“Gwen,” Sasha says softly, her hand resting on my shoulder.
I look at her, my eyes as hollow as I feel inside. “I need your help with something.”
“Anything,” she promises.
Good, because for this she’s going to need a backbone.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
I haven’t slept all night. I’m not sure why. I don’t feel anything, so I’d probably be able to sleep easily. Exhaustion is definitely one of the more prominent feelings in my body right now.
Sasha is curled up in the chair by the window, her eyes puffy from crying. I haven’t spoken to her in a couple of hours. I don’t have anything to say.
She hasn’t said anything either; she doesn’t have anything to say.
It’s light out when I hear a car in the driveway. I don’t move from my spot on the couch.
When the door opens, Sasha sits bolt upright in her seat and stares at me. I remain numb, my head resting on my hand on the arm of the couch.
Nathan walks in looking dishevelled and worried. I try to muster up an ounce of sympathy at his time inside. I fail.
“Hey,” he says warily and his eyes go to Sasha. “What’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept a wink.” His tone is warm, soothing. I hate him for trying to be nice right now.
He cautiously walks this way and takes the seat closest to me. His hand goes to my thigh and I can’t be bothered to hold back the wince.
His eyes go to Sasha, who nods towards the table. He glances at it, looks back to me and then whips his head around to stare at the table once more. When he fully reads the bold words on the sheet of paper, he lets out a choked gasp and grips my thigh with an almost bruising force.
“Gwen?” He whispers, his shaking hand moving from my thigh to my face. “Look at me. Please.” I do. He winces at the look he sees there. “I love you.”
Does he? I can’t even remember what love is anymore.
“Don’t you want to know how I found out?” I ask, my voice hoarse from lack of use and lack of water.
He shakes his head. “No, but I’d really like to tell you my side.”
“Your side?” I ask incredulously. “You mean your part in it?”
“No… I mean yes. Please, let me explain,” he whispers and kneels in front of me.
“You knew all along he was going to die.”
His eyes fill with shame. “I did, but…”
“Then there’s nothing you can say that will change anything. You didn’t tell me. You let him be with me and get me pregnant!”
His eyes snap to Sasha, who instantly says, “I had to tell her, Nathan.”
He almost chocolate browns close for a few seconds. When they come back to me, they’re soft and sad. “Caleb wasn’t in the right frame of mind towards the end, but he loved you.”
Yeah right.
“He loved you a lot. You asked me why I hit him…” I look away, but his hand comes to my face and gently moves it so I’m looking into his eyes once more. “After I found out he’d taken you in the back of his car - or at least I thought he had; I now know he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t - I confronted him. He told me he was falling for you, that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
I almost snort at this. Caleb was lying, obviously.
“He had this obsession with leaving something behind before he died. A legacy of sorts. But he convinced me it wasn’t about that anymore. I tried to get him away from you, but he wouldn’t budge. I genuinely believe he loved you. And then… the doctor told him he had months left, if that.”
“The tumour,” I say, and nod to Sasha. “She told me about that.”
“Yes.” He nods, lowering his head for a moment. “He thought he’d have years; we all did. We were wrong, obviously. I think he panicked. When I realised he’d gone back on his word, it was already too late. I confronted him. You were there, but you were already pregnant. I couldn’t tell you; I didn’t have the heart to.”
“The night you punched him.”
“Yes.” His eyes glitter with wetness and his hands grip mine. “It was messed up, the entire situation.”
I stare at him for a while, willing some sort of emotion to surface. “Why were you in town that day? Why did you take me in?”
“He came back to deliver the will, but like I said, it’s probably not even legal.” Sasha responds for him.
“I’ve got this Sasha,” Nathan snaps. Dillan’s wail pierces the silence that follows.
Sasha stands. “I’ll sort him. You two talk.”
Nathan nods his appreciation and turns back to me. “I came back to give you the will.”
“But you didn’t,” I point out, thinking back to that day. “You didn’t even mention it. And how does Sasha know you were there for that reason?”
“Because I promised Caleb when we signed it that I’d give it immediately to you and sort out a solicitor. When I didn’t and you moved in with me, Sasha confronted me that night she and Tommy stayed over. She couldn’t say anything because it would implicate her too. She knew once you saw the will you’d probably never speak to either of us again. She…” He clears his throat, his eyes imploring me to pay attention. “She saw that you were healing. She saw that you were well looked after. I promised her I was getting the money my father stole and would give it to you, but…”
“You never did. You got the money, but you didn’t give it to me.”
“No Gwen… I didn’t, but...”
“Why didn’t you give me the will? Why did you take me to live with you?”
He gulps, his hands sliding up and down the sides of my thighs. “I knew that if I gave you it, I’d probably never see you again.”
Oh my god. “You sick bastard!” I throw his hands away from me, my mouth open in horror. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I know… It was a selfish choice, but I always looked after you both. You can’t deny that it was the right choice.”
Is he hearing himself? Am I hearing him right? “Your brother died and you moved in on his girl not two weeks later!”
“It wasn’t like that!” He shouts desperately. “It was never like that.”
“No?” I laugh coldly. “What was it like?” I push myself to my feet and walk towards the window. “Did you get what you wanted?”
He follows me, his hand resting on my shoulder. “I stayed away from you. I didn’t try anything with you at all.”
“That’s a lie!” I yell, turning to face him, my body trembling with fury and embarrassment. “You tried to kiss me only a month after he died.”
He looks puzzled for a moment and then his eyes widen with realisation. His mouth opens, but he realises he can’t say anything because it’s true. I was sleeping at the time, but I woke up and felt him hovering over me.
“You’re just as sick as he is.” I whisper, ignoring the hurt in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Please, let me explain. When you’ve calmed down, let me explain.” No, I don’t care how sad you sound. I don’t want to listen.