Bridge of Hope (28 page)

My erection ached for her touch as I stroked my hand up and down the length and pleasure radiated throughout my nerves and taut muscles. I leaned on the wall with my free hand, wishing I could take her to my bed and make love to her. Feel her soft curves beneath me as I slipped inside her body and caressed her luscious breasts with my tongue.

Why the fuck was I feeling this way? It was too soon and I knew it, really. Why couldn’t I let it go? Maybe it was just mixed-up feelings of grief and loneliness? I turned the stream of water around to the cold setting to douse the flames burning within me and jerked my hand away from my body, slapping my palm hard against the tiled wall.

Once I’d dried off I pulled on some lounge pants and dragged the towel through my wet hair. Nervously I made my way downstairs and found Mallory in the kitchen making coffee. Guilt washed over me as I remembered the thoughts I’d been having in the shower. I smiled but she turned away.

I walked over, came to a stop right behind her, and kissed the top of her head. Maybe I should fucking go for it. What did I have to lose? Her friendship? Well, being friends wasn’t all it cracked up to be when one of you felt something more.

She turned to face me with her lips slightly parted, in surprise at my intimate gesture no doubt.
What am I doing?
Her eyes left mine and trailed down to my damp chest, and she licked her lips, sparking a flicker of hope within me once again.

“I
am
sorry I kissed you,” I whispered.

“Y-yes you said.” Confusion clouded her eyes.

I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing as I stood there, gazing down at her. Willing her to see me.
Really
see me.

With a wave of sadness I stroked my fingers tenderly down her cheek. “But… I’m only sorry because I know you don’t feel the way I do. If I thought for a second you felt the same…”

A crease appeared in her brow again and shook her head. “I—I don’t understand.”

Why don’t you fucking understand? Why?
I felt my jaw clenching over and over. “Mallory, do I have to spell it out for you? I’ve wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you in the pub. That’s why I was so angry and unpleasant. I was still grieving. I shouldn’t have felt that way, but I couldn’t help it.”
Oh God, it’s out there now. No going back. Shit
.

With a voice laced with sadness, she reminded me that I’d told her I was happy being just friends.
She’s right. I did say that. I’m a lying arsehole.
Her cheeks had flushed bright pink and I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and kiss her; but instead I tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“I tolerate being only friends. If I’m completely honest, I want more.
Much
more. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Can’t you find room for me in your heart?”
Please say yes. Please.

Her hands clenched and flexed beside her as if she was fighting with her feelings for me.

I
willed
her to just give in. I could see it… or something… in her eyes. I know she wanted me then. I
know
she did.

But in a small, fragile voice she said, “I can’t, Greg, it’s not right.” Her eyes closed and her chin tilted upwards. Her body was betraying the words she’d spoken. She was silently asking to be kissed—but I wouldn’t do it. Not like this. Not when she’d said no. I’m a man, not a fucking monster. Mixed in amongst the desire she clearly felt was fear.

Fear.

I
’d made her afraid and it made me want to throw up. So much for not being a fucking monster. In that moment I hated myself.

Her eyes sprang open and she gazed up at me in confusion once again. “I know… You don’t have to worry, I won’t say anything again.” I was physically shaking with anger at myself and regret at my actions. I stepped away. “You’d maybe better go.” I could hear the edge in my voice and I knew she’d think I was angry at her, but I did nothing to stop it. It was maybe better this way.

“Greg, please, I’m still grieving. It’s too soon. Please don’t be upset with me. I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Her voice was wavering as she pleaded with me, and a sob broke free as she covered her mouth.

But like a heartless bastard I glared her at her coldly and with menace. “I am clearly not yours to lose, now am I? Just go.”

With a trembling lip and tears streaming down her face, she dashed to the door. But before she opened it, she turned to face me again. “Greg, you are my closest friend here. If I don’t have you, then I may as well go home, back to Yorkshire.”

And as one final, terminal blow, I stated, “I don’t do ultimatums.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Mallory sobbed as she ran to her car. It was as if she couldn’t get away from me fast enough, and I couldn’t blame her. I slammed my fist into the wall, causing pain to radiate up my arm and tears to spring from my eyes.
What the fuck have I done? She was pretty much my only real friend and now she fucking hates me and I deserve it.

Hand throbbing, I glanced out the window again and realised she hadn’t left.
Shit!
Do I go out to her? Maybe if I explain… Explain what, you fucking prick?
But as I deliberated, the engine of her little car roared to life and she sped off, spewing up a cloud of dust behind her.
Oh, God, please let her drive carefully. I couldn’t bear it if… if what? If I lost her?
I’d already managed to do that.

After everything she’d been through and after everything
she
’d done for
me
, how could I have been so fucking cruel? Maybe I was the bastard people usually took me for. Maybe eventually we become our reputations. Well, I was living up to mine now.

My mind began to torture me with memories of the selfless and thoughtful things she had done for me. The memorial, the chalkboard, just being a friend. God, the way she had looked that night at the beach. All I wanted to do was hold and kiss her, and at the time I felt guilty because I was there to say goodbye to Mairi. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised I couldn’t do anything to bring Mairi back. She was
gone
. I wanted Mallory to be my future, but I spoiled things at every possible opportunity.

