by Pamela Clare
Yes it meant a lot to her and he knew it, but he also knew why she wasn’t going to say it. She was already having trouble remembering why she shouldn’t just step into those strong arms and hide for a while, let him chase the worst of this stark anguish and guilt away. He was making it near impossible for her to stay detached from him. She cleared her throat, glanced away to the neatly arranged stacks of cream-ware dishes nestled in the glass-front cabinets above the L-shaped counter. “God, I’m wiped. I need to go to bed.”
“Sure, go ahead.” He made no move to leave.
Not liking what that meant, she tried a different tack. “I won’t be in to work tomorrow, and maybe not for the rest of the week, so I’m not sure when I’ll talk to you again.” Despite the dismissal she meant it as, the thought of not seeing him filled her with a terrible hollowness.
Still calm, he raised one auburn eyebrow in defiance. “You’re not staying here by yourself tonight.”
She should have expected this. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not, and it pisses me off that you’d even pull that shit with me.” He dragged a hand over his skull trim in exasperation, giving her an eyeful of bulging biceps. “Look, whatever shit that’s gone down between us in the past, this supersedes all of it. I don’t want you to be alone right now, so I’m staying. End of story.”
She shook her head, feeling her control slip. “Gage, I can’t handle this right now,” she blurted, the hot pressure of tears flooding her throat. “I can’t…”
With a low curse he closed the distance between them, ignoring her feeble protests as he gathered her up in his arms. She should have pushed away, said something nasty to make him leave but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It would have made her feel even worse and he didn’t deserve it. Her body and heart didn’t care that her brain was screaming at her that she was an idiot. They craved him, only him, and weren’t letting her walk away.
Instead she wound her arms around his sturdy neck and buried her nose in the center of his wide chest, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. He was right; in spite of all the damage she’d done to their relationship in the past, Danny’s suicide had turned her world upside down. She needed Gage and didn’t want him to go, not after all these lonely months spent aching for the chance to feel this again.
Those warm, strong hands stroked up and down her shuddering back as he crooned reassurances into the hair at her temple. She squeezed her eyes shut, throat constricting as she thought of how many nights she’d lain awake yearning for the feel of his body up against hers like this.
“I’m here for you, no matter what,” he was saying softly, his warm breath brushing over her damp cheek. “I swear I’m not gonna push you for anything else, okay? Just let me stay.”
Unable to speak, afraid that she’d blurt out her feelings for him, that she’d made a horrible mistake by walking away from him all those months ago, she nodded.
“Come on.” He gently eased her away and steered her into her bedroom. Leaving her only for a moment to turn back the quilt on her queen-size four poster bed, he turned back and held out a hand. “Strip down to your undies and get in.”
The idea of stripping down to anything in front of him probably wasn’t the best idea but she was too tired to care and was just grateful he was staying. Unbuttoning her blouse and skirt, she peeled them off and flung them over a chair in the corner to deal with in the morning. She was already dreading waking up and facing what the day would bring.
Acutely aware of the way Gage’s gaze swept over her body and lingered on the black lace bra and thong she wore, she averted her eyes and stepped past him to climb between the sheets he held back. Weariness engulfed her the moment she laid her head on the pillow. Gage pulled the covers up and tucked them beneath her chin, paused to stroke a comforting hand over her head, smoothing her hair back from her face.
“Get some sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll be here when you wake up and help you with everything.”
She nodded, was about to say something else when he straightened and stepped back. Something akin to panic lit up in her chest. Without thinking she shot out a hand and grabbed his thick wrist. He stopped, peered down at her questioningly. Claire struggled past the uncertainty and whispered, “Stay with me?”
The set of his shoulders eased and she thought she saw a flash of tenderness in his eyes. “Sure. Scoot over.”
Not giving herself time to question her actions, Claire turned onto her side and moved to the far right side of the bed. A puff of cool air hit her skin as the covers lifted. The mattress dipped a moment later and then Gage’s warmth settled against her back and hips. He tucked her into the curve of his much taller body and wrapped a protective arm around her waist.
“Thanks,” she whispered hesitantly into the silence, aware of every single inch of contact and the low voltage hum running through her nerve endings.
The ghost of a kiss caressed the top of her head. “Shhh. Just go to sleep.”
With a weary sigh she snuggled deeper into his embrace and let herself drift until the blackness of sleep overcame her.
Chapter Six
Claire rolled over and opened her eyes the next morning, for a moment confused by the rumpled state of the other side of the bed. Then it hit her all over again. Grief and shock that Danny was gone, the reality that it was really happening. She curled into a ball and focused on taking slow, deep breaths until the worst of the pain eased enough to allow her lungs to expand.
A clinking sound came from the kitchen. She burrowed deeper beneath her quilt and blinked back the sheen of tears, placing her hand on the indent Gage’s head had left in the other pillow. Twice she’d woken during the night and both times he’d tucked her back against his body without a word and stroked her hair until she fell asleep again.
