Man's Best Friend (The Dogmothers #5) - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,52
height? Make sure you can reach it?”
She didn’t move for a long time, her hand still on his back making small circles, like she might on a wounded animal that needed nothing but compassion. “It was the worst hurt of my life.” The words were so soft, not much more than a whisper. But they hit like she’d slammed him over the head with one of those charred attic beams.
He’d hurt her. Of course he had. He knew that. But he never let himself think about how much. He was too worried about his own hurt.
“I mean, it was one thing to endure…the tragedy of it,” she continued softly. “The loss. The aftermath for my grandparents. And my parents’ decision to up and leave the country, which really kind of sucked, even though I was in college.”
He’d never even thought of that. He knew they moved away a few months after the fire, but her mom was always a little unconventional. Anyway, he’d been too wrapped up in his own grief to think about hers. Both her parents were alive—at least that’s how he rationalized his lack of empathy.
“It must have hurt,” he managed.
“But you…” She sighed, and her hand stilled. “Losing you was the saddest thing of all.”
He turned to face her, the tight space, the heat of the attic, and the faint scent of decades-old smoke infusing every breath.
“I’m sorry.” This time, the word carried a lot more weight than when he’d mumbled it a few seconds earlier.
As soon as he spoke, something shifted in his heart. No, it moved like a boulder, freeing up space he hadn’t even known was there.
He could feel her next breath. “Declan, I—”
He put a finger against her mouth, suddenly, desperately needing her forgiveness. Needing it like air or water or…love.
“I’m really sorry,” he said, a little louder. “Shutting you out was wrong and selfish and incredibly immature.”
She didn’t say a word, her eyes locked on him, the flashlight casting shadows on her face.
“I am so…” He put his hands on her shoulders to hold on, because it felt like a dam was breaking, and it might sweep him, or her, away. “Holy hell, I do not know what took me so long to say this. I was so wrong to do that to you, Evie. I shut you out and cut you off and…”
His eyes stung, and not from sweat. But he powered on, unafraid of the lump in his throat, because nothing, not one lousy tear, was going to stop this long-overdue apology. “I cannot believe I did that.”
“Why did you?”
“Because…”
“Please don’t say because you were an idiot. Please tell me the truth. I deserve the truth.”
“Yes, you do.” Sweat trickled down his temple, and a tear threatened at the corner of his eye. “But I’m not sure I can explain it without…a shrink.”
“Try.” There was so much plea and ache in the word, his heart twisted.
“Evie, I was in the blackest, ugliest place. For years, I barely made it through a day. I faked it half the time. It hurt so damn much to lose that man.” He looked down, riding a wave of grief so familiar, he didn’t notice when the waves came and went anymore. “I put all my focus on work and the family. I felt so responsible for…everything. My siblings, my mother, the whole thing became my job.”
“Were you angry with me?”
“Angry?” He drew back. “With you? Why would I be?”
“Because I was the one who wanted you to change your shift with your dad so we could go camping on our birthday.”
“I agreed to ask him. That wasn’t your fault.”
“You don’t, way down deep inside, blame me?”
He searched her face, sweat rolling down his temples now. “No,” he said.
“And you don’t blame my mother?”
“No more than I’d blame the person who leaves the Christmas lights on and there’s a short circuit. Accidents happen.”
“But if she hadn’t put those rags in a bucket when it was so hot outside, maybe…”
“They probably smelled and she didn’t want them in the studio. She didn’t realize that the sun would move and bear down on them. I don’t blame her, Evie.”
She swallowed hard. “I feel like that and the fact that I made you go that night always stuck in your head and you blamed me.”
Had he? Was that possible? He closed his eyes and marched down to that subterranean hellhole, trying to flip on the metaphorical lights so he could see the truth. Did he blame her?