily on my conscience as I traced the top of the family’s marker. My legs quivered as I lowered myself onto the ground, kneeling above his body with my hands pressed into the freshly turned earth.
Everyone else had either left or stepped away. Gray’s mom was nearby, as was Brett, but I’d ended up here alone to say goodbye. There were likely people watching, and those who thought it was inappropriate, but I laid down on my side, with my temple to the cool dirt below and let the tears slip away. From my face to the ground, they instantly disappeared, as though they were insignificant and meaningless. I wanted to believe if I laid there long enough, somehow, I could resurrect him. My tenure there could change the last three days and bring back a mother’s son, my ex-boyfriend, and countless people’s friend.
I’d failed him.
He hadn’t pulled the razor across his wrist, but he’d poured the alcohol down his throat. There was no way he hadn’t known what would transpire when he got on that Harley. But I hadn’t stopped him. I’d run off scared with my tail between my legs, even though Gray had never once given me a reason to believe he’d physically hurt me. I’d just wanted to be left alone. But maybe, if I hadn’t been so selfish, if I’d been willing to talk to him when he’d called, or even that night, the outcome would have been different.
As the rain picked up, the drops pelted my skin like needles, cold pain striking at my nerves. I hadn’t heard the footsteps approach but knew Brett had stayed near. When another car pulled out of the cemetery, Brett laid down on the ground beside me and pulled my mourning body to his. His hand rested firmly on my slightly swollen belly, a quiet reminder of what truly mattered. But the storm of emotions raging inside me matched the fury in the air. I sobbed, wrenching, heart-crushing moans into the chest of my husband for a man who tormented me for so long. Rolling into him, he held me tightly and allowed me to release the pain of the last few days.
When I’d shed the last tear I could possibly drop, he helped me from the position I was in, covered in wet dirt. But he didn’t clean me off or appear frustrated by my pain. He simply held one hand and cupped my cheek with the other and then pressed his forehead to mine. He pulled away with a kiss as Gray’s mom approached. She’d never gone far but given me time alone.
“I’ll wait for you in the car, Annie.”
I nodded and dropped his fingers at the last possible minute when he walked away. Brett was replaced by Deanne when she stepped up beside me. Her fingers were cold from the misty rain when she took my hand.
“Don’t blame yourself, sweet girl. He loved you dearly, but his problems were his own. I’d had countless conversations with him about the drinking. Gray knew better.”
She clutched my hand and patted my forearm with her other, comforting me, when her son was gone.
“I just don’t understand. Things weren’t that bad for him, were they? Maybe I just didn’t know because we’d lost touch so many years ago. I knew he was struggling after the divorce, but not like this.”
“There are so many things we will never understand. But Annie, the truth remains, he made a poor decision that night. Anything short of your leaving your husband wouldn’t have changed that. Gray was holding on to something he’d let go many years ago. Maybe he’s at peace now, because he was broken here.”
I stared at his family name on the stone in front of us—it was pristine in a yard full of dated rock. If I could pound my fists on his chest and scream at the top of my lungs, I’d tell him nothing was worth that. I was bombarded with memories of my time with him, some bad, but mostly good. It was funny how the mind erased the pain, and even in the not so great memories, the agony I never thought I’d escape then, was gone now. Or maybe it was replaced by this emotion which was so much stronger than the others.
My mind’s eyes flashed to our first encounter, seeing him on that forklift, then at my old apartment days
later. I heard his voice in my head calling me Bird Dog and my laughing about his silly responses to my never answered question.
A meager smile tugged at my lips. I turned my head to see signs of sadness on her face that mirrored my own. “What did that stupid tattoo mean?”
Her brow creased in contemplation.
“The Chinese symbol on his arm.”
Her laugh startled me. It broke through the rain and the gloom like a clap of thunder. “Oh, sweetie.” She huffed out a cackle as though the mere thought of it made her want to roll her eyes. “It didn’t mean a damn thing. The day he turned eighteen he insisted on getting a tattoo with his friends. He walked into the tattoo parlor and picked it off a wall. When I asked him what it stood for, he shrugged.”
