“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? Did he shut her out because he felt like Dad would be alive if she hadn’t been…
Maybe. Maybe he did. And that was another wretched thing he had to apologize for.
“Evie, if I did, I’m sorry for that, too. I’m really sorry. Because I know you can’t backtrack and second-guess everything that leads to an accident. If you did, you’d never leave the house or get in your car. I asked Dad to take my shift, we went camping that night, your mom stored rags, and it was hot. That big porch collapsed, and a firefighter was in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one person is to blame.”
She processed all that for a moment, her shoulders sinking under his hands. “Then…why? Why not call me? Why not talk to me, Dec? For twenty years.”
He closed his eyes because the questions were fair…and the answers were unforgivable. But he ached for her forgiveness.
“Once so much time passed, it seemed futile. And in the beginning, for at least five or six years, I was so mad at…everything. I couldn’t go back to where we were…that night. Going back to you would be like getting some kind of prize I didn’t deserve.”
She stared at him, confusion darkening her eyes.
“I loved you, Evie.” His voice cracked with the admission, and he pulled her closer, feeling that she was as damp and shaky as he was. “I knew it that morning. I loved you. I was going to wait for you, marry you, have a family with you, and live like the happiest man on earth, and then…wham. Half an hour later, it was like God said, ‘Uh, not so fast, son.’”
“Oh, Dec.” She gave a sad, sad sigh. “So, you thought if you had reached out and…and loved me, then something bad would happen again?”
“I don’t know if it was that cut-and-dried. Maybe. I did see you, and every time, I freaking froze up. Like, you don’t bump into someone outside the hardware store and launch into ‘Oh, by the way, about this last ten years?’” He shook his head. “I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I’m not good with words.”
She stroked his arm. “You’re doing okay right now.”
The tenderness in her voice and gentle touch folded him in half. It was like she instinctively knew how to soothe and put a balm on the worst hurt and ease the pain. Just made it…go away.
“Look, we can analyze what went on in my head for twenty years, but I’d rather not.” He put both hands on her cheeks, holding her delicate face, forcing their gazes to lock. “Only three words matter now. I am sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
She exhaled softly as if the apology hit somewhere deep inside, but then took his hands and brought them to her lips. She kissed his knuckles and closed her eyes, and Declan felt washed with her forgiveness and a single tear that rolled down her cheek and onto his hand.
“You can’t take all the blame,” she whispered.
“Yeah, I can.”
“I could have tried harder to get to you. I could have picked up the phone a dozen or more times in twenty years. I could have shown up at the fire station and demanded your attention. I could have done something more than stammer when I saw you outside the hardware store or stare at you after Rusty’s surgery.”
“I left the waiting room like an asshole.” Why had he been so scared of talking to her?
“We were both afraid.” Of course she knew it was fear. She knew him so well. “So, yes, you froze me out. But I didn’t apply any heat to thaw you.”
He let that sink in, feeling things slip and slide into place for the first time in years. “Why didn’t you?” he asked.
“Because, deep down inside, I felt like I deserved your anger.”
“No, you—”
“Declan.” She