How was she supposed to keep her distance from him now? During their entire relationship she’d never seen this gentle caretaker side of him. With his daughter, sure, but that was different. With Claire he’d always been strong and take-charge, had always lit her body up with effortless ease. Things between them had been intense and very physical, right from the start. The tenderness he’d shown her yesterday was devastating because she had no defense against it.
I don’t know if I can get through this, she thought miserably, scrubbing a hand over her face.
She needed a shower to clear her head before walking out of this room to face him and the long list of unhappy tasks she had to complete. It was already almost nine o’clock. Dragging herself out of bed, she started the shower and stepped under the hot spray, letting the water soothe some of the stiffness out of her neck and shoulders. The thought of everything she had to deal with today, including her mother’s impending arrival, made her long to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. But she didn’t cave under pressure, and she’d damn well face everything and anything she had to in order to see to Danny’s final arrangements properly.
After brushing her teeth, blow-drying her hair and putting some makeup on her puffy eyes, she dressed in jeans and a lightweight pink sweater before heading into the kitchen. Gage wasn’t there. She stopped in the doorway, her heart sinking. He’d up and left, just like that? She wasn’t sure if that offended or crushed her.
A full pot of Italian roast waited for her on the counter though, along with her favorite mug and the carton of half and half from the fridge, remembering how she took her coffee. She was so confused about everything she didn’t know what to think. Had he stayed last night out of a sense of compassion, or had it been obligation? Both those options sucked, and yet he’d given no indication that he wanted anything beyond the chance to help dull the worst of her grief. For that, she was grateful. And more disappointed than she could say.
Alone at the granite-topped island she sipped the coffee, a bittersweet rise of emotion filling her when she tasted how strong it was. Gage had always made it like that, no matter how much she’d argued with him about it. Funny how the li
ttle things triggered the most vivid memories after someone was gone.
The drone of a lawnmower started up outside, startling her. Claire turned toward the French doors that led out to the back deck and set her mug down just in time to see Gage stride by, pushing her mower. For a moment she was too stunned to move. The man was cutting her freaking lawn for her, a true old-fashioned Southern boy to his core.
Smiling a little, she carried her coffee over to the doors and watched him. Weak sunlight peeked through the sullen blanket of clouds. She admired the flex of muscle beneath the T-shirt stretched across his back and shoulders, the way his jeans hugged his ass and thighs. Gage at rest was a beautiful thing. In motion, he was a sight to behold.
She sighed, feeling her emotional walls crumble a bit more. Did she have the strength to deal with this on top of everything else? She’d been a complete and utter idiot to ever think she could live without this man. All her reasons for ending things with him, reasons she’d been convinced would mean certain doom for them if they’d stayed together, seemed so fucking stupid now. Especially today, when facing the reality of how quickly life could change.
Turning away from the doors she sat back at the island and with the sound of the mower as background music, pulled out a pen and paper to make a list of everything she needed to do. She was on the phone to a local funeral home when Gage came back inside from the front yard through the garage. She tensed, her instinctive reaction to ignore him, but what the hell good would that do at this point? It would only confirm she was the coward he’d accused her of being when she’d broken up with him.
Claire might be a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of them.
Pushing aside her fear of rejection, she made herself turn on the barstool and offer him a smile to show him how grateful she was for the lawn, and that he’d stayed. He paused in surprise for a beat, hand poised to grab his own mug from the cupboard. Then he smiled back and turned away to reach inside the cupboard.
Some of the anxiety in her gut eased and it seemed a little easier to breathe all of a sudden. She wrote notes about what the funeral home director said and answered the more difficult questions about Danny’s death. “He’s still at the hospital. I’ve spoken to my parents, and we’ve decided not to have a viewing. He wanted to be cremated, so…” God, maybe it wasn’t easier to breathe. She pressed a hand to her stomach, took a shuddering breath. “We’d like that taken care of as soon as possible,” she finished in a rush.
“I understand,” the director said in a soothing tone. “All we need you to do is come in and sign the paperwork. We’ll handle everything else from there.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Once the call ended she set the phone down on the island and let out a long exhale. Gage chose a stool across from her and slid onto it.
“That the funeral home?” he asked, those endlessly blue eyes delving into hers. Assessing, measuring.
She nodded, wanting to show him her inner strength. “They need me to sign the paperwork to get everything in motion. I told him I’d head over right now.”
“I’ll drive you,” he said, already pushing to his feet, mug in hand. “Just let me grab a quick shower.”
“Gage.”
He stopped and looked down at her, his expression inscrutable even though she knew he expected her to argue.
“Thank you,” she said instead. “For last night, for the lawn and everything else.”
The surprise evaporated, replaced by a spark of annoyance burning in his eyes. “Quit thanking me for every little thing. It’s startin’ to piss me off.”
She blinked, taken aback by the unexpected response. “Okay. Just wanted you to know I appreciate what you’ve done.”
“Yeah, got it. Give me five minutes.” He stalked from the kitchen, leaving her wondering what invisible land mine she’d accidentally triggered. Blowing out a breath, she waited until he came back downstairs then grabbed her purse and followed him out to his SUV.
