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Coen shakes his head. “No, Tillie. When a man is with a woman, his friends don’t go there, not ever. It was wrong, even if they had been truly broken up.”
I consider that a moment, and I see his point. “And that’s what’s bothering you? That’s the reason why you think you’re undeserving of good things? Why you think you’re a bad person?”
“Yes, and the fact that I couldn’t make it right. The worst is that I couldn’t apologize.”
Coen proceeds to tell me in detail how that night went down. I don’t really want the details of him being intimate with another woman, but it is some balm to know it wasn’t a great experiencefor him. That he committed a disloyal act for something that was decidedly lacking in reward. He shares how he resolved to tell his friend Kyle what happened, only to find out before the flight left that they were not in fact broken up. That the woman—Darcy—talked Coen into waiting to tell Kyle until after the team returned so as not to mess up his game. How Coen couldn’t get on the plane because he had a fever, so he agreed to wait.
“I knew he might hate me,” Coen says as he winds down, his shoulders sagging as if exhausted. “But I knew it would ease my conscience if I told him the truth and apologized. It never happened, though. That fucking plane went down and with it, my chance to make things right.”
I don’t know what to say. It’s an untenable situation for anyone.
“I’m not sure I can really describe it, Tillie, but my survivor’s guilt is all mixed up with this guilt over doing that to Kyle and not being able to rectify it. They’re so entwined and with each of them eating away at me, I don’t know where one starts and the other ends. It’s like, if I just had to live with the fact that they all died, I could be okay, but knowing I did something so low and dirty to Kyle tears me up. I think about it every goddamn day, and it’s killing me. It’s why I can’t be with the team. It’s why I’m quitting hockey, because I don’t deserve to be a part of that family anymore.”
My heart cracks wide open at the pain in his voice. “Coen…”
“You don’t understand,” he continues, the words pouring out as his breathing becomes erratic. “Hockey was my salvation from a cold and unloving home. Hockey led me to a new family. It kept me together growing up, and in my adult life, there were no greater friends than the men who died on that plane. They were my family, and I fucking betrayed one of them.
“And then they wanted to rebuild the team, and I’m supposed to build new bonds with these players, and I can’t. Ican’t put myself out there. I can’t let them think I’d ever be a good friend or that they could trust me, because they can’t. I don’t fucking deserve it at all.”
CHAPTER 21
Coen
Ihadn’t meantto spill my guts like that to Tillie, but she kept pushing. A rush of air whooshes out of me, and I am completely drained.
This is the point where I expect her to cut her losses and run. Now that she knows the type of man she’s dealing with, she should head for the door a third time. I will let her walk away before she is truly hurt by me.
But she doesn’t.
She just stands there, facing me, empathy in those golden eyes. My body actually rebels at such a kind gift—empathy—and twists into knots. “Don’t look at me like that,” I growl.
“Like what?” Her voice is gentle, an attempt to calm me.
“Like you feel sorry for me.” Christ, I can’t stand feeling weak, and she’s making me feel that way.
“I don’t feel sorry for you. But my heart hurts that you’re hurting. It was a mistake, Coen.” Tillie’s voice is filled with urgency because she’s a true empath, and she knows I’m at the bottom of the barrel. “And that mistake is not on the same scale as the amount of self-loathing I’m seeing. It’s not proportionate.”
“I deserve the pain. But you don’t deserve to hurt on my behalf. You should go, Tillie. This thing between us is over.”
She shakes her head, her blond curls falling over her shoulders. “It’s not over. Because you’ve involved me now, and I’m not walking away from a person who would trust me with his pain.”
“That was a mistake,” I assure her. “Telling you. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
I start to push away from the rail, but she’s now the one stepping into my path. All five feet and maybe one inch of her, tipping her head back to glare at me. “Oh, no you don’t. You don’t get to invite me over, have the gall to serve me shitty frozen hamburgers, act like an ass, feed a chipmunk nuts, and then trust me with that burden you’re carrying.”
I’m stunned silent.
“You haven’t shared that with anyone, have you? You’ve been carrying that around on your own for months and haven’t been able to work out how to deal with it, right?”
What in the hell is she getting at?I shake my head.
Tillie steps into me, her hands going to the waistband of my jeans. Her fingertips dip ever so slightly into the top, not in a sexual maneuver, but to anchor herself to me so I can’t walk away. She gives a tiny tug to get my attention, and my gaze meets hers.
“You made me a surrogate, and I accept,” she says.
I’m confused and my frown reflects that. “Come again?”
“You told me your story because you couldn’t tell Kyle. The one person you wanted and needed to tell—to apologize, to make amends to—but couldn’t because he died.”
