Page 1 of Words I Couldn't Say
HER WEAKENED KNEES BUCKLED UNCEREMONIOUSLYunder the weight of her grief, sending her waif-like frame into a crumpled heap on the floor next to his bedside. What should have still been his bedside. But never again would he rest in that spot on the mattress, next to her, holding her, loving her.
The anguish piercing her soul plummeted it to depths unimaginable. How could she go on after this? How could she continue to live in this newly empty world when she’d just buried her heart? How could she breathe without the only man she’d ever loved, especially after having just found him again? How could she do any of it without him by her side, holding her hand, holding her heart?
It was simple. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. But how could she not?
The confliction in her heart was incomprehensible. She wanted to be with him, whether that was in life or in death, but she knew, he’d never forgive her if she forced their afterlife reunion to come before the fates had decided that it was time for them to meet again.
Abigail’s shoulders convulsed as sobs racked her petite body. The sound of her cries echoed in the empty room, and that was exactly how she felt. Empty. Barren. A desolate, hollow shell of the happiness that had once consumed her.
However long she remained there, on the ground, unfeeling, unmoving, she wasn’t aware. But, eventually, the tears she’d shed exhausted her into a sleepy daze. She slowly rose and pushed the covers back, crawling into the space in which he’d so recently slept, peacefully even in the wake of his impending demise. Even knowing he would soon draw his last breath, he had continued to smile, showering her in the magnitude of his love and his laughter, and not for a single second had she seen him shed a tear. That was her Trevor. Strong until the end, even when his body had been weakened beyond repair.
The moment she rested her head on his pillow, another surge of hot tears threatened behind the blues of her eyes as the scent of his favorite soap hit her senses. A fresh wave of grief crested and crashed all around her, just like her life had done in the past few days.
Abigail knew that Trevor wouldn’t want this for her, and she knew, in the depths of her soul, she had to get herself together. She blinked once, then twice, taking deep, slow, and steady breaths, struggling to prevent herself from enduring another bout of hyperventilation that would likely bring an unwanted panic attack on. The last thing she wanted—and, inversely, the only thing she wanted—was to spend another night medicated because she couldn’t get past the turmoil of her grief. Her throat tightened as she forced herself to admit that truth in her head. The more she did so, perhaps the easier it would be to accept.
Trevor was gone.
Her husband, the love of her life, her one true soul mate, was gone.
Easier? She was kidding herself. The finality of those words did little to alleviate her pain, no matter how many times she repeated them in her head. She knew he’d hate to see her like this. Heck, he’d as much as said so time and time again. The one thing, perhaps the only thing, that would help were his final words.
Tired eyes swam with tears as memories of his last request hit her. His frail hand, once large and tanned from hours spent on the baseball field, had unexpectedly cradled hers. The sensation had shocked her; the realization that Trevor was fading fast had suddenly become so much more real. His skin had been cold and clammy, and instead of enveloping her delicate fingers like he used to, he’d simply rested his thinned-out ones on the top of her palm.
“Abigail.” Once booming and boisterous, his voice had now been a mere whisper, another devastating sign of the weakness due to his losing battle with cancer that had set upon him swiftly and cruelly.
Even though Abigail wanted nothing more than to burst into tears at the sight of her love wilting away, she swallowed them down and set her chin, not wishing to cause Trevor any more pain or regret. She knew he’d already blamed himself for all the time they’d lost when they’d been apart. There was no need for her to add to his guilt. So, instead, she gave him a tremulous smile and reassuringly squeezed his hand.
“Yes, Trevor?”
“You know I love you?” he croaked. There was a finality in his voice she wasn’t prepared for, sinking her heart to depths she’d never experienced but soon would.
She leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to his mouth. “I love you, Trevor. Always,” she whispered against his cracked lips. When she pulled back, she gasped at the raw torment in his dulled, blue eyes.
“It’s almost time,” he murmured.
“Trevor…” she trailed off. What could she say? He wasn’t wrong, even if she didn’t want to admit it.
“It’s okay, Abigail. I’m ready.” He let out a small laugh that promptly became a coughing fit.
She helped him take a sip of water from a cup on his nightstand. When he calmed down, his eyes returned to her.
“I mean, I’ll never be ready to leave you, but we both know this is inevitable, and I’m tired of fighting. Of hurting. And of hurting you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but the slight shake of his head stopped her.
“Abigail, I’m the luckiest man in the world for having the time with you that I did. I regret so many things, but I can die a happy man knowing I loved you. That you loved me in return. I need to know you’ll be okay. That you’ll go on. I can’t stand the thought of you spending your life grieving. Promise me, Abigail.”
She nodded, but he didn’t buy it. He knew she was only telling him what he wanted to hear. That was his Abigail. Which is why he had to insist.
“Promise me you’ll still smile. Promise me you’ll still laugh. Promise me you’ll still live, Abigail. Live for you. Live for me. Live for the both of us.”
She hesitated, and that’s when he used the trump card. He knew that it was unfair—probably cruel, even—but he had no other choice.
“Promise me, sweetheart. Because, if I have to die without the reassurance that you’ll continue to be the beautiful, vibrant, full-of-life woman I fell in love with, then I can’t die a happy man. I need this. Please. Promise me.”
Their eyes were locked in on each other, and they held their gazes for long, excruciatingly silent moments before Abigail once again leaned forward to kiss him. Her pale-blue irises met his, and she prayed that her strength would hold, even when all she wanted was to curl up against him and sob. He was strong for her. She could do the same in return. So, with a shaky smile, she agreed.
