“What?” Her eyes flew open. “Why?”
He’d visited Joe’s headstone numerous times throughout the past two years, but today he’d gone to Mark’s. Something he’d avoided until now. He’d apologized for his lack of mercy and admitted part of his dislike had been due to jealousy. Jealousy that Mark had married Colby before Alec ever had the chance to show her what kind of man he could be. A pointless wish, seeing as Alec had failed to be that guy, anyway. “To make some decisions.”
“Decisions about your family?” She frowned, her face filled with confusion.
“I’ve given up hoping that anything between my dad and me will change.” He still felt numb when considering the confrontation they’d had at the hospital and its long-term consequences.
“Don’t give up.” She laid her hands on his chest. Unrelenting in her effort to soothe him. Another irony, really. He’d wanted her to reclaim the pieces of herself that she’d shut away. That brave spirit that would wade into murky emotional tides in order to help someone. He just hadn’t wanted to be that someone who’d needed her help.
He raised her hands to his lips, wishing he could hold on to her without being a selfish prick. He couldn’t. Not if he wanted her to have the kind of carefree life she’d asked for. He’d been torn for weeks about doing the right thing and making excuses in order to avoid the fallout. No more. Now he faced the woman he’d wanted forever, unsure of how, exactly, to take the sledgehammer to his heart. “Sometimes walking away is the best choice.”
“You can’t walk away from family.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Do you blame me for what’s happened with your parents?”
Seeing her guilt wiped away any doubts about what he needed to do.
“You’ve got it backward, Colby. Before I showed up, you were on your way out of mourning, ready to open a new business. A nice, carefree guy wanted to date you. The past seemed to be shrinking in your rearview mirror. Then Hunter called, and I stepped smack into the middle of your happiness, bringing bad memories and trouble along with me.”
“Alec,” she started.
“No, listen.” He backed farther away from her, needing distance. Needing air. “I need to tell you something, so please let me finish.”
“I don’t like the finality in your voice.” She kept her gaze even with his.
“I love you, you know. I think I always have. You’re kind and beautiful and brave, and you deserve a man who’s your equal. If you believe nothing else when I’m done, believe that.” His throat continued its fight against him, swelling as if trying to choke off what he planned to say. “Sadly, I’m not that guy. You kept a secret from me about the critic, but I’ve been far more dishonest. All I can hope now is that owning up to all my sins might eventually set us all free.”
“Free from what?” She sank onto the sofa almost as if her legs had given out.
“Free from pain. From regret. From settling for less than we deserve.”
He sat beside her then; despite everything, he wanted to be close to her one last time. He clasped her hand and placed her palm against his cheek, like some masochistic reminder of how much he liked it when she touched him. “I need to confess something to you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes for a second. “You’ve spent endless hours wondering how you could’ve prevented Mark’s suicide. Endured nightmares and PTSD from witnessing it. And then you let me in, even with your reservations. Even with the complications of our families and our work relationship. Shamefully, I let you turn to me while knowing that I could’ve prevented all of your suffering.”
“Alec, Mark’s choices had nothing to do with you. I told you he was bipolar. Suicidal thoughts are somewhat prevalent in those afflicted.”
“I still had a hand in it.”
He stood and crossed the room, which would be the only way he could finish. He couldn’t face her now, so he stared at one of the photos his mom had brought with her. The one of Hunter, Joe, Colby, and him hanging from the tree-house ladder. An innocent time before egos and puberty and jealousies corrupted the love and friendship they’d all shared.
“About a week before Mark jumped, he sent me an apology note, begging my family for forgiveness. He said he couldn’t go on without it. I didn’t take that threat seriously, and I wasn’t ready to forgive him, or myself, for anything, so I ignored him. Obviously, I never even warned you about his state of mind.”
He didn’t glance over his shoulder. He couldn’t. He doubted he had enough strength to see the disgust or anger he knew would be reflected in her eyes.
In the distance, the faint sound of a train floated through an open window. The droning of its engine ushered him back to the memory of Mark’s funeral.
“The day you buried Mark, I watched from a distant spot in the cemetery. In all the years I’d known you, you’d never looked so vacant and frail. So spooked. I hated myself. I hated Mark and Joe. I hated the powerless feelings that consumed me. I wanted to fix it for you, but I didn’t know how.
“I told myself the best thing I could do was stay away from you. That seeing me would only remind you of Joe and Mark. That confessing couldn’t bring Mark back, anyway. But the truth is that I was a coward. I couldn’t face you and your pain, knowing that I might’ve prevented it. When you’d tried to reach out to me in sympathy about Joe, I ran from you so you wouldn’t see everything vile and worthless in me.”
His voice cracked, but at this point weakness hardly mattered. “I never wanted to believe that my dad could be right about me, but that kind of cowardice sort of proves that he was, at least a little.”
He hated himself for hurting her, but he’d also just lost ten thousand pounds by shedding the burden of that secret.
Colby’s small voice emerged. “So Mark’s jump and all the consequences of it might’ve been avoided if you had forgiven him or spoken up.”
And there it was . . . the sickening truth he’d hoped to ignore for the rest of their lives.
“Since coming back to town, I’ve done everything possible to make you happy in some twisted attempt to make amends to Mark and you . . . to redeem myself. Yet none of this tiptoeing around to keep the peace—to keep things easy and simple—has made us strong. It hasn’t helped my family or the restaurant. Any progress I thought we were making wasn’t real, because we haven’t been honest with each other.” He slouched onto a chair, unable to stand on weakening legs. Shame and regret wedged their way into his voice. “Everything I’ve touched since my fight with Joe gets destroyed. I should’ve never touched you, but I couldn’t resist.”
He didn’t glance up. Couldn’t. He knew he’d see disgust reflected in her eyes, and he couldn’t really blame her.