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Shaking her head quickly to rid herself of the fear, she swallowed. “I know.” She straightened in her chair and squared her shoulders. “It’s a reflex. I’m working on it.” She tried smiling, though she knew it didn’t reach her eyes.
She watched him bend and right his chair. Swiping his napkin from the floor, he sat in his chair and took another drink of wine.
“Where’s …” Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Where’s Nicholas now?”
Softly, she replied, “He’s dead.”
The air whooshed from his lungs, and he raked his hands through his hair. “How?”
She sat up a little straighter, toyed with a fork on the table, then laid her hand in her lap. “He was killed in a car accident five years ago.”
He locked eyes with her and saw the tears gather. He swallowed again, and his head tilted slightly to the side as he studied her.
“These tears aren’t for Nicholas.” She swallowed. “They’re for Vanessa. She was with him.”
David stood quickly and came to her chair. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She cried then, letting out the sorrow for all they had lost. Their youth. Time. Each other. And her sweet little girl. A life and a lifetime. His sniffs could be heard with hers, and somehow she knew this was a healing cry. He knew it all. Well, most of it, anyway. There were so many gory details that he simply didn’t need to hear. She’d lock them away with this sorrow and move forward—with or without David. But, she sure hoped it would be with him.
10
Of course, it had been stupid to go to a restaurant to have a conversation like that. He didn’t know the conversation would be so incredibly dark. To hear her call herself collateral damage tore at his heart. To hear of her torment and tormentor in such detail sickened him. Thinking of the vibrant woman he’d known to be a captive by a cruel, demented monster made him want to scream and pound his fists into something solid. To think of the pain and suffering. And the worst right now was he didn’t know how to deal with it.
And, if that weren’t enough, while she had said she was sorry, she didn’t say she was sorry she’d left him. She never said it was a mistake. So, now, here he sat in his home, wired to the max, unable to sleep, and only knowing that his heart was breaking again because he couldn’t move forward with Kiera. He tried so damn hard not to hope this could finally be their chance. He lectured himself, warned himself, but still, the gravitational pull between them was strong. His heart couldn’t withstand another loss so consuming that it would break him in two.
He sat with a thud on his sofa and scraped both hands through his hair. He rotated his head to loosen the muscles in his neck before they strangled him. The headache that had crept in during dinner was pounding away, and he feared it would never leave. He stomped to the master bathroom, pulled the first drawer to the left open and nabbed the bottle of aspirin. Spilling three into his hand, he tossed them back, filled the glass alongside the sink with water and downed the whole glass.
Entering the master bedroom, he stretched out across his bed and stared at the ceiling. Unfuckingbelievable.
The ringing from his cell phone woke him. At first, he didn’t know what the annoying sound was, but as the fog lifted from his brain, he reached into his pocket and pulled the irritant out and tapped the answer call icon.
“Yeah?” he groggily answered.
“Sorry, bad time? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, Gray. What’s up?” Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he purposely slowed his breathing and tried to focus on his friend.
“Sam reminded me that Leesa’s wedding is coming up in five short weeks, and we wanted to get her and Chris a special gift. Sam found a little custom metal art shop and thought we should have a piece of art made for them. So, other than the usual names, is there anything they both love that would mean a lot to them that we could have made?”
Pulling his feet onto the bed, his knees bent to help support his back; he huffed out a breath. “Uh, can I have a day to think on it? I’m a bit groggy right now.”
Silence for a moment. “David. What can I help you with? You don’t sound like yourself.”
Closing his eyes, he swallowed the new lump in his throat. “It’s her, Gray.” He cleared his throat. “Kiera. It’s her. My Kiera.”
“What?” Rustling sounded from the other end of the phone. “Shit.” The soft music in the background vanished. “Really?”
A forced chuckle sounded from his throat. “Yeah. Really.” He sat up, rubbing his back, then he stood and stretched. “We had dinner tonight, and she told me … everything. I’ll be honest; I don’t know how to handle it.”
“Hang tight, David, I’ll be right over.” As a good friend does, Gray ended the call, and David knew he’d be there at lightning speed.
He walked down the hall to the kitchen; the daylight had vanished into night. He glanced at the clock, nine-thirty. He’d been home for an hour. His headache was dull but present, and the knot in his stomach was growing.
When Gray knocked on the door, he had been sitting on his sofa staring off into space. Opening the front door, the concerned look on Gray’s face brought tears to his eyes. Shaking his head to ward off emotion, he turned and quickly walked to the kitchen. “Beer or wine?”
“Beer.”
Gray sat on the sofa, and David handed him a bottle of one of the designer beers Leesa had insisted he try. Looking at the bottle, his friend’s brows raised. “Walnut Hill?”
“Leesa.”