She clearly had an affinity for the memory. The glimmer of a smile on her face brought a hint of one to my own.
“He was too embarrassed to go back and ask the guy who owned the shop what it meant. He never told you because he didn’t know himself.”
I wanted to be relieved by the light-hearted way she remembered things and the fact that not everything in life had significance. Regardless of how many times I’d asked, there never would have been an answer, because Gray didn’t have one.
Deanne was an amazing woman, and Gray had loved her more than anything in the world. They were undoubtedly close, and I knew she had to be hurting. But in her grief, she was celebrating his life.
I pulled her into a hug and told her “Thank you.” I didn’t know why her sharing that had meant so much when it was obviously so insignificant, but in some way, it started to heal a part of me that had been broken for far too long. The last little piece that showed I hadn’t known Gray the way I thought I did, and we all kept secrets. Nothing about us had been perfect in life, or in his death. Just like that tattoo, he’d made a choice, and I couldn’t have swayed him from it.
I walked to the car where Brett had been waiting for far too long. Safely tucked into the passenger seat, my husband took me home. He held my dirty hand, and I stared out the window as the landscape and buildings passed by. There was no need for words. He was here, faithfully—Brett never left my side. No matter how tough things had gotten, he’d loved me the way a man should love a woman.
Unconditionally.
Fiercely.
When we walked in the door, I went to our room to change out of the dirty clothes I had on and take a warm shower in an effort to escape the chill that had settled into my bones. When I got out, I stood before Brett in a towel, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed my ear to his heart. He kissed the top of my head, and I felt the warmth and love he always gave. I needed to get lost in him, to numb the pain and accept the comfort he was offering.
“Brett, can I wear one of your T-shirts?” He nodded slightly and moved to the dresser to grab one. I expected him to hand it to me, but instead, he took the towel from around me and let it fall to the floor and then helped me into the shirt. And I shimmied on a pair of panties.
“Do you want some shorts? I doubt they’ll stay up on you, but maybe boxers would work.” He got that I wanted to be close to him, even if it was just clothing.
Shaking my head, I answered, “I just want to sleep. Will you lie down with me?” His hand found mine and led me to the bed. As I crawled my way to my side, he divested himself of his clothing, except his boxers.
“Put your back to me, sweetheart,” he purred in my ear. His arm slunk under my neck while he scooted up behind me with my ass nestled in his crotch. He stirred behind me, but he made no move to do anything other than hold me. His hands traced circles on my belly as though he was already in love with the guppy swimming inside of me. Brett could always bring a smile to my face—just in the way he loved me. Content, I drifted off to sleep.
The sun coming through the curtains woke me gradually. The warmth surrounding me eased my spirit. It took me a few minutes to shake the fog and realize where I was and whose arms were wrapped around me in a secure embrace. Brett’s hand still had a safe hold on my belly while his other arm rested under my neck with his forearm draped across my chest fastening me to him. He must be awake, content to lie with me nestled in his grip. When he felt me shift, his lips came to my neck. It sent chills down my arms, and I didn’t resist snuggling closer to him. I wanted to lie here forever. Unfortunately, being pregnant, I couldn’t stay away from the bathroom long. I tried to break free, but he pulled me back.
“Where are you going?” His voice was husky and sultry all wrapped into one.
“Brett, I’m pregnant. I have to pee every fifteen minutes,” I pouted, causing him to laugh.
He let me up to take care of business, but it dawned on me that I had an OBGYN appointment today. Glancing at the clock as I made my way to the bathroom, I realized I had roughly an hour to get there. I called out from the bathroom, “I have a doctor’s appointment in an hour. I have to hurry, or I won’t make it.” I opened the door to see him pulling on his jeans and roughly running his fingers through his hair. I stopped to stare at my husband, wondering how the last few days had affected him and how his only concern had been me.
