Love By Accident (21 page)

Matt set his teeth. "This isn't the time for a visit. Can't you come back later?"

Gil sat up. "You need to talk to her, Matt."

"Now?" his voice rose girlishly and he cleared his throat and tried again. "Now?"

Gil smiled unabashedly. "Yes, now. The timing's perfect."

"No, Gil, the timing couldn't possibly suck any more. And don't you have someone else you can haunt?"

His friend rolled his eyes. "Calm your juvenile hormones and go back there and talk to her."

Matt glared. "I don't want to talk to her."

"I know." He stared at the wall as though he could see through it. "Trust me, the mood is broken anyway. Go back in there and ask her about me."

"You? This is a hell of a time for it to be about you."

"Look. She's refused to talk about me before now and you've let her, but trust me, this is a good time."

"To ask her what, exactly?"

"Things weren't as they seemed. You were too drunk to notice. Ask about that night."

Was it possible to punch a ghost? Matt wondered, grabbing a t-shirt from a drawer and yanking it on. 'Cause if it was, he wanted to give it a go. "Talk to her", he muttered, walking back into the living room.

It was filled with enough high-tech paraphernalia to keep him entertained. A widescreen TV, DVD and CD player, a Wii system. If he thought they'd distract Lauren, he'd use any or all of them. But he knew it was too late for distractions. She didn't have to say a word to know Gil was right. The mood was gone. He shot a look at the wall and hoped Gil could see his scowl from the other side.

Lauren was at the small fireplace and mantle that occupied one corner. She was staring at the pictures in various sized frames which competed for space on the narrow shelf.

Matt moved behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders. He knew by the direction of her gaze she was looking at a shot of the three of them buckled into their snowboards, arms slung across shoulders as they posed at the top of a run in Fernie, BC. The next one had Matt and Gil hamming it up in college, spread out on Lauren's pink duvet in her tiny dorm room.

"When did you bungee jump?" Lauren asked, looking at a foldable frame. One picture had Matt's ankles tied up with a thick rope and the one next to it showed him half-way through the jump. Only the black jeans and red shirt showed it was the same person.

"Last summer. I went out to the island for a holiday and stopped in Nanaimo. What a rush that was," he said, remembering the feel of free-falling and watching the rocks surge up from the canyon floor.

"I remember this," she said as a shot in a silver frame caught her attention.

It was a picture of all three of them slouched back on a couch in a local coffee shop in Waterton. Their hiking boots rested on the table in front of them, each pair scuffed from hours of use. They held up their Styrofoam cups in a toast. Matt was in the middle, surrounded by his best friends.

"It was the day before..."

Hell, Matt thought. No, he didn't want to hurt her, and he sure as hell didn't want to talk, but it was a hell of an opening to ignore.

"The day before the accident. Lauren," he took the photo from her and led her to the couch. "You loved Gil and he loved you. I know you miss him, but I get the feeling there's more."

She stiffened. He drew her cool hand between his.

"What happened? What are you scared of talking about?"

Lauren pulled on her hand, but Matt held firm. There was no running anymore. "Just talk to me, honey. Just talk."

"I can't, not with you holding me," she said.

He couldn't say he understood, but he let her go. She retreated to the other end of the couch, brought her knees up to her chest. From the corner of his eye he caught movement and he turned to see Gil sit in the chair. Matt's gaze jumped from Gil to Lauren, but it was as Gil had said, Lauren couldn't see him. Matt rolled his shoulders, relieved.

Gil motioned for Matt to continue.

"Lauren?" he prompted.

"Matt, I can't relive that night. It's not because I don't think about it, because no matter how much I try not to, it keeps haunting me. Sometimes it's just in sporadic memories, sometimes it comes to me in dreams, but I don't go one day, not one day, without thinking of Gil."

Her eyes filled and Matt wanted to leave her be, but he knew he couldn't. This had to come out for them all to heal and move on. And she'd said Gil's name aloud. They were finally getting somewhere.

"Have you ever been to his grave?"

She sniffed loudly and he passed her a Kleenex from the box sitting on the end table. She clutched it, without using it.

"No."

"Why not? I can see you not wanting to go the funeral, but at his graveside you'd be alone. You wouldn't have to face anybody."

She let the tears fall unfettered. "I'd have to face me and the fact that I put him there."

His heart broke and at the same time he felt shame. Hadn't he thought that himself several times in his darkest moments? That it was all Lauren's fault? Sure he'd come to realize differently, but it had crossed his mind.

But to see the anguish on her face, to hear it rattle on her voice, he knew the blame he'd directed at her, even for a short time, was nothing compared to what she directed at herself.

"It was an accident. You didn't do it on purpose." Oh God, he hoped not. Was that what Gil was trying to get him to find out? Matt shook his head. Hell, no. It wasn't possible. Lauren wasn't violent or mean-spirited. So then what was Gil trying so hard for Matt to learn?

"Doesn't matter, does it? It doesn't change the end result." She grabbed more tissues. "I wished, so many times to be able to trade places with one of you. If I could, I would have. I would have," she repeated, weeping into her hands.

Matt looked to Gil, and he too had tears in his eyes. Shit, Matt thought, feeling his own prick with moisture.

"I'm glad you can't, honey. I can't explain why, but it happened this way for a reason."

Her head shot up and her red-rimmed eyes faced him. "Gil's dead because of me, Matt, and saying it was meant to be doesn't change that!"

"Shit, Lauren, Gil wouldn't blame you. It was an accident."

Matt turned to Gil for confirmation and his friend nodded. Whew, he'd been afraid there for a moment.

Matt moved closer to Lauren, placed his hand on her bent knee. "Gil loved you, he wouldn't want you beating yourself up like this."

