Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
brODY
Two nights have passed since Kate’s accident. They’ve been hell, for all kinds of reasons.
The first evening, I got her settled on the couch, keeping a watchful eye on her as she drifted in and out of sleep.
I knew what signs to look out for, and I drove her crazy by constantly checking on how she felt.
Making sure she wasn’t dizzy, that her vision was good, that she didn’t feel sick.
I was a hair trigger away from bundling her back in the car and driving her to the emergency room every time she breathed especially loudly.
A few people have called in with care packages, food she’s not overly interested in and booze she wisely doesn’t touch.
It’s just their way of showing concern, but I hate it – she’s weak, and she’s tired, and she needs quiet.
She needs… well, what do I know about that?
It isn’t me, for sure. She’s making that perfectly clear.
Since we got back to the cottage, she’s been distant. Off in a way I can’t quite pinpoint. It might just be the head injury, but I suspect it’s more than that. I suspect she’s backing off, retreating into her shell – making sure I can’t reject her or hurt her.
The worst thing is, I know she’s right to do it.
She told me she loved me, and I let her down.
This amazing woman loves me, and I’m too much of an idiot to be able to deal with it.
I’ve gone over and over it in my mind, and the only conclusion I can reach is that she’d be better off without me.
The sooner I’m gone, the sooner she’ll be able to heal – and not just physically.
My brain is a raging mess of emotions, and I’m torn in so many different directions.
Part of me wants to stay with her forever, protect her, keep her safe.
But part of me knows that I’m the one putting her most at risk – I can’t give her what she needs.
I’m too damaged, and maybe too much of a coward to even try.
Who am I even kidding, anyway? Life will go on without me.
Kate will go on without me. Moira is on the mend, and the bookstore will either survive, or become a hotel.
None of it is dependent on the not-so-mighty Brody Quinn.
That first night back from the hospital, I slept in the armchair, or more accurately I sat in the armchair.
I didn’t sleep at all, not while I had to keep watch over her.
The next morning, she seemed much more alert, much more in control. Much more guarded.
Last night, I found myself in Robbie’s old room again, staring up at the football posters and the pop singer whose name I can never remember.
Banished from Kate’s bed by mutual consent.
We used the concussion as an excuse, but we both know that’s not true.
Something has broken between us, and there’s no point trying to fix it.
I’m up before she is, in the kitchen after yet another crappy night.
My back is giving me hell, and even the sound of the sea isn’t soothing me.
I make a coffee, leaning against the counter and looking around the room.
Everything reminds me of the times we’ve shared together.
The places we’ve made love. The times we’ve danced, and talked for hours on end, and laughed so hard we were crying.
The cosy nights curled up on the sofa, reading books we brought home from the store after a long day of working to make it special.
This will always be special, but I know it has to end.
It already has ended, in reality – we’re both just still here.
I get my phone out, and check flights to Chicago.
My heart is heavy as I do it, and I feel like I’m choking on swamp water as I figure out the best way to do this.
Should I just go? Should I write her a note?
Do we need to have another fake conversation where we pretend everything is okay when it’s not?
I hear her singing upstairs, and against the odds it makes me smile.
Ironically, she’s doing that Gloria Gaynor song, the one girls always dance to at parties – ‘I Will Survive’.
Huh. Maybe it’s a not so subtle message from the universe, or, less weirdly, from Kate herself.
She will survive. I know she will. I’m being an arrogant asshole assuming otherwise.
She emerges into the room wearing a pretty sundress patterned with daisies.
Her hair is wet from the shower, and she looks gorgeous.
Even now, with the weight of this decision pressing down on my shoulders, I still want her.
Our eyes meet, and the familiar spark arcs between us. She feels the same, I know it.
I watch her face as she schools it into something more respectable, more neutral. A hell of a lot less dangerous for us both.
‘Good morning!’ she says brightly. I feel the effort she’s making, and I want to throw the damn coffee cup across the room. She’s trying to make this pleasant, easy, when nothing about it feels like either of those things.
‘Hey. How are you?’ I ask.
