“In fairness, she was pretty worked up, and she apologized later. Profusely, while begging me not to take her outburst out on Lennon.”
“You won’t.”
He nodded. “I didn’t. I won’t. Those CATS gave me the kick in the pants I needed to see things clearly. They are terrifyingly efficient and empathetic.” He clasped my hand, and I luxuriated in the warmth of his palms. “I don’t want to pressure you, but I do hope you’ll consider being my wife. Actually, I’d much prefer you become my wife. And I’d be happy to issue a press release and shout it to the rafters. I want you with me everywhere. Be my partner. You made me a better person.”
“I…” My brain couldn’t withstand this level of emotion. He was destroying me in the most romantic of ways, and I loved him all the more for it. “I just don’t understand. What changed? Why this now when you’ve been so careful and cautious for pretty much our entire relationship?” I thought for a moment. “Except in Sweden. Something was different there.”
Chapter 39
Gunnar
“I was different there because that’s a special place for me,” I explained. “Because of Karl.”
I didn’t want to do this now, but Zaila needed to understand. “As I told you, Karl was murdered. And it was my fault.” The words ached as they came out of my throat, and they landed like tiny knives, driving into my skin, chest, heart. “My parents’ deaths… Those were because of me, too. So, you see, I…well, I believed I couldn’t keep you, not if I wanted you to actually live.”
I met her gaze, and her eyes were soft. “How could Karl’s death possibly be your fault?”
Guilt and shame roiled in my gut. “I mentioned Karl’s partner, a man, to his coach, Leon Johanson.”
Zaila’s lips formed a perfect O as understanding hit.
“This was nearly thirty years ago—beliefs were different. It was totally cool for Karl to be raising his younger brother and living with a male friend, who helped with the responsibilities, but it was not okay for Karl to be in a relationship with that male friend.”
“And they weren’t understanding. Not in the locker room,” she said.
I bowed my head. “They weren’t. They didn’t want a…a…”
“I get the idea,” Zaila said, her tone dry.
“Leon didn’t want a gay man on their team, so he told Lars, his enforcer, about Karl’s lover. It didn’t matter that he was the lead scorer, that he could bench-press more than most of them. Once they knew, all they could see was his sexual orientation. He was no longer a person.” The horror of that still grabbed me by the throat. I clenched my hands into fists.
“The last thing Karl told me was a stupid joke about a bluebird. I snorted—didn’t even laugh—because I was pissed at him and Johan for not letting me go to a party. I went anyway… Well, I got there, hung out for a bit and ran my mouth to Leon and Lars about how Karl wasn’t fair, considering he was at a party as well. Their faces changed as I spoke, and I just got this bad feeling… So a little while later, I left.”
“Lars showed up at the bar that night—the one I’d told Leon Karl liked to go to.” I swallowed. “I saw the end of it, when Karl was so beaten and bloody. He…he’d protected Johan, made sure Johan got out of the club. Lars didn’t like that.” I met her troubled gaze. “If I’d just said nothing to Leon?—”
Zaila scoffed. “That’s like me saying if I’d been a better baby, cried less, my birth mother wouldn’t have given me up, and I wouldn’t have a hole in my heart that believes, even now, no matter what I tell myself, that the people I love, who I need, leave.”
I offered a flat smile. “Well, you were an infant. I was an eighteen year old.”
“Who trusted the wrong person. Your brother’s teammate, and, I dare say, a supposed friend.”
I nodded. “He and the other four players who took turns holding and beating Karl spent fifteen years in prison, but it didn’t feel like enough. I mean, Karl’s gone forever. They get to move on with their lives.” My voice cracked as I sought to control the emotions blasting through me. This was why I never spoke of Karl; the grief still felt fresh.
Zaila leaned forward with a faint wince, telling me her abdomen ached. Before I could react, her arms were around me. Her head rested on my shoulder, her nose in the crook of my neck. “That’s a terrible burden, and I’m so sorry you carry the weight of Karl’s death.”
She didn’t tell me I was wrong again, didn’t say my dear brother was in a better place. She just held me as I shook, the emotions seeping from my muscles.
“I’m better,” I said after a while, rubbing her back. “Thank you.”
“This is what you did for me,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. She shifted back on the bed as she stared, her expression awestruck. “You comforted me through the worst of my grief, and I didn’t see that.” She whispered the last words. “Because I was so focused on my fears.” Her eyes widened, and she swallowed. “Gunnar…”
I took her hand. “Do you remember what I told you back when we started being us? I told you wild horses couldn’t drag me away. I meant it, Zaila Monroe.”
“My middle name is Alice,” she said. “It’s my mother’s middle name—something we share.”
“I love that,” I said, smiling. “Zaila Alice Monroe, I adore you. Completely. Still, I lost my way somewhere. When you pulled away, when the demands of reality intruded and we were no longer safe in our bubble, I let doubt take hold of me.” I kissed her knuckles. “That’s on me. I failed you—failed myself. I let other people’s comments, their opinions, my desire to keep things neat and orderly, matter more than they should.” I smoothed her hair back before I cupped her soft cheek. “I’ll always love you, Rookie.”
“I love you, too, Gunnar. I…I’m sorry I ran away.”
