Page 2 of Come Back To Me
“Because I’m not here with you anymore.”
“What?” Something claws at my chest, and my eyes are stinging.
“I’m dead. You’re dreaming.”
“No . . .” I reach for him, but he keeps slipping further away. My eyes snap open to a dark room, and someone’s patting my sweaty hair, resting a hand on my arm.
“Shh. It’s okay. It’s a bad dream. You’re having a bad dream. I’m right here,” a voice whispers, but it’s not the one I need to hear.
“Gareth?” My voice strains.
A light turns on and Leo is frowning down at me. “No. It’s me. Gareth is . . . he’s gone, remember? We had his funeral yesterday.”
Ah, right. The funeral. Is it possible to have a bad dream when nothing is worse than your current reality?
“Are you sure I’m not still asleep?” My chest tightens, eyes heavy.
“I’m sure.” His brows meet and he takes my hand. “I wish I could do more, Riley. I really do. If I could make this all go away and bring you out of it, I would.”
I force a smile. Sitting up, I pull him into an embrace, whispering against his nape. “You’re already doing more for me than you realize by just being here.”
“And I always will be. Know you can crash in my guest room for as long as you want.”
“Thanks, but I’d hate to intrude, and I’ll need to go home to face the music eventually.”
“How about I come over for a sleepover this weekend like old times? We can watch movies, eat too much sugar, and stay up way too late gossiping?”
“Yeah.” I smile into his skin and slowly lift my head to meet his eyes. “I’d like that.”
“Good, because it was either you agreed or I showed up unannounced with a box of pastries in my arms.”
I stifle a laugh and wonder if I’ll ever feel the joy behind the action again? People say time heals all wounds, but the gaping hole in my heart only threatens to get deeper.
Two
Riley
I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. The smiling photos on the wall mock me. I’d never imagined myself being on the wrong side of them. It’s been a week since the funeral and each day moves in slow motion. The minutes feel like hours and I keep looking at the clock, wishing it would go faster. A laugh crawls up my throat when I think about a joke Gareth made once . . . “Too bad time machines don’t exist because if they did, I could go back and kiss you for the first time all over again.”
He’d smiled so cheekily when he said it too. My face falls when I realize how long it’s been since he said sappy words like that to me. Things had been a little strained between us, and that’s why we’d been taking a trip out to his dad’s cabin. We needed time for us again, and work had been getting in the way of that lately—his more than mine.
So many late nights at the office after his promotion meant so many dinners alone. It’s almost as if our last months together were preparing me for this. I straighten out the frames on thewall and stand back, looking at each one again. We took one every year. It was always a different location. I was as happy as I look, and I felt like he was too until that last photo.
I touch his hesitant smile, my heart squeezing when I see the way he seemed like he was somewhere else other than with me. There was a wider gap between us and his body language was all wrong. Were we on our way to being the end of us, and fate just sped up the process?
At least if he were alive, we’d have a chance to fix it and recreate those good photos again. That can’t happen now. My shoulders slump and I run a hand through my hair. The house is so quiet it’s loud, and I can’t stand being surrounded by it all day. I’m not ready to go back to work but at the same time I am.
How do other people make it through? I’m not the only one who’s lost a husband, and I need to stop acting like I died in that wreck too. Although a part of me feels like it did. My phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s Leo calling.
Answering it, I place the phone to my ear. “Hey,” I push out.
“Hey. Whatcha up to?”
“Not much.” I shuffle in place, looking down at the box of Halloween decorations I forgot I was supposed to be hanging up.
“Want to go see a horror flick with me?”
“How old are you again?” I snort. “Who the heck calls them flicks anymore?”
