Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(86)

Load of shit, is what that is. Worse, it works. At least sometimes. It’s helped me focus on concrete plans, a to-do list of positive, forward-thinking tasks to complete before I felt I could in any good conscience ask Oliver to give me a chance—plans to show him I’m capable of being a supportive partner, when the natural tension between our positions in our careers, our health, our ages, could threaten to draw us apart.

“Thank you,” I mutter, letting Mitch hug me. “This feeling-my-feelings shit is shit.”

He laughs his wet ex-smoker’s laugh and pats my face gently. “It’s hard, but you’re doing it. And it’s not done being hard either, but it’s still worth it. He’s worth it. So are you, Gav.”

I dab my nose again and make myself straighten up to my full height, like a soldier readying for battle. “Right. Well. Here goes.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder toward Oliver’s house.

Mitch scratches the side of his head. “Yeah. About that.”

“About what?”

He eases onto a stool at the kitchen island with a groan. “He uh…left.”

“Left,” I growl. “And you know this how? You were going to tell me when?”

“Easy.” He lifts his hands placatingly. “I know because I am Oliver’s friend. We take a brisk sunrise neighborhood walk every Wednesday morning before lazy asses like you roll out of bed.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh heavily. “Of fucking course you do.”

Mitch doesn’t acknowledge me. “On our walk this past Wednesday, he told me where he’d be while you fellas have your bye week.”

“And,” I say between clenched teeth, “you didn’t think I’d value being told that little tidbit, given what I just fucking did? Given what I have planned tomorrow? Given everything I’ve been trying to do for the past fucking month so I have a goddamn chance with him?”

He arches a silvery eyebrow. “I’ll be honest, Gav, I wasn’t sure you’d follow through just yet, and frankly, you didn’t deserve him if you didn’t. So I waited.”

“Excellent.” I throw him a sour, sarcastic smile. “I appreciate your faith in me.”

“I do have faith in you. I knew you’d do it. I just wasn’t sure when. And until I did, I had to think of him, too.” He leans in, sets his hand on mine, which is splayed on the counter, my knuckles white. “I meant it, what I said. I am proud of you.”

I stare down at his hand, resting over mine. “I hope it’s enough.”

After a few reassuring pats, he says, “I hope so, too.”

“Where is he, Mitch? Please.”

“A wedding. His sister’s? No, his brother’s. I can’t remember.”

“Doesn’t matter. There’s loads of them. One of them is getting married. Fine.” I tug my hand away, pacing, thinking. “Where is it? When is it?”

“The when, I’m not sure. But the where, I can tell you.” He sits back and grins. “Better get packing and book a flight. There’s an A-frame in Washington State calling your name.”





27





OLIVER





Playlist: “Elephant Gun,” Beirut





I watch the sunrise crest over the horizon, spilling faint pearly light across lush spring green grass. Leaning on the railing of the A-frame’s back deck, coffee cup in hand, I shift on my feet, breathe in the fragrance of the crushed rose petals and straggling evergreen boughs strewn across the deck’s wide varnished planks.

A beautiful wood arch still stands where it framed Willa and Ryder two days ago, home to those roses and evergreen boughs before the wind whipped them away. I smile, remembering it—my brothers and I standing behind Ryder, knuckling away tears. Rooney, Frankie, and my sisters behind Willa, doing the same.

It was a quiet ceremony, small and intimate. Mostly family, a few friends, including a special appearance from Tucker and Becks, Ryder’s college roommates, who I hadn’t seen in years and who were close with Willa, too.

Mom and Dad walked Willa down the aisle. Ryder and Willa recited their personalized vows. We ate Swedish fare by candlelight because Willa loves Mom’s family recipes, then danced on the deck until the lovebirds drove off in their trusty Subaru and the rest of us collapsed into our beds, happy and exhausted. Yesterday, we lounged around, played soccer and board games, then went on a long, springtime walk.

It was as close to perfect as it could get, but for that nagging ache in my heart that I did my best to ignore. Another wedding here. Another “happily ever after” that wasn’t mine.

I take a sip of coffee, gulping it even though I know it’s hot, that it will hurt. There’s a sharp, hot pain already knifing down my sternum. What difference will it make?

It’s been a month. A month since Gavin and I were as intimate in that shower as I felt two people could be, since we sat outside afterward and once again he pushed me away until I was at emotional arm’s length.

The way he touched me, brought me to orgasm, kissed me, the intimacy he gave me in letting me care for him, see him at his most vulnerable, keeps gnawing at my gut, twisting my heart into a knot. What do you feel for someone when you let them see you like that, touch and comfort and care for you? How do you push them away afterward, like he did?