I follow Gabriel’s lead into the living room. A shiny black grand piano sits in one corner, its top covered by framed photos. Corinne hands out lemon meringue pie, and after I’ve eaten half I make my way across the room to look through the pictures.
“Do you see that one in the center?” Doug’s voice booms proudly.
There, larger than the others, is a photo of Gabriel and Doug in their uniforms. Doug’s arm is slung around Gabriel’s shoulders. “That was right after Gabriel became a probie.”
I turn back to the three Woodruffs, all still seated. “Probie?”
“Probationary firefighter,” Gabriel clarifies.
“Gotcha.” I nod. We finish dessert, and I excuse myself to the restroom. Corinne points down a hallway, telling me the closer bathroom is in the middle of a repair.
The hallway is lined on either side with school photos. One in particular has a not-so-great haircut, so I stop and get a closer look, just so I can tease Gabriel later. But it’s not Gabriel, so it must be the brother. Nash. I look to the next photo. Also not Gabriel. Down the hall I go, peering at each picture and not seeing Gabriel.
I don’t want to judge other people’s grief, but this seems odd. Imbalanced. There aren’t any pictures of Gabriel except one, near the end of the hall, next to the bathroom door. He and Nash smile at the camera. Nash, presumably at high school graduation, wears a special sash and honor cords around his neck, arm laid over Gabriel’s shoulders.
I move on into the bathroom, trying to shake off the discomfort I’m feeling. When I rejoin the group in the living room, Gabriel gives me a long look. I take a seat beside him while Corinne talks about whether she’ll have time to mulch the flower beds this weekend.
“Did you see the shrine?” Gabriel murmurs in my ear.
“It’d be hard to miss,” I whisper, pretending to adjust the strap on my sandal.
Later, when we’ve said our goodbyes and we’re driving down the street, Gabriel reaches over the center console and winds his fingers through mine. We come to a stop at a red light, and he tugs my hand, pulling my attention to him.
He looks vulnerable in the red glow of the stoplight. After that experience, I’m not sure what to say to him. There’s a lot more to Gabriel’s relationship with his parents than I would have guessed.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I force my voice into a tone that conveys I don’t know what he’s talking about. “For what?”
He gives me a long look. “You know what for.”
“Your mom?” I thumb behind myself. “She just wants to make sure I’m the right person for you. I’m not offended.”
“I don’t just mean her questions.” Gabriel’s gaze softens. “Every time something good happens to me, such as bringing a girl like you home, I can see them thinking about Nash. About how he’ll never do whatever it is I’m doing.” His shoulders dip. “They wish it had been me.”
“No,” I say immediately. “That’s not true.” Parents don’t do that, right? Because that would be awful.
The light turns green and Gabriel lets off the brake. I wish we weren’t driving. I want to crawl into his lap, to melt into him and find every one of these destructive thoughts and demolish them.
Gabriel stares at the road, his jaw set. “Honestly, I don’t blame them. Nash was the best person. Outgoing, funny, confident. He had a million friends. Everyone loved him.” He runs his thumb over his brow. “He was an all-around good guy. The kind of person you knew was going to do great things.”
He says it like only Nash was capable of being great, and if Nash isn’t here, the greatness can’t happen. “Nash may have been those things, but so are you.” Reaching over, I rest a hand on his thigh. “You could’ve been describing yourself just now.”
His gaze flicks over to mine, then back to the road. “Do you ever feel like you’re watching yourself live life? Like you’re standing on the outside and looking in?”
“That’s how I felt after my mom died. I’ve always loved to read, so I pictured myself as the main character of a book, and I would narrate as I went through my days. Each day was a blank page and a pen hovered above the page, filling it in as the day passed.” I’ve never told anybody that, not even Camryn.
“You don’t talk about your mom much.” His thumb taps the steering wheel. “Why is that?”
Before I answer, I spend a moment picturing her collarbone-length dirty blonde hair, the way she would bend over me and tickle my midsection. “Sometimes I feel confused when I remember her. I was young, so I only have a handful of memories. After she died, I had to help raise Camryn. My dad disappeared, too, but in a different way. He went into himself and stayed there for a long time. I filled my mom’s empty role, and it’s hard to process someone’s death when you’re filling their shoes.”
Gabriel’s lips twist into a sad, wistful smile. “Sounds like our parents did a number on us.”
“All parents do, in one way or another. Nobody escapes childhood unscathed. Or life, for that matter.”
Gabriel takes my hand as we drive down his street. “You’re wise. It’s hard to believe you’re only twenty-three.”
“Old soul.” I shrug. “And all that research on longevity in marriage. It opened my eyes to the complexities of relationships.”
