Page 99 of Falling into Place
Her stomach dropped and she pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh no.” He’d texted her about Coach’s heart attack, and they’d talked pretty late last night after he’d decided to stay with him so Coach’s wife could get some sleep. She put her arms around him. “Was it ... were you there when he ...?”
He nodded.
“I’m so sorry.” She brushed a lock of his hair back. “What can I do? What do you need?”
“Nothing, don’t do anything. I’m sorry I stopped by like this and woke you up. I just, I don’t know. I just sort of ended up here.”
Her heart ached. “I’m glad you came. I’m sorry I didn’t hear your call, my phone was on silent. Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
He looked dead on his feet.
“Why don’t you come lie down? See if you can go to sleep here, with me?”
He nodded, shoulders relaxing. “Can I take a shower first?”
Fifteen minutes later he came out of her bathroom in just his boxer briefs, hair damp and shoulders red from the steady stream of hot water. Carly was in bed, waiting, her heart drifting in search of him. She’d peeked in to give him a fresh towel from the laundry room and the image of him standing there under the steam, head bowed and eyes closed, hands flat against the tile, would forever be burned in her memory.
He’d already lost his parents, and now, too, the man who seemed to have filled a role as a second father figure. How much more would he have to endure?
He stretched out beside her and they met in the middle, lying on their sides and weaving their arms and legs together. He buried his face in her hair and she pressed her lips to his chest. They remained that way in the silence for several long moments, breathing steadily in the somber silence.
Carly didn’t know how it felt to lose someone close to her. Her grandparents had passed when she was a baby, and she’d been lucky to not have dealt with the death of a loved one since. Everyone experienced it at one point or another, but some losses would hit harder than others. Some probably felt like a blow to the gut. How long did the pain linger? When did it fade to something manageable, only resurfacing on special dates like birthdays and holidays? Were some losses so deep the ache never truly went away?
He’d be hurting longer than the time they’d lie here together, but if being here with him could give him any measure of peace even for a moment, she’d stay here as long as it took.
He was still so long she wondered if he’d fallen asleep, but then his fingers fanned out across her back and his upper body shifted. His lips met her forehead and trailed down her cheek, coming to rest in a sweet kiss on her mouth. She kissed him back tentatively, unsure what his intention was, communicating as best she could that she was perfectly content in this moment just as it was.
Then he sucked her lower lip into his wet mouth and her stomach clenched. She opened her eyes and he pulled back a little, his gaze fierce and pleading. She tilted her face up, close enough for their lips to touch again, because if their roles were reversed, she might want him to help her forget, too.
Carly slowly emerged from sleep several hours later, stretching her limbs as her brain gradually came online. Her chest constricted at the memory from just a few hours prior.
Brooks, moving above her, inside her, holding her close with his face buried against her neck as he breathed words against her skin.
Please.
I love you.
Make it stop.
Three words uttered for the first time that should have made her heart burst with joy, but she wasn’t altogether sure he’d even realized what he was saying. He’d seemed outside himself, and in that moment she would have done anything for him, done anything to take away his hurt and make it stop.
“I love you,” she’d murmured into his hair, the words true and much easier to say than she’d imagined, but he’d seemed too far gone to hear.
She shivered, colder than usual when Brooks stayed over, and rolled over to find his side of the bed empty. Frowning, she ran a hand over the cool sheets and lifted onto her elbows to glance toward the bathroom. The light was off.
She slipped on a tank top and sweatpants and padded into the hallway, expecting to hear him in the kitchen or catch the hum of the television. But the TV was off and the kitchen was dark.
Maybe he went out for coffee? She had no idea how long ago he’d left, but that seemed like something he would do.
It was 10:00 a.m., just four hours after he’d shown up at her door. She’d sort of passed out after they slept together, her body and emotions spent. She’d thought he was in the same boat.
They’d fallen asleep together, right?
