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“Breck. I think he’s come to apologize for being unable to make it yesterday. I have to say he doesn’t look much better. I hope he’s not contagious. The last thing we need is to come down with something on Christmas Day.”
Caitie looked down at her bare legs and her old threadbare sweatshirt. She wasn’t exactly dressed for entertaining. “Can you tell him I’ll call him later?” she asked.
“Honey, he’s come to say sorry. And this is Breck we’re talking about. He won’t care that you’re wearing old clothes, or that your hair’s a mess. Oh, or about the red patch on your face from where you’ve been sleeping.”
“Yeah, thanks for noticing that.” Caitie rubbed her cheek.
Deenie sighed. “I know you’re tired, sweetheart. We all are. Just come out and say hi. He’s on his own and I can’t help but think about it being the anniversary of his mom’s death. Thirteen years might be a long time, but it has to still hurt.”
That got her attention. She swung her legs out of bed, her feet hitting the warm rug. “Okay, give me a minute. I’ll put on something more appropriate.”
It didn’t mean anything. Nothing more than a friend caring about a friend. As angry as she was with him, the soft girl inside of her still cared about Breck. About his pain, his grief, about him being all alone.
Grabbing a pair of jeans from her suitcase, she slid them on and pulled a brush through her matted hair. It got stuck, stubbornly refusing to budge no matter how hard she tugged. In the end, she slid it into a high ponytail. A glance in the mirror told her she looked as bad as she felt. Her face – shiny from no makeup – was also red and blotchy. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. The lids themselves were puffy from lack of sleep and way too much crying. Even the best tools in her cosmetic bag wouldn’t be enough to combat that.
She pulled her shoulders back, straightening her spine. What did it matter anyway? She didn’t care what Breck thought of her, or if he saw her at her worst. She was too tired to care about anything at all.
When she walked down the hallway, he was sitting in the kitchen leaning against the counter, his hands wrapped around a mug. A glance inside told her whatever he was drinking was red and warm. No doubt another concoction from her mom.
“Hi,” he said as soon as he saw her. He looked as bad as she did. The shadows beneath his eyes were darker than hers. But more than that, he looked drawn and defeated. Like a man who had nothing left to lose.
“How are you feeling?” she asked him.
“A little better.” Breck blinked. “I wanted to come by to say sorry.” He glanced over at Deenie, who was unashamedly staring at them. “Um, can we go for a walk or something?”
The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him. But the alternative was even worse. The only saving grace from this whole fiasco was that she didn’t have to face her family’s concern about the end of their brief relationship.
“You can go out on the deck,” Deenie suggested. “It’s a gorgeous day out there. Daddy’s in his study so he won’t disturb you.”
Shrugging, Caitie stood up, leading Breck out through the glass doors to the wooden deck. The furniture was still out – no need to put it away for the winter in temperate Angel Sands. They each slid a chair out, sitting a few feet away from each other.
But that distance still wasn’t enough. Against her will, Caitie could feel her body warm up at his proximity. It was as if he was imprinted in her DNA; every inch of her yearned for him.
“I’m so sorry.” Breck leaned closer, and his scent lifted in the breeze. Sandalwood and Brecken Miller, an intoxicating combination. “I messed up; I hurt you and I can’t believe I left like that.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his. “I can’t believe it either,” she whispered. “I only wanted to know that you were okay.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I know. And I wasn’t. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”
“That hurt. A lot. I knew you were hurting about your mom, and I understood why. I wanted you to let me in.”
“And I should have, but I wasn’t thinking straight. It felt like everything was closing in on me.” He looked down at his feet, biting his bottom lip. “I don’t find talking about this stuff easy.”
“I get that, I really do. But I can’t have a relationship with somebody who won’t open up.” She sighed. “I tried to talk to you, I really did. And you threw it back in my face.” She licked her lips. “I told you everything about my own fears. Do you think that was easy?”
He laced his fingers together and glanced up at her. “I want to open up. I do. I’d like to try and explain. That is, if you’ll hear me out.”
She picked at a stray thread on her sweater, pulling at the black string until the fabric puckered. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll listen.”
She heard him take in a deep lungful of breath. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his messy hair. “So, I’m not really good at talking about this stuff…”
No kidding.
“But I’ve realized that keeping it all in, well it ends up with me losing it. You either have to break out or break down, I guess. And because I thought I could handle things, I broke down.”
Her mouth was dry. She knew how much it took for this strong, proud man to admit to breaking. How hard it was to let himself be vulnerable.
“I talked to my dad yesterday. I told him about everything that had happened. Well, most of it. And he made me realize something. I’m an avoider. If I can’t handle something, I do whatever I can to walk away from it. But in the long run, Cait, it means I’m going to lose everything. And I don’t want that, not any more. Not now that I know what it feels like to lose you.” His voice cracked, and the sound of it broke the dam keeping Caitie’s emotions in check. A fat tear rolled down her cheek. “And out of everything in my life, my mom included, losing you hurts the most.