‘I’m great, Brody. Totally back to normal, I’d say. And before you run through your checklist, Dr Quinn Medicine Man, my headache has gone, no nausea, no dizziness, no blurred vision or problems with speech. You can stand down.’
I nod, but feel oddly worse. While she still needed me, I had a reason to stay. I could fool myself that I was only here to look after her. Now, she’s letting me off the hook, and we both know it.
I make her a herbal tea, the ginger stuff she’s started drinking over the last few days, and place it on the table, indicating that she should sit while I make us some toast. Her nose twitches appreciatively at the smell, and she actually eats with enthusiasm this morning. She’s definitely feeling better.
‘So,’ I say after a few moments. ‘I think I might need to go back to the States earlier than planned.’
She’s mid-bite, and she chews it real slow, like she’s buying herself some time before she speaks.
‘Right. I see. Why?’ she finally says, her voice low and her tone incredibly even.
As long as I’ve known Kate, she’s pretty much worn her heart on her sleeve – now?
Now I have no clue what she’s thinking, and I hate it.
I hate it, but I know I have no right to her thoughts, or her heart, or any part of her at all.
‘My new boss wants me to start sooner,’ I say, the words coming without me having planned them. They float there in the air between us, and her eyes narrow slightly. She puts down her mug, and gives me a gentle smile. It’s not the full wattage heartbreaker, but it’s enough to do some damage.
‘That’s not true is it, Brody?’ She sighs, and reaches out to take my hand in hers. ‘We promised each other honesty at the start of all this. Let’s finish that way too. Let’s not end this with a lie.’
I hold on to her fingers, and drop a quick kiss onto her palm. I break contact then, because this is hard enough already, without adding in the fact that every time I touch this woman I forget the rest of the world exists.
‘You’re right, Kate. I’m sorry.’
‘About what?’
‘About everything. I never intended to hurt you, you know that, right?’
‘I do,’ she assures me, maintaining that insanely calm voice.
‘And you’re not the bad guy here, Brody.
Neither am I. We met, and something magical happened, and then it ended.
I wanted more than you could give, but I need you to know that I don’t resent you for that.
I always knew, deep down, that it couldn’t last – and I don’t regret a single moment of it. ’
‘Really?’ I ask, feeling choked up by her words. ‘Even that first day on the train, when you spilled coffee on me like a complete klutz?’
She grins a little. ‘Not even that. And maybe I did it on purpose to get your attention.’
‘Did you?’
‘God no, like you said, I’m just a klutz! But it was the start, wasn’t it? The start of all of this. Moira’s master plan in action. And I wouldn’t change a thing, I promise you.’
Her hazel eyes are avoiding mine, and I can’t help thinking that she’s holding back. That she must have more to say, she must have some pain and frustration that she needs to vent. Or maybe I’m overestimating my importance, not for the first time.
‘You’re sure?’ I ask, part of me wanting her to make this more difficult. To fight for it – which is ironic, considering that I’m the one doing the walking.
‘I’m sure. I understand, Brody. I understand that you’re not ready.
You didn’t ask for me to fall in love with you.
That’s all on me, and again, I don’t even regret it – it was wonderful to feel that way, even if it didn’t work out.
I will always treasure what we had here, but you don’t owe me anything at all.
I wish you nothing but the best, I promise. ’
This is too simple. Too easy. I don’t deserve this grace, this kindness. I deserve a slap across the face, a punch to the gut, a knee to the groin. I’ve broken what we had, and she is letting me go with a minimum of consequence. She’s trying to make me feel better about myself, for God’s sake!
I stare into her eyes, see the hint of a tear. Her smile falters, and I get a glimpse beneath the layers of serenity to the turmoil beneath. Does it make me an asshole that I’m glad? That I want her to be sad? Yeah. I think it does.
‘Please, Brody,’ she says, her voice now cracking with emotion. ‘Please leave it at this for now? We can speak again when you’re home. When we both feel less vulnerable. But for now, let’s end this the way we started it – with hope.’
I let out a long breath, and nod.