Coming Home(65)

Was it possible those things were Bryan’s?

She closed her eyes, forcing a tear to spill over, and before she could react, she felt the pad of his thumb brush under her eye, sweeping it away.

Leah opened her eyes and looked at him; he had the most tender expression on his face, and she suddenly realized how backward it was, that he was comforting her over the death of his friend. She reached up and took his hand, sandwiching it between both of hers as she brought them to rest on the pillow in her lap.

“What happened to him?” she asked, running her thumbs over the back of his hand.

Danny wet his lips and looked down. “Head injury.”

That was incredibly vague, but Leah knew enough not to push the issue. Instead, she kept running her thumbs over the rough, damaged skin of his knuckles.

“That’s why I got so freaked over the flowers,” he said, and her thumbs stopped abruptly as she looked up.

“Why did that make you so mad?”

He shook his head with a sigh. “I wasn’t mad. It’s just…she keeps those things all over the house because when we were little, Bryan used to pick them from other people’s gardens and bring them home to her.” He laughed lightly. “She kept telling him that it was stealing and that it wasn’t a nice thing to do, but he could never understand how bringing his grandmother flowers was a bad thing. And she always put them in water. Always. Even after lecturing him about stealing, she’d put them up in a vase. Every f*cking time.”

He looked down, a smile on his face as he shook his head at the memory. “When you sent them, it just freaked me out. I didn’t know how you knew to get those for her. I didn’t even think about the possibility that you’d seen them in her house.” He lifted his eyes to her face. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. That was so shitty of me.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine.”

It was quiet as they sat there, his hand in both of hers.

“Losing Bryan,” she finally said, and he looked up at her. “That’s not the reason you keep pulling away from me.”

He pulled his hand from hers and Leah straightened, instantly lamenting the loss. Danny gripped the edge of the table and closed his eyes. “I don’t know how to explain this to you.”

“Just say it. Whatever it is, just say it.”

He sat completely still for a moment before he pushed off the table with a huff, walking around to the other side. He stood there, blinking up at the ceiling with his hands clasped on top of his head. “Fuck…I just…” He let his hands fall, shaking his head before he looked back at her.

It hurt to watch the struggle on his face. She could see that he wanted to tell her, but fear, or embarrassment, or both, were stopping the words in his throat, and she had no idea how to make it easier for him.

Tell him something. Something about you. Something you’re not proud of.

“You want to hear something awful?” Leah said gently, and Danny stopped pacing as he looked at her. “About two years ago, my father had a heart attack.”

She twirled the loose thread around the tip of her finger until she felt it ache with the cut-off circulation.

Tell him. Tell him something you’re ashamed of, so he knows it’s okay.

Leah exhaled. “Before that night I hadn’t spoken to him for a year.”

She stared at the throw pillow on her lap until it was a mass of jumbled colors before her eyes, and she felt the couch dip under his weight as he sat beside her.

“Why?” he asked softly, reaching over and pulling the thread until it unraveled from her finger.