Love Restored (11 page)

What the
hell
had just happened?

“Who was that?” Candice asked.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn’t have time for this, and frankly, hadn’t had time years before when Candice had been standing in his other home. The home they’d once shared together. They’d sold that place during the divorce—memories too deep, too painful for either of them to keep it.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be the shrill ex-wife. It doesn’t flatter either of us.”

“I’m not shrill.”

“The fact you have to defend being shrill or not proves the point.”

Candice let out a huff of breath. “No, it doesn’t. And calling each other names isn’t going to help the situation.”

He whirled on her. “And what
is
the situation? You come here out of nowhere, during a month that I truly don’t want to see your face, and act like you’re entitled to be here.”

“We were in love. We were
married
. We had a
daughter
.”

“All in past tense, Candice.”

Her eyes widened, and his stomach revolted. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to even think it.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean… Fuck! I miss Cynthia every day and every minute I breathe. She is part of every fucking thing I do, Candice. And the fact that I feel that way, and the fact that until recently
you
decided to try and forget her, doesn’t mean you have a right to be here. Don’t look at me like that; you tossed her shit in a box because it made you cry. What about me? Huh? What if I wanted to see her face when I woke up in the morning in that damn picture? I didn’t have my kid, but I damn well wanted to see her face in any way I could. We grieved differently, and it broke us. You left, Candice. Why couldn’t you stay gone?”

His chest heaved after he’d finished, his heart racing, his lungs aching. She just stared at him, tears in her eyes, as if he’d hit her. And he hadn’t, damn it. He’d never laid a hand on the woman who had broken him further when he’d thought he was already far more than broken. She’d walked away just as he had because there had been nothing left between them. They’d fallen out of love, and hadn’t even liked each other in the end. Though the divorce had been wanted on both sides and not contested, it still burned that he’d lost that part of his life when he’d lost Cynthia.

He closed his eyes at the thought of his daughter’s name. He’d lost his baby girl, and still didn’t know how to talk about it. His brothers didn’t mention her; neither did the friends who had been with him back then. It didn’t seem fair to the child he’d lost that he wouldn’t even mention her in passing, but he thought about her. Daily. He thought about how old she’d be now, what she’d be learning in school, what sport she’d play if she felt like it. He’d wanted her to reach her teens so they could fight like every other parent and child he knew. He wanted to see her grow up and find her independence as it clashed with his need to parent. He wanted to stay up late, watching the clock as he waited for his daughter to come home after hanging out with her friends, or hell, from her first date.

He wanted to walk her down the aisle and give her away to someone who would never be good enough but would be perfect for her anyway.

Because that’s what fathers did.

And he’d never have that chance. Never have another breath of fresh air next to the daughter he loved with all of his heart. With a twist of fate, he’d lost his baby girl, and part of his soul with her.

He and Candice hadn’t been strong enough to weather the storm together, and he’d be damned if he spent the anniversary of Cynthia’s death dealing with the one woman he never wanted to see again.

“You need to go, Candice,” he said after a few moments of silence. She hadn’t said anything back to him after he’d yelled, after he’d told her he wanted nothing to do with her.

Because she truly hadn’t changed since she’d left. She didn’t like dealing with the hard things, and instead, would hide behind tears and incriminating silences until someone took care of her. He’d never actually faulted her for that because, frankly, sometimes he wanted to do that, as well. But he wasn’t going to deal with her anymore.

That chapter of their lives was over because God had decided that Graham didn’t need a child anymore. Candice was just going to have to deal with it.

“I think I should stay,” his ex-wife said after a moment. “I don’t think you should be alone this month.”

He whirled on her but did his best to keep his anger in check. “I’m not alone. I have my brothers, and hell, the entire Montgomery clan if I snap my fingers.
They
are here for me without an agenda, without a need to comfort
them
when I want to crawl up the walls.” He sighed and moved toward her.

