Snarling, Bree demanded, “How in the hell can you say that? It damn well should be me. It’s not like I’ve got a man who’s going to grieve if I die. The only important person I’d leave behind is you. Damn it, it should be me!”
“No. If it should be you, it would be— Bree, I’m glad it’s not.” She closed her eyes and a heavy, sighing breath escaped her. “I’m not as strong as you are, Bree. I’d break. If I had to watch this happen to you, watch this happen to anybody I love, I’d break. I’d do exactly what most of my other friends have done and just disappear. I couldn’t handle it. But you can. You’re strong, Bree. You always have been.”
You’re wrong, Bree wanted to say.
But Alyssa was already asleep.
Blinded by tears, half-sick with guilt and disgust and despair, Bree headed for the door. She had to get out of here. Get on her bike, crank it up and let the wind blow it all away. If she went fast enough, far enough, maybe she could escape it.
You’re strong, Bree. You always have been. Shit, what a pathetic joke.
She plowed straight into a rock-hard chest. Jerking away, she mumbled, “Sorry,” and tried to go around Colby but he caught her arm. Heat flared along her skin where he touched her. As guilty as she felt, she loved the feel of his body touching hers, even a touch as innocent as this.
“Bree, are you okay?” His tawny eyes left her face, looking toward the room he shared with Alyssa. “Is Lys…?”
Forcing a smile, she said, “She’s asleep. I’m just… I just need to breathe.”
His fingers fell away from her arm, but before she could escape, he rested his hand on her shoulder. Through her T-shirt, she could feel the heat of him, the strength. His thumb swept along her skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake and Bree flushed painfully red. Tucking her chin against her chest, she held still, tried not to breathe, not to move.
“It’s hard.”
Startled, Bree looked up at him. He had that lopsided smile that Bree had so fallen in love with, but it was sad. “Watching her day after day, seeing how much she hurts and how tired she is. Some of our friends, well…they can’t take it. They’ve pretty much stopped coming over. Some of them don’t even call any more. You don’t know how much it means to us that you keep coming over every day.”
Shit, could she possibly feel any guiltier? Didn’t seem possible, but Bree realized she was wrong. As he innocently stroked her shoulder and tried to make her feel better while his dying wife lay sleeping, Bree stood there, her body reacting to his touch as though he had stripped her naked and put his mouth on her. Her guilt grew until it encompassed everything.
Haltingly, she said, “She’s my best friend, Colby. I need to be with her.”
“I know. And she needs you.”
Tears blurred her eyes. Rage churned inside, trapped, unable to find any outlet. She started to shake and she knew, just knew she was going to break. Alyssa was wrong. Bree wasn’t strong—she was about as weak as they come.
Colby sighed.
So attuned to him, Bree heard the soft catch in the sound and unwittingly, she lifted her head and looked at him. Saw a muscle jerk in his jaw, saw the suspicious glitter in his eyes. But then he blinked and it was gone. “I’m glad she has you with her, Colby.”
Then she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. If she breathed in the scent of his skin a little deeper than she should, it wasn’t intentional. If she shivered a little and wished she had the right to kiss him differently, it wasn’t because she could help it. She loved him—she always had.
But no matter what Alyssa had asked of her, this wasn’t something she could do.
The next day, Alyssa was gone. Colby had lain down with her for a nap and she died quietly in his arms while her private-duty nurse was at lunch. Bree was five miles away, bringing Alyssa some cinnamon candy from a small, family owned candy shop, even though she knew Alyssa wouldn’t eat them. She’d spent the past day trying to come up with the words for Alyssa, words to explain that what Alyssa wanted wasn’t something that Bree could really do.
But it was too late for explanations.
Too late to tell her best friend how sorry she was, even if Alyssa didn’t want apologies.
Too late to do anything but watch as Colby quietly and emotionlessly went about the task of calling the doctor and everybody else. Even though the nurse told them she’d handle it, Colby did it all. And when it was done, when all the final arrangements were made, he walked out of the house without looking back. She didn’t see him for two days, not until the visitation, and he didn’t say a word, didn’t speak to anybody. It was almost like looking at a robot.
Today was no better.
He continued to stare down into the gaping hole in the earth. The silent agony on his face had her eyes tearing up. She wanted to say something, wanted to do something, but what was there to say? What was there for her to do?