Despite the lingering strain between them, Gage drove her to the funeral home and offered to come in with her. She politely turned him down, needing to do this on her own without an audience, even him. When she came back to the truck an hour later she was on the verge of tears. In a few hours the funeral home would take Danny from the hospital morgue and bring him back here to be placed in an oven for cremation. Her hand shook when she reached for the door handle, a low grade nausea churning in her stomach.
Gage reached over and popped the door open for her, his other hand holding his phone to his ear as he met Claire’s eyes and spoke to whoever was on the other end. “Hang on a sec, baby girl.”
Claire knew from that endearment that he was talking to Janelle. He sat upright as she climbed in and shut the door, that perceptive gaze sweeping over her face, not missing the tears blurring her vision.
“I gotta go, sweetheart. Yeah, she’s back now, but it’s not a great time for you to talk to her. Maybe later, okay?” He paused, listening to whatever Janelle was saying. “I’ll tell her. Love you too. Bye.” He set the phone down into the tray in the center console between them and met her gaze. “That was Janelle. I told her about Danny. She said to tell you she’s sorry and to give you a big hug. She’s gonna say a special prayer for him and your family at church tomorrow.”
For some reason, that snapped the final threads holding together what was left of her frayed control. Claire covered her face with her hands and shuddered with the force of the sob locked in her throat. It didn’t make any sense, but receiving that message of sympathy from a teenager was irrefutable evidence that Danny was gone forever.
Gage cursed softly and unbuckled his seat belt. “Ah hell, I’m sorry. C’mere.”
She shook her head and turned toward the door to hide, hating that he was seeing her lose it like this yet again. He ignored her, leaning across the center console to draw her into a hug made even more awkward by the positioning. The moment her cheek touched his shirt she stopped resisting and leaned against him, thankful for the opportunity to bury her face into his chest. It took a while for her to regain her composure enough to pull away and wipe at her wet face.
“I got mascara on your shirt,” she whispered unevenly, automatically reaching out to rub at the marks she’d left.
Gage gently pushed her hands away. “I don’t give a fuck about my shirt,” he told her, taking her chin in one hand to tip her face up. “Talk to me. What do you want to do now?”
She wasn’t sure. Any denial phase she’d been experiencing was blown to hell at this point. Now she was starting to get mad. She welcomed it. “You know what? I’m pissed off.”
He released her chin abruptly and leaned back in his seat to blink at her.
She let out a watery laugh at the stunned look on his face. “Not at you. At Danny.” She shook her head, letting the anger roll through her. It felt good. Hell of a lot better than the hollow helplessness she’d woken up with. “He’s threatened us with this for such a long time, it was always hanging over our heads. He’d veer from being nasty and bitter to yelling and swearing at us when we tried to help, then all of a sudden drop off the radar and not talk to anyone for days while he holed up with his stupid fucking pills and cases of beer. We walked on eggshells around him forever to avoid pushing him over the edge, and for what? He went and did it anyhow.” She shook her head in frustration. “It was fucking selfish of him to take his life, and he knew it. God damn him for doing this.”
Gage didn’t say anything, but he seemed a bit taken aback by her rant.
“Seriously,” she went on, wanting him to validate her. “You went through multiple combat tours and other stuff, and I know you saw and did awful things. Every vet comes home with shit to deal with, I get that.” She could see examples of it right now, two of his soldiers’ names lost in combat inked into the designs on the backs of his forearms beneath the sprinkling of reddish hair there. Yet he’d found the will to deal with it all on his own, where Danny had not no matter how she or her father a
nd everyone involved with his case had pushed him.
She didn’t understand why her brother had to wind up a statistic. “You came through the other side and transitioned back into civilian life. It’s not like I blame him for being depressed and disillusioned, especially after his back injury, but I’m so fucking angry at him for quitting.” That was the crux of it. He’d given up and his last act on earth was to do the one thing guaranteed to hurt the people who loved him the most. His suffering was over, but theirs had just begun.
Gage was silent a moment, and when he finally spoke his voice was low and quiet. “He didn’t see any other way out, Claire. He didn’t have any more fight left in him.”
The matter-of-fact way he said it took the scorching edge off her temper as effectively as a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. Deflated, she closed her eyes and laid her head back on the seat with a sigh. “I know, but I’m still mad at him. Part of me wishes he was still here so I could shake him.” But Danny had probably known that. He’d made it very clear he knew what a disappointment and burden he’d become to her and their father.
She ran a hand over her face, stared through the windshield without really seeing anything. “I know I’m at least a little to blame in all this.”
“Don’t say that.”
“No, it’s true. I made no secret about what I thought of his behavior, especially toward the end. And you know what the worst part is? There were many days when I wished he’d do it. Just fucking do it and get it over with so the rest of us could move on with our lives.” She let out a bitter laugh, shook her head at herself in disgust. “Careful what you wish for, Claire. God, what kind of person thinks that about their own brother?”
“Stop beating yourself up. You went through your own hell with all this for the past two years. Everyone’s got their limit. You’re human, and that means you’re not perfect and never will be. None of us are.”
She turned her head to look at him, guilt an oily film coating her insides. “Do you think he knew I was thinking it?”
