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But it had spooked him
to know those symptoms were still there, ready to tackle him to the ground again at a moment’s notice if he wasn’t careful. The therapist had told him as much, why hadn’t he listened?
Perhaps it was that knowledge though, that hunted feeling, that gave him a weird sort of empathy with Ruby Graham’s battle to contain her distress.
‘Don’t cry,’ he said, aware of the tortured breathing making her breasts look even more impressive against the gingham bodice of her Dorothy costume.
Look away from the rack.
He raised his gaze and connected with her luminous-green eyes, awash with tears. But then to his shock, she did as he told her. Biting into her lip, she broke eye contact to stare at the poster of his old man he’d been busy ignoring.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ she whispered. ‘I bloody swore I wouldn’t do this and now I’ve done it anyway.’
‘Done what?’ he asked, although he wasn’t sure she was talking to him.
She scrubbed her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘Gone the full drama queen.’ Flags of colour lit the sprinkle of freckles visible on her cheeks under the smudged make-up.
‘If you think that’s going the full drama queen,’ he said. ‘You don’t know enough drama queens.’
She huffed out a hoarse laugh. ‘Believe me, I know one of the very best.’ She swallowed convulsively, then dropped her chin to stare at her hands, which were clenched into fists in her lap. ‘Or rather, I knew one of the best.’ She gave her cheeks another swipe, even though no more tears had appeared. ‘Why do you have to talk about dead people in the past tense?’
Unease gave the pretzel in his stomach an extra twist. Sharing was not his strong suit – especially with strangers.
‘I don’t want to talk about Matty in the past,’ she said fiercely, saving him the headache of thinking up a sympathetic reply. ‘As if we lost touch somehow, or he isn’t my best mate anymore. It feels weird and wrong and callous.’
Somehow he doubted she had a callous bone in her body.
She dragged in a tortured breath and let out a jagged sigh. ‘Death really bloody sucks, doesn’t it?’
Her grief felt so raw and real, he found himself actually struggling to find an answer for her, even though she didn’t seem that aware of his presence anymore.
‘I’m sorry I never got to meet him,’ he managed at last, surprised by the words.
Matty Devlin, however colourful, sounded way too much like his mother – and one Oscar-worthy drama queen in his life had been more than enough. But he was here to crush Ruby’s dreams, as much as his dead uncle’s, toughing out that unvarnished truth seemed like enough for her to handle today.
She lifted her gaze and studied him, and he had the unprecedented urge to squirm.
‘No, you’re not,’ she said at last, but then her wide lips tilted on one side in an almost smile. His heartbeat stumbled – which was strange, because he didn’t appreciate being figured out so easily. ‘But thanks for lying,’ she added, not sounding offended by his inability to lie convincingly. ‘I’m sure Matty would have loved to have met you, so he’s probably doing a snoopy dance right now if his spirit is still hanging about …’ She ran her open palms down her dress. ‘Which I certainly hope it is.’ She glanced around the room. ‘You hear that, Matty? I’m expecting a full on haunting worthy of Hill House or I’m going to be really disappointed in you.’
Her gaze glided back to meet his as she flicked one thick braid over her shoulder. ‘Sorry,’ she said, the sheepish smile endearing. ‘You probably think you’ve landed in Oz.’
You haven’t seen my mom hit peak Helena Devlin.
He swallowed the too revealing retort.
‘Not really,’ he said. Despite that one errant tear, and the weirdly hot Dorothy costume, Ruby Graham was pretty much the most forthright and restrained person he’d ever met. Of course, that wasn’t saying a whole hell of a lot, if you considered that apart from his work colleagues, sense and sanity didn’t run strongly in his list of close acquaintances.
But still, he had to give her credit for her honesty – and her lack of unnecessary drama in the face of extreme circumstances.
‘You’re grieving,’ he added, surprising himself even more with this demonstration of his previously untapped share-and-discuss skills. ‘Feeling shit and behaving like a nut job goes with the territory.’ I know. ‘Or so I’m told,’ he finished, yanking himself back from that piece of over-sharing.
He had no experience of the true ravages of grief, because he’d made a point of protecting himself from the kind of pain this woman was going through ever since he was fourteen by the simple expediency of keeping close relationships to an absolute minimum. And while a shrink – or his mom in fake-shrink mode – would have a field day with that, it worked for him.
She nodded. ‘I suppose,’ she said, not sounding convinced. ‘Although I really wish I hadn’t given you the impression I can’t even run a Wizard of Oz extravaganza without bursting into tears.’
She hadn’t burst into tears, even though she’d had more than enough provocation, but he didn’t think pointing that out would help him get back to where he needed to be so he kept his mouth shut. He doubted whatever she was going to say would change his mind about what needed to happen next, but he was willing to hear her out. Something he had planned to do before he’d been ambushed by the Falcone For Pope brigade in the lobby.
Negotiations were his strong suit.
