Page 63 of The Mechanics of Lust

He was right about that.“True, but in this last month, I’ve learned so much more. I’ve learned that you’re a generous lover, a kind man, and a loyal friend. There’s a lot to like about all of that.”

Zach scrutinised my face like he was looking for the lie that wasn’t there. I waited for him to change the subject, or shut me down, or look away. But he didn’t do any of those.

Instead, he said, “I think I know you pretty well too.”

A tingle ran down my back. “Is that so?”

Zach traced a fingertip down my nose. “You are also a good man and a loyal friend. I know that from watching you with Gil, much as I admit that does tend to run against the tide of my earlier opinions. I think that I maybe needed a bad guy at the time, and you got the most votes... sorry.”

I held his gaze. “No need. I think it was that stubborn, pissy attitude of yours that first drew me to you, as it happens.”

Zach rolled his eyes. “I’ll have to add that to my Grindr profile.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You have a Grindr profile?”

Zach laughed. “As if.”

I fought the urge to punch the air. “Okay, so what else do you think you know about me?”

“You really want to hear?” He raised a brow. “Even if it’s about Callie?”

The notion gave me pause, but my answer didn’t need much thought. “Yeah. I do. I trust your instincts.” And I did. Go fucking figure.

Zach’s eyes widened in surprise. “Okay then.” He fell onto his back and I stayed propped up on my elbows, watching him. “Well, I think there’s a lot more going on inside that head of yours than you let on. No surprise there. I think you hide your pain behind jokes and work and sex, and this little warm bubble of guilt you’ve created for yourself.” He shot me an apologetic look. “Not so different to what you thought I was doing, right? You feel guilty that you couldn’t stop any of what happened, just like Gil does. You might not have been in the car, but you still think you could’ve stopped it, somehow. You both struggle putting the blame where it belongs—with the other driver—you just deal with it differently.”

I couldn’t have moved if I tried, my gaze riveted to Zach’s as he calmly and gently laid my soul out under the Mackenzie sky.

He eyeballed me. “And I don’t believe either of you had it easier or harder. According to Gil, grief works its way through each person uniquely. Thereisno comparison. And that got me thinking about my dad and wondering if it’s the same for everyone. That maybe it’s not grief that does you in, but the guilt that seems to accompany it no matter what you’re grieving for. All the could-haves and should-haves and wonderings that fuck you up. And I think that if you can’t find a way to put that aside or at least not let it eat you up quite so much, then you can’t move on.” He reached up a hand and cupped my face. “And maybe that’s why Callie’s memories are stuck in that last day. Maybe she’s waiting for you to let go of it.”

I tried to swallow past the squeeze in my throat, but it was too tight, a sourness building at its back. “I—” But the words wouldn’t come and I spun away, blinking back the tears that filled my eyes at an alarming rate. I wrapped my arms around my legs and dropped my chin to my knees, fighting for control.

Callie was gone. Still gone.Alwaysfucking gone.

Another change of season without her. Another autumn. Another winter. Another list of the things she loved and hated and all the ways she’d filled my life,ourlives.

How many more seasons until it didn’t hurt? Until I didn’t feel buried in the hole she’d left behind.

Please, no more tears.I was so done with fucking tears.

The lake rippled from a fresh lick of a wind, its silver surface now gloomy under a clouding sky. My eyes locked on the small shadow of Motuariki Island as I fingered the band around my wrist and tried to breathe. In and out. In and out. It was nothing I hadn’t heard before, hadn’t talked about with Gil, hadn’t thought about myself, didn’t already know. But Zach’s tender words had hit home in a way nothing else had before and I felt stripped raw.

“Hey.” Zach’s arm slid around my waist as he sat beside me and drew me close, his head resting against mine. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said all that. Don’t listen to me. What do I know?”

All I could manage was a shudder.

“Damn.” Zach kissed the side of my head. “Me and my big mouth.”

I almost laughed. “I happen to like your big mouth.” And as I said it, somewhere in the back of my brain, a wall crumbled, and two and a half years of pain washed through the jagged rent and ripped through my heart to come out in a gulped cry.

“Oh, fuck.” Zach pulled me back down onto the tarp and crushed me against him. “Hey, it’s okay.” His leg hooked over my thigh, his smaller frame enveloping mine in a tight hold that left me nowhere to go.

Nowhere except into that place I’d spent two and half years running away from. The place where I should’ve been home that day. Where I blamed Gil. Where I should’ve stayed with him so that we could help each other. Where I didn’t walk away and leave him to cope with what had happened on his own. Where I was a better man, a better father, a stronger person. Someone who would’ve known what to do. Who wouldn’t have run like a coward. Who might’ve been able to offer Gil a firm footing when things went scary in his head.

I thought I’d come to peace with a lot of it, sorted the truth from the wallowing, undeserved guilt, but it didn’t seem to matter. Understanding it and living it were two different things, and Zach had seen through my glass house when no one else had in a long while.

Zach rocked us together while I trembled in his arms, my body wracked by choked sobs and soft cries. He kissed the tears from my cheeks. “It’s just us here, sweetheart. It’s only us.”

Which was just as well since I couldn’t seem to stop. “Jesus, I’m s-so s-sorry,” I said brokenly between gulps of air. “I don’t even know why—”

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