Her sobs racked her body and left Matt shaken and unsure what to do next. He rubbed her knee, wishing he could take away her pain. But he didn't know how.

Finally her sobs eased and she wiped most of the tears away with her hand.

"He didn't love me."

Matt's head snapped like he was punched on the chin. "What the hell kind of shit is this? Of course he did."

Lauren shook her head. "No, he didn't. He told me so."

Matt cut his gaze to Gil. He was gone. Fuck! He had some explaining to do the next time he "popped" in.

"When did Gil say that?"

Her chin trembled. "It doesn't matter, Matt."

"Damn right it does, because he never told me anything about not loving you anymore."

Her eyes met his, the sadness in them drenched him.

"Can we not talk about this anymore tonight?" The tissues were wet and soggy in her hands. "Please?"

His hands scraped his face in frustration. How the bloody hell could she drop a bombshell like that on him and then ask him not to talk about it? And where the fuck had Gil run off to?

Nevertheless she looked beat and the dark circles under her eyes gave him pause. She couldn't take any more. Not tonight. Sighing, Matt pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her. He cuddled her to his chest, rested his chin on her hair. She clung to him, hands tightly fisted in the opening of his shirt.

Matt continued to hold her until she fell asleep, exhausted and wrung out. Then, lifting her into his arms, he carried her to his bed.

***

He cradled his mug of coffee and stared out his living room window. It was a dark night, no moon to cast a soft glow over the town. Street lights lined the roads and the occasional car's headlights swung across the yards. It was a night for snuggling in front of a TV, for sharing a hot meal over a small table and discussing the day's events.

Instead he was standing alone, Lauren still asleep in his bed. Dammit. They should be in there together, naked and sweaty, rolling across his king-sized bed.
Stupid Gil
, Matt thought, for the thousandth time. Talk to her, get her to tell you everything, he'd said.

Sensing Lauren, he turned and watched her shuffle into the kitchen. Her hair was mussed, her clothes wrinkled. He hadn't bothered turning on any lights, only the small bulb over the stove was on. It didn't conceal her paleness.

"You didn't sleep long," he spoke from the window, not sure how to approach her at the moment. Would she want his touch, or did she need some space? When she didn't move any closer he knew the answer. Damn.

"I made coffee and I set up the hide-a-bed," he gestured to the couch he'd opened. "I can sleep out here, you can have my room."

Lauren's lips curved but not enough to call it a smile. "I need to go home, Matt. But thanks."

Now he moved, leaving his mug on the mantel as he passed it.

"Why? It's late and it's cold. I can drive you home in the morning." Because he needed to connect with her, he cupped her cheek.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Matt. I really am, but all I can think of right now is Gil."

Matt's stomach nosedived. The splatter reverberated in his ear. "Gil?"

She dropped her gaze to her socked feet. "I've been fighting memories, Matt. And today, when I rode my bike, I could have sworn I..."

He lifted her chin. "You could've sworn what?"

"Nothing, it was nothing. But the point Matt, is it's all coming back, and it's overwhelming. I need to think, to sort it out." She backed away. "I'm not making sense, I know. That's why I need to go. I need to be alone."

"Lauren, please don't walk away from me. We've made up so much ground. We can deal with this, but we need to talk, to lean on each other."

She swallowed visibly. "I know it looks like I'm running right now, but I'm not. Please just give me some time."

She grabbed her jacket from the chair and pulled it on. God, he wanted to believe all she needed was time, and then she'd be back in his arms. But he was scared. So damn afraid that when she did decide to talk to him again, it would be to say she couldn't be with him after all, that her heart was still with Gil.

And here he'd thought his days of coming in second were over.

SEVENTEEN

"Lauren, I never meant for you to find out like that."

Lauren shoved the car into reverse, pushed her foot down hard on the gas. The tires spun on the snow before the winter tread caught and the car jerked backward. Luckily most people had gone home so the yard was mostly clear and she didn't hit anything. She shifted into drive, followed the long driveway that led to the highway.

"How had you planned for me to find out, Gil? With a note? A taped confession, maybe? You should have just told me, you son-of-a-bitch."

"Calling each other names isn't going to help."

"Speak for yourself," she muttered as she slowed at the end of the driveway. Seeing there were no cars coming, Lauren pulled onto the highway. The night was pitch black, no stars no moon. No oncoming cars. Lauren flicked her lights to bright. The beam caught the billows of snow blowing from one side of the road to the other. Black ice. Just what she needed.

"Lauren, I screwed up, I'm sorry."

Lauren's hands clenched the wheel. "Yeah, you really sound sorry."

"What do you want from me?"

"To sound like you're actually sorry, and not just relieved that your lies are finally out in the open."

Gil looked over his seat to Matt. Lauren knew what he was thinking. It wasn't all out in the open, not yet.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, but Lauren, even you have to admit we haven't been getting along lately. Shit, we hadn't slept together in weeks, Lauren."

Her eyes cut to his. "Don't even go there, not now."

Lauren shot up in bed, her heart hammering and the argument echoing in her head. Gil.

Drawing her blankets tightly under her chin, Lauren lay back down. She'd come from Matt's last night and had sat with a cup of hot chocolate, her mind blank. It was as though she had so much to remember, to consider, she didn't know where to begin.

Repressing memories, hiding from the truth. If there was an Olympic medal for it, she'd win gold. She should teach a course, "How to block out the past and pretend everything's fine when it isn't". And it wasn't.

She'd tried, with limited degrees of success, to put Gil's memory aside. Their relationship had ended horribly and then, in the same evening, her actions had taken his life. There'd been too much to deal with. Gil, Matt, everything. But Matt was here and he could walk. They'd put the past behind them. It was time she did the same with Gil.