“And what’s that?”
He didn’t answer at first. “Some of them didn’t get a fair fight. I cheated. I took them out. And then I survived. Why did I survive?” He closed his eyes. “Jane is only a kid. Nic’s baby isn’t even one yet. Amanda has no one to w-walk her down the aisle.”
She felt so awful for him. No way to help him through this. She had nothing but the truth.
“You listen to me, Gavin Donnigan. I don’t know about all that stuff you did. I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know. I know you.
“The man who makes me laugh. Made me smile when all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and die. You’re not the only who feels guilty. I used to think it should have been me who died. Aubrey was funnier, livelier, prettier. She was an artist. I work training people. How creative is that?” She gave a pained laugh and felt his fingers entwine with hers. “But that self-pity bullshit had to go. You and me, we’re survivors, that’s for sure. And we’re strong. And we get sad. And then we get up and go on the next day. We can help people. You do it every day.
“So many people have been worried about you. Your family. Me. The people at the gym. Even Swanson asked about you yesterday. And that’s not a burden, buddy. That’s a gift. You make people smile and laugh. Nic and Amanda know you’re special. Your friends knew it too.”
“No.”
“Yes.” She gave him a fierce kiss and watched his eyes open wide before he shut them, shutherout. “If they had survived, you’d be up in heaven or down in hell,” she teased, getting a faint twitch out of his lips, “and you’d be okay with them living on. Why? Because they were good people, and you’re some big jerk? You’re just a man with a guilty conscience. Just because your friends didn’t do what you did during wartime doesn’t mean they never did anything bad in their lives. Stuff they feel guilty for. No one is perfect. Everyone has regrets.” She paused. “You know what mine is?”
He opened his eyes. “Me?”
“Yes.” She watched him shut his eyes, as if he’d been waiting to hear her reject him. “Not telling you I loved you sooner… That’s my regret. It was killing me. I had that love balled up inside me for a while. And then I told you in the tackiest way ever. After sex in a hotel conference room, for God’s sake. That will haunt me forever.”
He didn’t say anything, but he pulled her down into his arms. And he held her there, her head tucked against his chest as they lay on the cold, hard floor.
He had to be uncomfortable. She was. But she didn’t move until his breathing evened out. Then she heard a car pull up in front of her house.
She left Gavin lying on the floor, covered in a blanket, and hurried to let Ava and Landon in. She put a finger to her lips and waved them inside.
They took a few steps in, where they could see Gavin sleeping on the floor, tear tracks evident on his cheeks.
“Aw, Bro. Damn.” Landon looked so sad.
“He’ll be okay.” Ava stroked his arm. “He’s got us, and Zoe.”
“Yeah. Come here.” Zoe drew them with her into the kitchen and whispered what had happened.
“He wasn’t ready,” Ava murmured.
“Shit.” Landon kept looking back in to check on his brother.
“Why don’t you go sit with him?” Ava said kindly.
He left them.
Zoe started crying. “I’m sorry. But Ava, it was so awful. He’s grieving so hard. I felt like my heart was breaking while he cried. And it’s just…I love him so much. I felt helpless.”
Ava enfolded her in a hug she needed, until Zoe stopped her useless tears. “Sorry.”
“That’s it. We’re going to Costco in a few days, and I’m buying you a few dozen boxes of tissues.”
Zoe wiped her eyes. “Now you know what to get me for my birthday.”
Ava chuckled, then sobered. “He needed you. He wanted you enough not to let his guilt get in the way, and that’s saying something. Gavin fools everyone into thinking he’s fine because he laughs a lot, but that laughter hides a well of pain. I’m not his therapist, but I think Lee would agree he needed this. Badly.”
“Really?” Zoe felt a measure of hope.
“This, I think, will be his turning point. Where he can either learn to live with the guilt and forgive himself, or not. And nothing you or I or anyone else does can get him through this.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be here, waiting for him to get better.”
“You’d do that?”