“I’ll take you. I told Dan I was taking today off. He and Lissa want to come by tonight. They have their final walk through in the house next door, and Lissa’s really worried about you.”
“You don’t have to do that, Brett. You don’t need to miss work for this.”
He stalked up to me, taking me firmly by the elbow. “I’m not missing work for this. I’m missing work for you. Now get dressed.”
“I don’t have anything that fits.” My words come out as a whimper as Brett walked to the closet, bringing me a pair of his sweat pants and a T-shirt. “I can’t wear that! I’ll look like a balloon!” I was only four months along, but I felt like a hippo.
His laughter was irritating me. “Baby, you’re absolutely stunning pregnant. It takes every ounce of self-control to keep my hands off you. Sweats or a ball gown won’t change that.”
Brett refused to give me coffee on our way out the door. “It’s not good for the baby. We can stop and get you decaf at Starbucks.” He was resolute, and every bit as protective as Dan was over Lissa. They both treated us like glass ornaments.
“Seriously, Brett? What the hell is the point in decaf? One cup of regular coffee isn’t going to hurt me. I’ve been drinking coffee every day, why the change of heart now?”
“Don’t cuss. The baby can hear you and can tell by your voice you’re agitated. Nothing’s changed. I didn’t like it then, I just decided to speak up now.”
“Oh, holy hell. I can’t take five months of this. Please don’t go über protective on me.”
“Just taking care of what’s mine.” He said the words as though they were the plain, simple truth, and not up for discussion.
“Brett!” I squawked.
“Calm down. I’m sure I’ll chill out by the time the baby gets here.” He winked at me, but I found little humor in his banter. I wasn’t sure what happened to men’s brains when women got pregnant, but I was quite sure there was a chemical alteration that took place rendering them overly protective.
The visit to the OBGYN was uneventful, and I think Brett was slightly disappointed at just how boring it actually was. When we left, he was miffed that “that was it.” I laughed not sure what he had expected, but I’d been to so many between Lissa’s and my own that I felt like a pro.
Chapter Eighteen
Brett
As much as I hated moving, myself or anyone else, I was grateful to have my best friend and his girlfriend relocating next door. The weeks since Gray’s death had been hard on all of us, especially Annie, and having her running back and forth from work to Lissa’s house and then home was too much. When she hit her second trimester, it was like she became narcoleptic. I worried she would fall asleep driving, but Lissa was even further along. I didn’t want either one of them running around without Dan or me, but telling two pregnant women they needed to stay put was a re
cipe for an argument.
Dan and I had been working a ton of overtime to cover Gray’s shifts while we looked for a replacement, so the move had come at a particularly difficult time, but I was afraid if we didn’t handle it the girls would take it upon themselves to do more than they should. Annie had been helping Lissa pack, but even that was difficult because neither of them could lift anything. I’d encouraged Annie to stay busy to help fight off the depression surrounding Gray, but that had only exacerbated the exhaustion.
She was doing much better than I’d expected. I anticipated a deep depression we would have to fight, but she’d grieved rationally. Whatever his mother had said to her standing at the gravesite had resonated with her. She’d spent time with her therapist, but the guilt I expected her to harbor only lingered a few days and a handful of counseling sessions. There were times that were worse than others, but for the most part, she was dealing.
What I hadn’t expected was the effect it would have on the DC as a whole. The majority of the employees had witnessed the scene at Hooters that night—some were empathetic, while others blamed me. I hadn’t been prepared for blame. I was dumbfounded anyone could believe it was my fault he’d chosen to drive drunk, down an interstate, without a helmet. But they had, and many had been quite vocal about it. Had Topher not stepped in, there could have been more problems than there were, but he was able to call off the firing squad. Gray’s shift loved him and had worked with him for years. While I didn’t care for him because of Annie, he was good at his job and a great leader for that team. Replacing him had been a difficult task.
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