Her eyes widened, wet from her tears. Her face had gone pale except in the cheeks where she’d reddened from crying.

When he stood right in front of her, not touching, and with no real need to move any closer, he looked into her eyes and shook his head.

“You can’t stay here, Candice. And, honey, you don’t want to. Don’t you get that? Being here won’t help you grieve, won’t help you do what you need to in order to heal. It didn’t work when we were married and falling apart, and it won’t work now. Go to your friends, to your parents. Be with them, because being with me didn’t work for you before and it’s not going to work now.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know that.”

He did what he hadn’t wanted to do and cupped her face. A look of hope sprang to her eyes, but he knew it wasn’t for him. Rather, it was for the fact that she had another person to touch, to touch her. Candice hadn’t changed in the years since high school. She hated being alone, hated not having another human near her. So when the world fell out from beneath her feet, she’d clung to whoever was closest. She’d latched on to him, and he’d let her because he’d been grieving, too. And when he hadn’t grieved like she wanted, like she’d thought she needed, she’d gone back to her family and friends that weren’t his to cling to.

The fact that she was here now told him she was at wits’ end. Like him, she was so damn lost when it came to not having their daughter in their lives anymore that she was back, trying to find a shred of who they were before the world had crashed down around them.

Only he wasn’t that man anymore. Never would be again.

“You need to go home, Candice. Go to your parents’ house. Find solace there because you’re not going to find it here. You didn’t before, and I’m not going to help you find it with me now. I can barely breathe without thinking of Cynthia. I can’t do this with you here. I’ll end up doing everything in my power to make sure you’re taken care of, but in the end, you’ll never be fully okay. I won’t either, and I don’t think we
should
be a hundred percent. Not anymore. We don’t have that right. You need to go. You can’t grieve here because you won’t let me grieve the way I need to. Yeah, that makes me a bastard, but for once, I’m going to try and take care of myself.”

He paused as she closed her eyes.

“And if I thought for once being together as we reach the anniversary would help, I might change my mind. But you don’t want me, Candice. You haven’t for years. You don’t want me by your side because we aren’t the people we once were, and it’s not healthy to even try. So go home and stay there. We lost our baby, lost our daughter, and she’s never coming back. But you being here isn’t going to help, isn’t going to bring Cynthia home. So go.”

She pulled away from him and wiped her face. This time, when her face reddened again, it wasn’t from tears but from embarrassment. And maybe a little anger.

“You’re still as cruel as you were when she died,” she spat. Her words hit the mark, and he told himself to let them come. She didn’t mean them, not really. Oh, she might mean them right now, but in the grand scheme, she was hurting as he was, and he was just an easy target. He always had been for her.

“Go home, Candice,” he repeated. “There’s nothing for you here.” There hadn’t been for a long while.

She turned on her heel and went to the front door. When she paused as she put her hand on the doorknob, he braced himself for her words once more. He didn’t hate his ex-wife, he never had, but he was growing weary.

“I’m not sorry I came,” she said softly, not turning to look at him. He was glad for that, as he truly didn’t want to see whatever emotions might be lacing that gaze of hers. He could only take so much without breaking again, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he’d put himself together the right way before. He was in danger of crumbling again. “I’m not sorry I came,” she repeated after a moment. “But I am sorry if I hurt that other woman.”

His eyes widened, surprised that she’d bring up Blake after all of this. His thoughts might have been on Cynthia and Candice during the exchange, but Blake had never been far from his mind. He’d have to figure out how to fix things with her because he’d sure as hell let things get fucked up with just one conversation on his porch. He wasn’t sure he wanted to let Blake walk away that easily, but first, he needed to get Candice on her way. She would leave soon, he thought, because she had nothing else for her here. He’d have thought she would have realized that long before now, but sometimes, grief mucked things up.

“Goodbye, Candice.” He didn’t want to talk about Blake with her. Not now, and hell, not ever. Whatever happened with him and Blake wasn’t for Candice, and that was something his ex-wife would just have to deal with.

