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“It’s confusing to her.”
Gage rolls his head my way to indicate he’s all ears.
“She says we can’t be fuck buddies because you should generally like the other person. I’ve been an asshole to her, and I don’t like her trying to cut down my trees.”
“Oh, imagine that,” he says caustically. “A woman who wants to feel like she’s more than just a piece of meat.”
“That’s not how I view her,” I growl, sitting up in my chair. “There’s actually plenty I like about her. Stuff that attracts me in ways other than just getting my rocks off.”
“Then why don’t you tell her those things?”
Such a fucking simple question with what should be an easy answer. I slump back in my chair. “Because at the core, I’m still not a nice person, I guess.”
“You see,” Gage says, rising to face me. He holds out his arms, one hand clutching his beer bottle before moving to the cooler to grab two more. “That’s what I don’t get. Why are you an asshole? You weren’t like that before the crash. You were known for your easygoing ways and your charm with everyone. Was it just the crash? Because if so, I’m telling you that you need to get the fuck over the whole survivor’s guilt thing and get your life on track.”
He’s hit the nail on the head, but only if it were as easy as it just being about the crash. Gage returns with two beers, and I down the rest of the one in my hand before accepting his offering.
When he settles back into his seat, I contemplate doing something I would’ve never considered doing before I met Tilden.
Before she started twisting up my insides with fucking feelings.
“It’s not just about the crash, although that’s the major part.”
Gage sits forward, angling toward me. In the glow of the torchlights, I stare at my beer bottle rather than look him in the eye. “I did something horrible to a teammate—Kyle Ralston—but he didn’t know about it. I was going to tell him the morning the team left for Columbus, but I had the flu and couldn’t make the trip. I didn’t get a chance to make it right before the plane went down. I didn’t get a chance to earn forgiveness, and somehow, I survived… yet I’m the one who shouldn’t have. It’s all so fucked up and twisted in my head. The guilt of what I did to Kyle and the guilt of surviving. It’s too much, and the only thing I know is that I don’t deserve anything good.”
“You said those words to me before—that you aren’t deserving—and I wondered what you meant,” he murmurs, and my eyes rise to meet his. “But Coen… sometimes it’s not about forgiveness from the person you wronged but forgiving yourself.”
“I can’t.” My words come out in a hoarse croak.
“You can,” he says firmly.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?”
“I don’t know. Have you?”
I glance toward the darkened tree line. “Maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to do with Tilden. She’s the first woman…”
My words trail off. That won’t make any sense to him because he doesn’t know what my sins are. I’m so fucking ashamed of what I’ve done, the thought of revealing it makes me sick to my stomach.
Instead, I say, “I can’t bond with anyone on the team because I wronged a teammate. I don’t deserve to be on that team because I can’t be trusted. There isn’t a penance that will obviate it, because the only thing that would have worked was for me to make it right with Kyle.”
Gage rubs his hand over his jaw. “Man, I don’t care what you did. We all make mistakes, and it’s obvious you’re trulyremorseful. To me, that’s the most important thing. You took responsibility, and you were going to try to make it right. The only thing that stopped you was when fucking fate intervened.”
“Fuck fate,” I mutter.
“Fuck fate is right,” he agrees emphatically. “But Kyle died without the burden of knowing you did something wrong. I have no clue what it would have done to him. He died without it on his shoulders, and you cannot fucking feel guilty about that. Maybe fate didhima favor in the end.”
I blink in surprise before letting my gaze go back to my meditative space—the trees. That had never even crossed my mind, just as it had never crossed my mind to withhold the truth. I’d even agreed with Darcy that it would be best to tell him after the game so I wouldn’t fuck up his play.
“I do know something, though.” My attention swings back to Gage. “Kyle would have forgiven you.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can. I knew Kyle. When you’re in the league as long as I’ve been, you get to know a lot of people. He was a straight shooter. He was principled. He would have respected that you were man enough to admit you’d done wrong. I also know you, as much as anyone can, and you don’t have a malicious bone in your body. Whatever you did, it wasn’t done with the intention of hurting him. I’d stake my life on that.”
I shake my head. “No. I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“Look… I get it. You’ve got the guilt of surviving and the guilt of wronging someone. Those things may never go away completely, but when you hole yourself up, remove yourself from everyone, and build a wall so high nothing can breach it, that guilt has nowhere to go. It’s trapped inside with you, and you’ve got to let that shit out before it destroys everything.”
