He was filling the sink and shot me a smirk over his shoulder. “Does she have a dish towel?”
I nodded before standing and scooting over to the drawer next to the stove. I pulled out a yellow and blue floral towel. “Here you go.”
He took it before turning and taking a step toward me. His sea green eyes were as soft as his voice. “Thank you. If I wash, will you dry?”
I nodded. Come on Fern, spit out some words, dammit!
I followed him back to the sink, and he handed the towel back to me. His hand grazed mine, sending a tingle down my torso. As the bubbles grew in the sink, he scrubbed a plate and handed it over.
“Thank you for coming downstairs.” His eyes moved over to me. “I debated on wearing a nut cup but decided to brave it out.”
It was a smile I hadn’t felt for a while. “Ha ha.”
We went from washing plates to pans. “I wanted to come here sooner, but then you blocked my number. It seemed the writing was on the wall.”
I dried and put a pan in the drawer under the stove. “Why are you here?”
“Since you drove away, nothing has been right.” He switched off the water and turned to me. “What you heard Ed say, about Amy, was all wrong. He was wrong.”
There was a squeeze in my chest at her name rolling off his tongue. It made her real although she wasn’t.
“Can we sit?”
I turned, and he followed me to the table where we sat. I pointed to the bottle of wine. “Do I need this?”
His smile warmed me like hot coco. “Maybe.”
I filled my mom’s glass.
“Amy and I met in high school, dated through college, and got married the summer after graduation. She was an amazing person.”
A horn blew in my head, and I took a long drink.
“Did she have a butterfly tattoo identical to yours in the same place? Yes. Did a truck hit her car and run her off a bridge and into a river during an ice storm? Yes. Did I have anything to do with either? No.”
My heart sputtered at his words. The back of my eyes burned, remembering being trapped and alone in my car while my mind circled around what the last moments of Amy’s life were, and sadness washed over me.
His voice was soft as he leaned on the table. “That was the something I wanted to talk to you about at the cabin that night, but you stopped me.”
“I remember.” My voice cracked.
He leaned closer. “If I wasn’t playing hockey, I was blaming myself for her death. I was supposed to go with her that day, but I was running late. If I’d been in the car, maybe I could’ve gotten her out.” He inhaled and paused. “Why didn’t I tell her not to move, and I’d take her is the question that has been playing on a loop for three years.”
I reached over and rested my hand on his. “Gabe?—”
“I had no idea I could go to such a dark place, and the guilt I had was eating me alive. My friends and your brother are the sole reason I’m still here because I was ready to check out.”
Tears pooled in my eyes.
“It’s a miracle I’m still on the team as I medicated myself with liquor in order to get through the days. And the nights and nightmares were endless.”
My vision blurred, and I grabbed a napkin and dabbed eyes.
“I’ve been a messed-up son of a bitch for years. I’m no good for anyone, and I decided I could never let myself feel that loss again because I couldn’t survive it.” He took a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair. “I’ve been with many women but have had no relationships. I’ve been honest, making it clear to them that I wanted nothing, would give nothing, and that was how it was. I’ve been on a self-destructive path leading me somewhere I’d never come back from.”
His voice cracked as he ran his hand over his eyes. It took everything in me not to climb onto his lap, pull him close, and tell him how sorry I was he ever had to go through that.
“But then I met you. Totally different from anyone, and for the first time in years, I felt light. Everything about you is joy, and you made me think more was possible.”