Pacing up and down the room, I knew I had to do something. There was no way I could leave things as they were. She was special to me and I
had
to make her see that. I’d lied when I said I didn’t want to be friends. If that was all she had to offer me, then I’d take it. I’d grab it with both hands and cling on with all my might to whatever it was that meant she was still in my life. I couldn’t quite believe I’d been so fucking idiotic. What had I expected her to say really? She was faithful to Sam to the last, and it would be so very difficult for her to let anyone else in after suffering such a blow. How could I not fucking accept that?

Anger boiled beneath my skin and I wanted to smash things. I wanted to beat myself up. But there was no point in that. Doing that wouldn’t make things right. I stomped over to the stereo and hit the random selection. Maybe music would help me to calm down. Maynard Keenan’s voice floated through the air and into my auditory senses as he sang “3 Libras”. No two people interpreted lyrics the same, and I was pretty sure his rendition while he was part of A Perfect Circle was the most intriguing. As I listened I was struck once again by the way songs spoke to me. And a light bulb flicked on in my mind.

Music.

I would explain to her using music. And this was the perfect track to begin with. Grabbing a blank CD from the pile on the floor, I set up the system to transfer my selection onto a disc for Mallory. There were so many songs I could choose to express my feelings, but I had the perfect list in my mind and so I began.

“Walking After You” by the Foo Fighters came after “3 Libras”. I wanted her to know that I wouldn’t give up on her despite my stupid words. I would do everything I could to make up for my mistakes—and I’d made so many. But she needed to know I was sorry and that I wouldn’t let her go from my life so readily.

“How to Save a Life” by The Fray was the third track. Although I knew the story behind the lyrics for the track, I hoped she would read into them something more relevant to us. Something that let her know I wished I could go back in time and stop her suffering. Even if it meant her still being with Sam. All I wanted was her happiness. She had come along and saved
me
. I wanted to save
her
too.

Nickelback was a band that always managed to express deep emotions in its poetry, and “Far Away” was no different. I chose it as the fourth track. The song told her exactly how I felt in words that I could never find the courage to say myself. I was terrified she’d run away back to Yorkshire like she had threatened. I didn’t want the distance between us. I wanted her to stay here. Where her smile could brighten my day and where we could laugh and joke behind the bar like we used to. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I listened to the words. I’d stopped worrying about wiping away the tears that came. I was alone and so what did it matter? I’d never been so fucking emotional. What she did to me…

Finally it had to be “The Reason” by Hoobastank. Honestly, the words could’ve been written by me for her. She couldn’t fail to understand what I was trying to communicate. I desperately hoped she would listen to the CD to the end. This track sent shivers down my spine. If there was a reason for me to change,
she
was it.

Once the CD was finished, I scribbled on it and stuck it in an envelope along with a note that read:

Mallory, once again I have proved myself unworthy of your friendship and most definitely of anything else. Since meeting you I appear to have lost the ability to communicate my feelings like an adult. In fact, I am not sure I ever could. I made you cry again, which makes me sick to my stomach. Please listen to the tracks on the CD. Hopefully they will explain a lot better than I can. Your friend, always, Greg.

I grabbed my car keys and climbed into the Landy. I was debating whether to knock and hand it to her or just stick it through the letterbox. I decided on the latter, feeling that it was unlikely she would want to see me, let alone converse with me.

Pulling up outside her cottage, I took deep breaths to try and calm my jangling nerves.
I’m doing the right thing here, aren’t I? Yes… yes, definitely.
My heart thundered in my chest and I could hear the blood thrumming in my ears. I was pretty much on the verge of a fucking heart attack. I climbed out of the car and then stumbled over my own feet as I walked the short distance to the front door. As I stood there shaking, the hand holding the envelope hovering by the slot in the door, the rain began to fall. Glancing up at the sky, I allowed the cooling droplets to cover my skin. And with one final reaffirming breath I pushed the envelope inside and released it from my grip.

The deed was done. Now I had to wait. I returned home to Angus, who wagged his tail lazily as I walked in. Poor wee lad. I’d been a blubbering wreck all morning and we hadn’t even been out for a walk. I called to him and we set out. He covered twice my distance, running back and forth with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Such an easy, carefree life.

When we arrived at the bridge over the Atlantic, I stopped and glanced toward Mallory’s cottage. I wondered what she was doing. Was she listening to the CD? The rain was getting faster now and I pictured her sitting there, listening and getting angrier and angrier at me for telling her how I felt through other people’s words. But I had no other choice.

Angus and I carried on walking for over an hour until we returned back home soaked to the skin. It was gone two and so I made myself a sandwich and proceeded to stare at it lying there on the plate. I couldn’t bring myself to eat. My stomach was in knots. Why hadn’t she called? Even if it was to tell me to fuck off. Had she gone already? Maybe the CD had pushed her over the edge and she’d gone back to Yorkshire after all.

Oh, God, I couldn’t bear it.

At least Angus enjoyed the beef sandwich I’d made. He licked his lips and drooled all over the kitchen floor as I broke it up and fed it to him. Once he’d finished, I scratched his head and he followed me through to the lounge, where I switched on the TV. There was some chat show on about unrequited love… switched that off… a news report about emigration… switched that off… a romantic film where you just
knew
the guy would get the girl.
Fuck!
The TV was
not
an option. I drummed my fingers on the sofa and glanced at the clock once again. Almost four and no word.

I stood with determination and walked over and hit play on my own copy of the CD I had made. I had to check that I hadn’t given her the wrong impression in my choices. But as I listened, the tears overspilled my sore eyes once again, trailing damp lines down my face that leaked into my mouth. I could taste the salt where it rested.