Collide (Collide, #1)(27)

“No, it’s Gavin. Gavin Blake,” he deadpanned, reaching for a beer from a six-pack on the floor. “Although, in certain private one-on-one situations, I’ve been referred to as God,” he laughed.

With an unladylike snort, Emily laughed with him. “You’re too much.”

“Aren’t I though?”

“Yes, very,” she replied and then turned back to the door. “I didn’t realize this was a connecting balcony. I’ll let you have your privacy.”

“By all means, stay and have a beer with me.”

With the mildest of trepidations, she made her way over to him. He popped a beer open for her. “Thank you,” she replied, accepting it and sinking into a chair beside him.

“You’re very welcome. So what brings you out on the balcony in the wee hours of the night?”

“You can’t hear that?”

Gavin’s brows knitted in confusion as he looked around. “Uh, I hear the waves.”

“Then you’re lucky,” she sighed. “Cause I can still hear Dillon snoring.”

“Ah, I see,” he laughed, propping his feet on a small outdoor ottoman. “Us men do know how to knock it out of the ballpark when it comes to that.”

Emily shook her head and took a sip of her beer. “I’ve tried everything short of smothering him to death to get him to stop.”

Quirking a brow, Gavin smiled. “Hmm, not a bad idea. You’d be available then.”

“Be nice,” she laughed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he clipped, and Emily shook her head.

A few minutes went by as they listened to the waves rolling in the distance. The sky was clear with a magnificent view of the stars as a cool, summer breeze skirted its way across the balcony.

“So I didn’t see you go down to the water today,” Gavin remarked, reaching for another beer. He popped the top off and tossed it into a terracotta pot that held quite a few bottle caps. “Do you not like the beach?”

“Actually, I love the beach.” She drew in a deep breath as her gaze slid from his out to the water. “Some of my best memories of my mom come from endless days spent on the beach with her.”

Heaviness settled in Gavin’s chest. He knew her mother passed away. When they were at the club, he wanted to say something to her but felt it was inappropriate to do so unless she brought it up. He continued to stare at her, struggling to find the right words.

He shifted his body to face hers. “I’m very sorry about what you had to go through, losing her,” he finally stated softly.

Drawing her knees up under her chin, she looked to him. “Thank you.”

His voice was low and cautious as he gazed into her eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to hear about the memories you have of her on the beach.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. “Really?”

He nodded and smiled back. “I’d be honored.”

She took a minute to compose her thoughts. “Well, when I was a kid, she’d save all year long, so we could visit Santa Cruz, California. She’d rent a little condo right on the beach, and we’d literally spend the entire day outside. We’d fly kites for hours on end and ride our bikes on the boardwalk.” She paused and smiled. “She used to love making sand angels, like the ones you make in the snow when you lie on your back.” She let out a light laugh at the memory and wiped a tear from her eye.

“Emily, I…” Gavin whispered. She looked at him. “My intentions weren’t meant to upset you. Please…I apologize.”

“They’re…good tears, Gavin. I haven’t talked about her in a while. Really, you didn’t upset me.”

Her words left Gavin awestruck. He searched her eyes and found traces of happiness mixed with incalculable loss. It melted his heart. He longed to run his fingers through her hair and console her; he wanted to hold her in his arms and rid her of the pain. “They sound like wonderful memories,” he whispered.

“Yeah, they are,” she replied, staring straight ahead. “It was hard seeing her sick for so many months, but to tell you the truth, when she took her last breath, a wave of relief washed over me. She was finally at peace.” Wiping another tear away from her eye, Emily looked at him and then averted her gaze out to the ocean. “There was a point I’d actually hoped that I would wake up and find out she was gone and not in pain. It still makes me feel guilty that I’d felt that way, but I couldn’t bear watching her suffer anymore.”

With her last few words, Gavin’s emotions soared to a place he hadn’t dared to revisit in a while. Again, he found himself struggling for the right thing to say. His voice was but a whisper. “I know we may seem worlds apart to you, but we share something in common.” He hesitated, not knowing if he should bring it up. Emily looked at him confused. “My family almost lost my mother to breast cancer when I was twelve.”

Emily breathed out, not having a clue what to say. His statement shook her from her own self-pity.

Gavin then did something impetuous. He simply felt the need to touch her, so he leaned over and wiped the tears from her cheek. Emily didn’t move. “I remember what it felt like seeing her sick and in pain. The fear of not knowing what life would be like without her is something I’ll never forget, but I know one day I’ll have to face it. I also remember feeling exactly the way you said you had felt. I wanted it to end—for her to either just die so she could be at peace or get better. I wasn’t able to see her like that anymore. I used to actually crucify myself for feeling like that. Emily, just know that what you felt—what we felt—is very real and a very normal human reaction.”