She sighed audibly, her shoulders hunching for a moment before she rolled them back and opened the door. When she closed it behind her, Graham didn’t relax, not even when he heard her car start up and pull out of the driveway.

While he was relieved she was gone, she’d brought a storm of memories and feelings he’d rather keep buried with her, and then left them behind. Of course, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to keep them buried in his mind since they were coming up on the anniversary so he couldn’t be
too
angry with her for that.

He could, however, be pissed off at the situation in general. He’d fought with himself over being with Blake in the first place, and now he would have to figure out how to get her back.

He wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he had a feeling he’d have to tell her exactly what had happened with Candice. And that meant opening old wounds that had been barely scabbed over to begin with.

He would do it, though. Not just because he had to, but also because it wasn’t fair to Cynthia to keep her in the dark of his memories for so long. She deserved more. Maybe this was another form of healing, or maybe this was him trying to move on. Either way, he owed Blake an explanation, and he just hoped he could give her the time to figure it all out.

Though he knew he should call her right away, he put it off for just a bit. He cleaned up the mess he’d made before Candice had shown up and then finished the laundry. His body still ached from his day on the job, and while he probably should go to bed soon, he knew he couldn’t until he’d heard Blake’s voice. Even if it were just voicemail—if she ignored his call.

After a little over an hour, he knew he’d waited long enough. He rubbed a hand over his face and pulled out his phone. In the long run, it might be easier to
not
call Blake and ignore everything that had happened, letting things run their course. But something told him it would never be that easy. He was working on the home she’d grown up in—and that was something he needed to find out more about, as there were secrets there; things that lay between them. She also worked at Montgomery Ink so there would be no true avoidance of her. Not to mention, she was becoming friends with his future sister-in-law. And every time he’d tried to push her from his mind in the past, she’d shown up again anyway. Like at the hockey game, the shop, and even the damn grocery store. If he didn’t call and try to make things right, he
knew
he’d see her once again, and things would just get worse.

So he dialed her number and took a breath, hoping he wasn’t making yet another mistake.

When she picked up, he let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Graham.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, and that scared him more than if she’d cursed his name. Hell, he’d rather have heard anger or sadness because those were things he could find a way to work with, to apologize and atone for. And yet, this Blake with the cold voice—or on the edge of warm, he just wasn’t sure—told him he’d fucked up more than he thought.

“Blake,” he whispered back, then cleared his throat. “I was afraid you weren’t going to pick up.”

A pause. “I was afraid I wasn’t going to either.” Another pause. “I was at Maya’s. She called me as I was leaving your place.”

He sat down on the back of his couch and folded one arm over his chest as he listened. “Everything okay with her?”

The fact that his soon-to-be sister-in-law was pregnant scared the crap out of Graham, even as he was so overjoyed about the prospect of a niece or nephew, he couldn’t quite put it into words. This baby would be the second Gallagher of its generation, though with Cynthia gone, the eldest living. He wasn’t sure how he felt about all of that, other than that he couldn’t wait to see Jake as a father. There were more important things than his own grief, Graham knew that, though the ache in his heart would always be there, even as time moved on around him.

And that was why he needed to tell Blake everything, to explain who he was, even if he didn’t truly understand. Not anymore.

“She’s great,” Blake said, her voice a little warmer. “I think she was just a little lonely since the guys were going on their date tonight. And I think she wanted to spin me into her web of friends or something.”

Though his heart hurt from what he’d put it through in the past couple of hours, he chuckled at the thought. “That sounds like Maya.” He sighed. “Will you come back over? Let me explain?”

She was silent for long enough that he was afraid he’d made yet another mistake. “I can do that,” she said softly. “I’m actually sitting outside Maya’s house on my phone since I was just leaving when you called. I’m sure she’s pacing in there as she moves the blinds around to see me.”