Page 81 of The Meaning Of You

I drew a breath between clenched teeth and blew it out slowly. “Did I tell you we were talking on the phone when it happened?”

Mads’ head jerked around to face me. “What? No. No, you didn’t.”

“I need to see it again.” I got out of the car and made my way across the road with Mads at my side. By the time we climbed the fence and were staring down into the ravine, beads of sweat were already prickling my neck.

“I was such a jerk to him,” I confessed. “I was so furious that he was gonna be late for yet another anniversary dinner that I barely let him talk.” My voice cracked and Mads’ warm hand found mine.

“You weren’t to know,” he said, keeping his attention on the rocky landscape at the bottom of the fall where no trace of the accident remained, just brown grass and sleeping cattle.

“Doesn’t matter. I was still being a jerk. I’d just called him and been sent to voicemail, so I was spitting tacks. And yet somehow, with all that must’ve been going on, he managed tocall me back. Jesus, Mads, can you imagine doing that? Anyway, when I picked up, I didn’t give him a chance before I started going off at him.” I took Mads’ arm and turned him to face me. “He interrupted my rant to tell me that he loved me and asked me to forgive him.”

Mads frowned.

“I know, right?” I gave a slow blink and wiped my eyes. “At the time, I thought he just meant about being late for dinner or forgetting our anniversary. But with everything we’ve learned, it makes a lot more sense.” I swallowed hard. “Jesus, Mads, what if he was being chased right at that moment? What if that’s why he called me back? To tell me he loved me one last time? And I just fucking shut him down. Oh, god.” I gulped a choking breath and Mads pulled me into his arms.

I didn’t fight him. I didn’t have the strength or the desire. He felt good and solid and real. “We might never find out exactly what happened,” I whispered against his warm neck. “But it’s like another puzzle piece has slotted into place after all these years. But if I could change those last few seconds I had him, and take back those words and all the anger, I’d tell him I loved him and none of the rest mattered.”

Tears flooded my eyes, fat ugly tears that coursed down my face as Mads rocked me in his arms, his hand cradling the back of my neck, keeping my head on his shoulder as he whispered in my ear, “Davis knew you loved him, you told me that. You said it often to each other.”

I nodded against his shoulder. “We did.”

“Then the rest doesn’t matter,” he soothed, pressing a kiss to my hair. “When my parents died in the glider accident, I hadn’t been home in almost five years. And if I’m being really honest, I’d barely even called them. Mostly they called me. I have no excuse other than the selfishness of youth. I’d simply buriedmyself in the work I loved and forgotten about everything else, even my family.”

I broke free of his arms and our gazes met. The raw guilt in his eyes was striking. “Really? I thought...” I shook my head. “Actually, I don’t know what I thought. What the fuck do I know about functional families?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not proud of it. But even functional families have issues. After the accident, I would’ve given anything to change that. It’s probably why I try and see as much as I can of Shirley.”

“I did wonder about that,” I admitted.

He flushed prettily. “It was also an excuse to run into you, so there’s that.”

I gaped, unsure how to respond. Shocked. Delighted. Guilty... again. All of the above.

“Anyway,” Mads barrelled on. “I know my parents loved me and they knew I loved them. We said it whenever we spoke on the phone, trite or not, it was meant, and I think that’s as much as we can hope for. It’s more than a lot of people get to have. Sudden death catches everyone unprepared. It’s not about the last thing you said, Nick. It’s about everything that went before. The guilt isn’t about them, it’s something we do to ourselves. A misguided punishment for not being able to prevent what happened. Or, as I sometimes think, maybe we punish ourselves because we can’t punish them... for leaving us.”

Wow.I dragged my eyes from his and squinted into the ravine, feeling his words sink like golf balls into some of those raw aching holes in my heart. “I think part of me is angry with Davis because I didn’t have a childhood like yours or his. The first time I felt truly loved, the kind that fully encompasses you, was when Davis walked into my life. And when he told me that he loved me, when heshowedme, I still didn’t know if I was capable of returning it, or even if I deserved it. It was a yearbefore I could even say the words back, not that he cared. He said he’d wait as long as it took. In the end, I learned how to love by watching him love me. And then the bastard went and left me.”

Mads slipped an arm around my waist and drew me to his side. “No kid should grow up like that. It fucks with your heart. I’m happy you had Davis to learn from.”

I turned and raised his hand to my lips. “Kissing you this morning was the best thing I’ve done in a long, long time, and I don’t regret it. Not one bit. I’m not running—” I rolled my eyes at myself. “Well, maybe a little, but I’m worried I don’t have anything more than something physical to offer you. And that’s not fair.”

Mads’ wary eyes studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded and said, “In that case, maybe we should step away now so we can stay friends.”

I frowned. “And you’d be okay with that?”

He raised a brow. “I’m not a kid, Nick. I won’t pout and stomp my feet. I’m not going to pretend I don’t want something more with you, but if that’s not on the cards, then I’d like to keep you a friend.”

A curl of something like disappointment circled my belly. I told myself it was only because I found the man ridiculously attractive and my dick would’ve liked a shot since I hadn’t been laid in almost two years. But I couldn’t do that. Casual or not, my heart knew Mads was never going to simply be a warm body in my bed. It was for the best, even if a part of me knew it was a lie.

I wouldn’t hurt Mads and I wouldn’t hurt myself. I wasn’t sure I’d survive either.

I pulled him into my arms. “Thank you.” His body moulded briefly around mine, the feel of him so right it almost drowned the lie in my head. My lips brushed his hair, the citrus scent of his shampoo flooding my brain as I breathed it in.

He broke the hug a few seconds in, slipping quickly from my arms to straighten his shirt and dust off his shorts. Then he looked up at the sky. “I wish it would just fucking rain.”

He said it like we hadn’t just bared our souls and ended something special before it started. Like I hadn’t seen the painful regret in his eyes. Like my heart wasn’t screaming at me in a decidedly Davis tone that I was being a fucking idiot. Like I wasn’t making a mistake.

Because maybe I was.

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