I watch the sunrise crest over the horizon, spilling faint pearly light across lush spring green grass. Leaning on the railing of the A-frame’s back deck, coffee cup in hand, I shift on my feet, breathe in the fragrance of the crushed rose petals and straggling evergreen boughs strewn across the deck’s wide varnished planks.
A beautiful wood arch still stands where it framed Willa and Ryder two days ago, home to those roses and evergreen boughs before the wind whipped them away. I smile, remembering it—my brothers and I standing behind Ryder, knuckling away tears. Rooney, Frankie, and my sisters behind Willa, doing the same.
It was a quiet ceremony, small and intimate. Mostly family, a few friends, including a special appearance from Tucker and Becks, Ryder’s college roommates, who I hadn’t seen in years and who were close with Willa, too.
Mom and Dad walked Willa down the aisle. Ryder and Willa recited their personalized vows. We ate Swedish fare by candlelight because Willa loves Mom’s family recipes, then danced on the deck until the lovebirds drove off in their trusty Subaru and the rest of us collapsed into our beds, happy and exhausted. Yesterday, we lounged around, played soccer and board games, then went on a long, springtime walk.
It was as close to perfect as it could get, but for that nagging ache in my heart that I did my best to ignore. Another wedding here. Another “happily ever after” that wasn’t mine.
I take a sip of coffee, gulping it even though I know it’s hot, that it will hurt. There’s a sharp, hot pain already knifing down my sternum. What difference will it make?
It’s been a month. A month since Gavin and I were as intimate in that shower as I felt two people could be, since we sat outside afterward and once again he pushed me away until I was at emotional arm’s length.
The way he touched me, brought me to orgasm, kissed me, the intimacy he gave me in letting me care for him, see him at his most vulnerable, keeps gnawing at my gut, twisting my heart into a knot. What do you feel for someone when you let them see you like that, touch and comfort and care for you? How do you push them away afterward, like he did?
In a way, I understand. I know his life is in limbo, his pain unimaginable. I know he’s all but allergic to feelings and even more terrified of feeling them.
But it hurts to be pushed away. It still really hurts.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
I glance over my shoulder at the sound of Willa’s voice and frown. I’m surprised to see her here, given she and Ryder aren’t staying at the A-frame. Their house isn’t far, so they’ve slept at their place, then showed up to visit during the day. It’s wildly early for her to have gotten up and driven this way. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
Feisty brown eyes, curly waves tangled up in a bun, she smiles. “Forgot my phone.”
“Ryder come with?”
She shakes her head. “Nah. He’s still sleeping. I was going to drive back home now, but then I got a whiff of freshly brewed coffee.” Lifting a small mug, she says, “Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not.” I scooch a little, making room for her to lean on the deck, too.
We watch the sunrise in silence for a few minutes before she says, “So, how you doing?”
I shrug and force a smile. “Okay. You?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Perhaps I should rephrase. How are things with you and the gorgeous grump next door?”
Dammit. My brothers never keep their mouths shut. “You heard about that, huh?”
“I also have eyeballs. I watch your games on TV. I saw that last match you two played together. He was about to rip that fucker’s throat out for you, and deservedly so. Then the way he played afterward until he went down, pouring everything onto the field until you got the win…” She shrugs. “Pretty clear what’s going on.”
I turn and face her. “How so?”
She smiles softly, leaning her elbow on the deck, facing me, too. “Let’s just say, I have walked more than a mile in his shoes.”
While both Gavin and Willa are elite-level professional soccer players, I have a hunch that commonality isn’t what she’s referring to. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean I’d bet my favorite pair of cleats that after he laid everything on that pitch for you, he made your life miserable pretty much the moment you two were off it.”
I eye her warily. “Uhhh, yes. And you know this how?”
“You may not remember. You were kinda young and oblivious when Ryder and I were first working out what we were,” she says, glancing out at the land. “But I did not make things easy for him.”
I was in high school when they met in college, and Willa’s right, I was pretty oblivious, but not entirely out of the loop. “I remember you were going through a lot. Your mom had just passed.”
She nods, staring out at the sunrise. “Yeah. But it wasn’t just that. I didn’t grow up like you all did. Not many people do,” she says, throwing me a wry glance. “I was so scared. To love someone the way I loved Ryder. To be loved by him, by all of you. So fully, and unconditionally.”
I swallow, my heart aching, thinking of Gavin, how painful it seems for him to accept affection or care…any sort of loving relationship. I still know so little about his past, and I wish I knew more—his family, the years that formed him and led him to where he is now, to how and why he operates the way he does.
“I get Gavin. Like recognizes like,” she continues. “I’ve met him, too. Did you know that?”
I shake my head. “When?”
“He founded a support program for kids in state care all along the West Coast. Volunteer athletes receive training and go through a crapload of vetting. Come in at the same time, same days each week, and play sports. Give the kids encouragement, quality time, a sense of community and belonging while they’re dealing with so much uncertainty.”
I blink at her, stunned. “What?”
“Technically, I’m not supposed to tell. Professional athletes who are recruited to participate in advertisements, volunteer time for special events and fundraising, meet directly with Gavin. They asked me to film a commercial for it—”
“I’ve seen the commercials.” I shake my head, struggling to process this. “That’s his organization?”
She nods. “Anyway, when I agreed, I was made to sign an NDA that I wouldn’t disclose his relationship to it.”
“And so you’re telling me because…life’s boring, so why not get yourself sued?”
She smiles wide, dimples popping in her cheeks. “Because I’m not scared of him. Because I know you’ll protect his privacy. Because we emotionally constipated loners have to help each other out, and I have a hunch that next time Gavin Hayes comes knocking on your door, you’re going to be understandably wary that this cycle of him letting you close, then pushing you away is never going to end, and I want you to know there’s more to him than what you’ve seen, that if he works hard in therapy, if he has a partner who knows his struggles and his past, who understands he’s making his way but maybe progress won’t always be as fast or straightforward as either of you would like, he can choose you and stay with you and let you get close.” She lifts her left hand, which bears a sparkling diamond ring and matching wedding band on her fourth finger. “I’m proof.”
I stare at her, at a loss for words.
“You know,” she says, leaning against the deck again, sipping her coffee. “This was supposed to happen years ago.”
“What was?”
She gestures around us, the half-stripped wooden arch, rose petals and remnants of evergreens carpeting the deck. “This. The wedding.”
“Oh.” I scrub my neck. “That. Yeah.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ollie. You don’t have to act like you don’t know. Like we weren’t engaged for three years and it took me that long to work up the courage to go through with the wedding, not because I had a single doubt about the man I love more than my own life, but because I couldn’t figure out how to face that day without my mom.”
Her smile fades as she glances out at the woods around us, eyes darting up to the treetops. “Even though she’s been gone for years, it felt like a new grief when I realized I’d walk down that aisle without being on her arm, without her teasing me to make me laugh when I got nervous beforehand, without her nagging me to put curl cream in my hair so it wasn’t a frizz ball on my wedding day.”
She sighs heavily, tapping her ring against her coffee cup. “It was just…this raw, terrible loss, all over again. Then, once I felt like I’d gotten my bearings, wrapped my head around it enough to be able to set a date, I started worrying that my sadness, missing her, would ruin the happiness of the day, that I’d disappoint Ryder, the family. I kept waiting to finally feel okay enough to do it.”
“Did you?” I ask quietly.
She shakes her head. “No. The okay-ness never came. I just realized I’d been missing the whole fucking point.”