Stepping aside, I hug my chest and listen while my presence is apparent. Dr. Harris looks at me. “As I said the last time you both came, Gemma had a plan. Once you read this, you’ll have a better understanding.” She hands me a small black journal with embossed ivy vines on the casing. “Start at the beginning. If you jump ahead you’ll get confused.”
“Did you read this?” I ask, curious if she helped herself to my sister’s deepest thoughts.
She shakes her head. “I have not. Your sister left me my own reading material.” She laughs. “She was a very detailed lady.”
“Let me get this straight,” Nash intervenes. “You sent us on a wild goose chase for a death certificate that you had. For what?”
“It’s simple really—time.”
“Time for what?” He throws his hands in the air. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m sorry. This is all I can say. Just know that you will have your answers when the time is right. How have things been anyway?” She changes the subject, looking back and forth between Nash and me.
“Wait a minute.” Nash shakes his finger with a devious smirk. “That’s what this is. This was my late wife’s attempt at trying to build some sort of friendship between Rowan and me, wasn’t it? She always wanted her sister to be a part of our lives. This was her way.”
It really does make sense. That must have been her plan all along. To get me to come here for this journal, stick around while I wait for it, and get to know her husband. I got to him all right, but not in the way she planned.
Dr. Harris clicks her tongue against her cheek and shrugs. “Maybe so.”
Of course it’s so. This is exactly what this was all about.
Well, it’s over now.
I have the journal and my time here has come to an end. Gemma allowed me this time to get to know her husband. Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. Guess she didn’t think of what might happen if we slept together and her plan went to shit.
“I guess this is goodbye.” I hold up the journal and turn to Nash. “I’ll get my things and you never have to see me again.” I swallow, feeling the lump of regret lodged in my throat.
Nash doesn’t even lift his head. He makes no attempt to stop me when I walk out of the room.
He never came back to the house before I left.
He never even said goodbye.
Chapter Sixteen
Nash
“What the hell was I supposed to do? Give her a hug and a pat on the back and say see ya later? It’s complicated.” I tip back the brown bottle of beer.
Grant looks at me like I’m a fucking idiot. Which I am. “You keep saying it’s complicated, but you have yet to tell me why. I think you’re reverting back to your old ways and her being here was good for you.”
Leaning forward in the old recliner in the garage, I kick an empty box. “She never planned on staying. It was just a trip to get something she needed. Bottom line.” I stand up. “Now, are you gonna help me finish packing up this mess or what?” I look around at the garage that needs to be packed up. The house is pretty much done, aside from the necessities. I still have thirty days, but I’m ready to get out of here and move on from this pipe dream I once had.
“Just tell me this.” He leans forward, his arms draping over his knees. “Do you miss her?”
“Gemma? Every damn day.”
“No. The sister?”
If that ain’t one hell of a loaded question. Do I miss her? As if that can be answered with just a simple yes or no. I tip back the bottle again, letting the liquid slide down. Do I miss the way she had an opinion about everything? Do I miss her sassy little attitude, or the fact that she never put the toothpaste back in the drawer? Do I miss her clothes scattered all over the house, or how she always takes my T-shirts when she doesn’t feel like washing hers? How she answers my questions with a question? Smiles for absolutely no reason at all? I don’t miss her touch. Her scent. The smell of popcorn and the sound of her laugh. “No.” I shake my head. “I don’t miss her.”
“All right then, I’ll let it go. Let’s get this garage in boxes.”
She’s only all I think about. The memories or her have begun to cloud the thoughts of Gemma. That fucking scares me. Is this how it will always be? If I ever meet another girl again, will she replace the image of my wife in my head?
“Earth to Nash.” Grant snaps his fingers in front of my face.
“Huh?”
He holds up a sleeve of socket wrenches. “I asked where you want this?”
“In there.” I point to a large box labeled tools.
“You’ve got it bad for this girl. I don’t care how much you lie to my face.”
Maybe he’s right. It’s been a week since she left and each day I assume I’ll think about her less, only to think about her more. All I can hope is that she’s doing well. I’ve been wanting to call Lori and check in, mainly just to see if Rowan has made it there. She had mentioned packing up her apartment in Vegas and going to stay with Lori in Arizona for a while.
“We slept together,” I blurt out of nowhere. “And I think I may have developed some feelings for her.” I drop my face in my hands then rub my temples. Looking up, I seek judgement. “Tell me how fucking awful I am and that I need to get this girl out of my head.”
Grant draws in a deep breath, his mouth drawn back. “Damn, man.” He shakes his head. “That’s a tough one.”
“Exactly. I mean, she’s Gemma’s little sister.” I repeat myself, “Gemma’s. Little. Sister. What the hell was I thinking?”
“Tell me this, what is it that makes you think it was a mistake? Is it because you think Gemma would disapprove, or because you’re worried what people will think?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Little bit of both, I guess.”
“If she had no connections to Gemma, would you still feel this way?”
“It’s only been four months since Gemma died. Who moves on that fast?”
Picking up a box and stacking it on another, Grant turns to me. “There are no rules. You have to just follow your heart. I’ve got you no matter what you decide to do. But, let me tell you, don’t let her get too far. You might never get her back.”
Grant’s words played in my mind on repeat. Don’t let her get too far. You might never get her back. Tossing and turning with those words all night, the sun peeks through the windows, urging me out of bed for the day.
It’s my first day back to work, and it feels pretty good to be getting back into the swing of a routine. It’s been months since I even set foot on base, and reality hits me like a glass of cold water. Life must go on. Without Gemma, and without Rowan.
“Good to have you back.” Matthews pats a hand to my back.
Smiling in return, I refrain from cracking a joke at his expense. That’s always been our thing. I insult him, he insults me. But this homecoming is different. I haven’t seen these boys since I left them in Bagram. While they mourned the loss of a friend, I was leaving to bury my wife.