Maybe she couldn’t figure out her password and never read the emails? The thought gave him a sliver of hope, but not much.
He walked in and spotted her immediately, sitting on the couch with her back to the door. Gertrude charged toward him in greeting, tail wagging, but he couldn’t even look at his beloved dog. All he could do was wait for Claire to turn so he could see her face.
That’s when he saw the laptop on the table.
He slowly made his way to her, the thump of his crutches on the hardwood echoing in the silent room.
She looked up when he sat beside her.
She lifted her lips in a small smile, but she wasn’t happy. Pink splotches covered her face and her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.
Somehow, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Something dark and anxious tightened and twisted deep inside him. He inhaled her scent, wondering if this would be his last chance to do so. He meant to be patient and let her speak first, but the words crawled up his throat. “You read them?”
She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. Her lips trembled.
His voice scratched and cracked. “You don’t feel the same.”
It wasn’t a question.
She propped an elbow on one knee and dropped her forehead into her palm. “No. I do.”
He leaned in, a tiny, foolish ray of hope peeking around the corner of his terrified heart. “What?”
“I do feel the same,” she said, sniffling. “But that’s the problem. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Had she just admitted she loved him, too? In such a morose, troubled way? Elation and trepidation hit him in a one-two punch.
Graham reached out to take her free hand, skin prickling when he touched her. “Is that such a bad thing? I know there are things we were both afraid of, but that was before. You’ve helped me start working through my issues without even knowing. Maybe I can help you, and we can come at yours together. Isn’t love supposed to be able to overcome all fears? Or something?”
He was so bad at this.
She yanked her hand back. “What I have isn’t an issue, Graham. It’s trauma.” She suddenly stood, making a wide berth as she circled the couch.
Gertrude retreated into the hallway.
Claire walked toward the sink and spun around, eyes full of anguish. “I was there that day. I stood there and watched that plane crash into the ground and burst into flames, knowing my dad was inside and there was no way he’d survived. I felt the chaos of the audience around me, but to them, it was a nameless pilot that had just died before their eyes. Don’t compare what I went through with a bunch of rich assholes from high school.”
Her pain sank in like a corkscrew in his gut. He couldn’t comprehend how she must have felt in that moment, or in the years since. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
Her hips fell back into the cabinets and she covered her face with her hands.
Graham grabbed his crutches and stood, but she immediately shook her head.
“Don’t. Please,” came her muffled voice.
“Claire,” he croaked, continuing toward her. “I love you—”
A sob wrenched from her chest.
“And I can’t just sit here and watch you cry. You might as well rip my heart out.”
She let her hands drop, revealing tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mine’s already in pieces. It shattered the moment I read the last email and I knew that, even after you’d come so far and finally, after twentysomething years, you’d finally opened yourself up to love, I had no choice but to break yours.”
Silence descended, thick and heavy.
Words failed him at the finality he sensed in her statement. His world seemed to spin on its axis and he fell back into a kitchen chair.
Cracks and pops sounded in the streets beyond as people celebrated Independence Day one day early. Normally Graham wouldn’t mind it, but the thought of anyone happy and laughing in this moment grated on his nerves.
There was no way his grief stayed contained inside his body. Couldn’t they feel it? Didn’t they know his world was coming apart at the seams?
“Please believe me,” she said, flattening her palms against her stomach. His throat tightened as if a hand gripped him there. “There’s a part of me that desperately wants to try, because I do love you, Graham. You mean so much to me. More than any man ever has. But I know deep down it’s not the right choice for me. Even though the moments spent with you would seem worth any cost, I know in the hours you’d be at work, or climbing, biking, or anything you enjoy that instills a healthy fear in us mortals, I’d suffer. I watched my mom do it for years, and you wanna know the worst part? Because he couldn’t give up his passion, my dad’s death was the only thing that set her free.”
Graham pressed heavy palms into his thighs, curling his hands into fists. Yes, he loved all those things, but none of that mattered. Not compared to her. “What if I gave it all up? The climbing and biking? Found a different job?”
She was shaking her head before he even finished talking. “I’d never ask you to do that—”
“You didn’t.”
“And I’d never allow it. It’s who you are, Graham. Now, more than ever, I know how much the outdoors means to you. I couldn’t live with myself if I took that away from you. I have to take me away instead.”
He let out a humorless laugh. The way her eyes widened said maybe it was an inappropriate response, but twenty years of emotional suppression meant little practice in healthy reactions. “So, you’re a martyr, then? You’re making this decision without my input?”
Her expression tightened. She didn’t like that.
“I used to have this recurring nightmare,” she said. “I’d dream I saw a plane crash, but I was the only one around. I’d run to the crash site, and even though the plane was on fire I could open the cockpit door. Dreams, I guess. And I’d see my dad in the seat. The weird thing was he looked normal. Uninjured and unharmed, like he was just asleep. But even in the dream I knew he was gone.”
She reached back to grip the counter. “I hadn’t had the dream in years, but after the scare with the firefighter when I thought it was you, it started up again. And then, last night...” She winced, as if the memory brought physical pain. “When I opened the door, it wasn’t my dad. It was you.”
His chest tightened at the distress on her face and in her voice. It made so much sense now...the look she’d given him last night when he woke her up. The way she’d kissed him with raw desperation and something like relief.
“I wish I could take it all away from you.” A futile thing to say, but it was the truth.
He’d do just about anything.
Her eyes locked with his. “I wish you could, too.”
He said the next words gently. “You said you went to therapy back then. Did it help? Do you think maybe you should do that again?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She gripped her wrist with the opposite hand. “I haven’t felt like I’ve needed anything like that for a long time. I was doing fine...until you.”
It took a few seconds for her words to sink in. I was doing fine...until you.
His muscles froze as his brain tripped over what she’d said.
Maybe he should be offended by the comment, but she hadn’t said it with malice. She was hurting.
He tried to take a breath, but it felt like he was twenty thousand feet in the air.
The first woman he’d loved in decades, and ultimately he’d only caused them both pain.
“I don’t know what to say.” The deep ache spreading from the center of his chest was a stark reminder of why he’d avoided this for so long. “I’m sorry I ever suggested we do this.”
Claire straightened, shaking her head. “Don’t say that. No matter what, I’ll never regret getting to know you. I’ll never regret being with you. Not any of it. I just think it’s best we put an end to things before they go any further.”