Chapter 8 #2
My smile froze, and my breath stalled at his words, replaced by a raw, gaping maw of ever-present blame.
Sometime within the last fifteen years, the emptiness I’d felt when I thought about her gave way to guilt—consuming, crushing guilt.
I wore the emotion like a second skin, never allowing myself to let go of the memory of her.
And why should I? She deserved to be cherished above all else—a constant reminder about the dangers of straying from one’s set path.
“Autumn has nothing to do with you or your engagement,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes closed until bright spots danced in the corner of my vision. “She’s gone.”
“I disagree,” he answered, just as softly.
“I spend enough time at her fucking grave to know she’s dead, Rob!”
“This is exactly what I mean.” He rose from his chair and sighed, motioning for me to sit down.
“She died, but she still lives here.” Rob punched the left side of my chest with his fist, not caring that the force of his knuckles would probably leave a bruise.
“I need you standing with me, Maverick, as my best man.”
“I’d be honored. Being your best man has nothing to do with her.”
“It has everything to do with her. I saw how empty your eyes were when your brothers got married.”
“Again, what does she have to do with you not telling me you’re getting married, or asking me to be your best man? I accept, of course. Idiot.”
“Am I going to have to spell it out for you?”
“Apparently.” I laid my head on the back of the couch as a ninety-pound, fully-grown dog jumped onto my lap, thinking she still weighed ten measly pounds, making the breath whoosh out of me.
“Fine,” Rob said, sliding to the far corner of the couch so Malibu could lie between us. “This conversation is long overdue.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Well, dumbass, someone has to kick you into gear. If it takes me going all Mama Bear on you, so be it.”
“Mama bear?”
“Shut up, fucker, and listen.”
“Yes, mother.”
Rob huffed and rubbed his palms on his jeans before fixing his eyes on a spot above the pictures on his office wall. “I know you never wanted to get married, not after your dad passed. Being the oldest, you felt like taking care of your family was your job.”
“It was my job—is my job,” I murmured, closing my eyes and resting my hand on Malibu’s back. I felt her body shake and smiled, knowing her tail was wagging.
“Right. Then you fell in love and—against your better judgment, because you’re a self-sacrificing asshat—you got married.” I opened one eye, watching Rob tap his fingers against his thigh.
“As much as I appreciate the history lesson, I’m still waiting for the point of this little heart-to-heart,” I said. Rehashing the past wasn’t good for anything except giving me indigestion.
My life worked.
I wasn’t some depressed mongrel pining away for a girl long gone, nor was I the guy who spent all his time alone carving wooden furniture and talking to the flowers on his front porch.
There were Friday night poker games, bar trivia, and fly fishing.
Sunday family barbeques and lazy summer days hunting with my brothers.
I didn’t need anything else.
“Then she died in a freak accident on the way to your honeymoon, and your life stalled.” Rob stood and paced around his small office. Malibu lifted her head from my lap and whined, picking up on the tension.
“It did not stall.”
“It did.” His index finger came close to poking me in the eye as he stressed the words. “Months passed, then years, and everyone moved on… Everyone but you.”
“I’m not stuck in the past, pining like some lovesick fool.”
“Nope. You live in a guilt bubble, refusing to believe your life could be more.”
“Dear God, you do sound like my mother.” I snickered, losing count of the times Mom tried to impart some ill-gotten wisdom I never asked for.
“I want you as my best man, Mav, but I refuse to give you that responsibility if you continue on this path.”
“What? Are you seriously threatening me? For what purpose? To force me to stop something I have no control over?” I stood and crowded him, poking him in the chest as my temper flared. “I cost a family their only daughter! I shouldn’t get to fucking move on!”
“Yes, but after almost fifteen miserable years, it’s time you live for yourself.”
Rob matched my stance, crossing his arms and scowling. I had a good two inches and twenty pounds on him, but he didn’t back down. My anger deflated as fast as it rose, and I slumped back down on the couch and spread my legs, resting my elbows on my knees and bowing my head.
He was right. They were all right, but how was I supposed to move on, knowing that the same thing might happen if I dared to start a relationship again? I refused to cause someone else’s pain and heartache.
“I need you standing with me. Planning the bachelor party and talking me down when Megan insists on a fourteen-layer tiered cake or some shit.”
I snorted at the thought of a cake that big, at the same time wondering how I could prove to Rob I’d take the responsibility as his best man seriously, while not compromising the way I wanted to handle my love life.
“And I will. I promise. But right now, I need a drink,” I said, standing and rolling my shoulders to relieve the tension. It didn’t work, and I winced, bending to retrieve my hat that had somehow ended up by my feet.
“I need several.”
“Good call.” I clapped him on the shoulder as he turned the lights off in the shop and locked the doors.
“You know I’ll be glad to sell you that bumper if it means that much to you, right?” Rob said before grabbing his battered backpack and slipping it over his left shoulder. “But trying to restore the same car you drove when you got into the accident with Autumn is just morbid as fuck.”
I thought about accepting his offer and spending the next few months getting the Mustang in working order, but he was right. Punishing myself by restoring that car was not the way to keep her memory alive. All it did was keep me stagnant.
“No. Hang onto it for me, would you?”
I whistled, and Malibu followed me to the truck, sniffing the front tires before jumping onto the passenger seat.
“You got it,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Now, let’s get that drink.”