Page 70 of His Own Heaven

Toby dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling, tears stinging behind his eyes. “Oh, Jesus fuck.”

“I… I saw the light leave his eyes.” Sniffing loudly, she turned her head and looked up at him, clawed at his shoulders as if she were scrabbling for something to hold on to and when he met her gaze, the look of desperation peering back at him broke his heart and his own tears slipped free.

“Toby, I watched my brother die. I watched him die knowing he shouldn’t’ve even been there, and if it hadn’t been for me, he wouldn’t’ve.” She swiped at her tears. “That’s the last thing I remember before blacking out. Seeing Michael’s eyes staring up at me. Eyes like mine.”

She took a deep breath. “Next thing I knew I woke up in the hospital. I had a tube down my throat, I couldn’t feel half my body, and my mother was screaming at me, saying she wished I’d died instead of Michael.” She dragged a hand over her face. “I haven’t seen or spoken to either of my parents since.”

Toby kissed the top of Lucy’s head, then swiped his forearm across his eyes. He blew out a slow, calming breath. “How old were you when it happened?”

“Twenty-three.”

“And Michael?”

“Twenty-eight,” she said with a sad smile. “He’d just started seeing someone, too. A cute redhead.” She shrugged and hiccoughed a laugh. “At least I thought he was cute.”

Toby’s eyebrows shot up. “Michael was gay?”

Lucy shook her head. “Bi-sexual, like me.” Then her tears came in earnest and her words came on a wail of despair. “And I’d give anything to have him back. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he died and I got to live. I broke the rules. I didn’t follow the chain of command and Michael died.”

Toby pressed her head to his chest, tucked her under his chin. “My sweet girl,” he murmured, kissing her hair and rocking her in his lap. “Michael broke the rules too, baby, and willingly by the sounds of it. That’s not all on you. And if you hadn’t broken the rules, if you’d stopped to tell your father what you were doing, would the boy have survived?”

“No,” Lucy whispered. “But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Shaking her head, she wiped at her face again then took a deep breath. “And do you want to know the real kicker?”

“What?”

“I don’t even have a photo of Michael. Nothing to remember him by.”

“What? Why?”

Lucy sniffed. “After my parents disowned me, my mother had the locks changed and gave all of my belongings to charity. Nan had photos in a family album, but there was a spate of burglaries in the neighbourhood about a decade ago. In addition to Nan’s tele, microwave and jewellery, the thieves took the photo album.” At Toby’s curious frown she explained, “It had this ornate gilded cover on it.” She shrugged. “It looked worth a lot more than it actually was.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy. For everything you’ve been through.”

His lover shrugged again and yawned. “It’s not your fault.”

He cupped her cheek and made her look at him. “It’s not yours either,” he said, but the defiant glint in her amber eyes told him it was going to take time to convince her of that.

Lucy had carried the weight of her brother’s death for a very long time. Toby couldn’t hope to cure her of that overnight, no matter how much he wished he could.

Tugging her down onto the bed with him, he pulled the covers over them both. For the first time since he’d met the woman, the silence between them felt awkward, but just as it was on the tip of his tongue to regale his lover with a tale about his own horrid mother and what she’d done to cause him to cut her out of his life, he heard Lucy’s breathing grew heavy and even, and realised she’d fallen asleep. He also realised the awkwardness he felt was all on him.

For the first time since taking her to bed, Toby didn’t sleep a wink.

Chapter Twenty-One

Wakefulness tickled Lucy’s senses, prodded her awake with the promise of a new day. Yes, that was what she needed. A new day. Time to recover from the emotional upheaval of the previous night and to smooth her ruffled feathers. Time to quietly deal with the memories of her brother’s death and put them to rest again. Puthimto rest again.

Somewhere safe inside her where she needn’t fear being overwhelmed by her grief, the depth of which had taken her by surprise.

Until she’d realised it wasn’t just grief she’d been feeling.

Lucy had known Toby Bennett less than two weeks, and she’d known him intimately for even less than that. So how in the bloody hell had she developed such strong feelings for the man when she barely knew him?

Telling Toby about Michael had been unplanned, and she’d been unprepared for the heartache that had threatened to crush her as she’d told her tale.

Lucy hadn’t spoken about that night to anyone. Not her nan, not Maisie, not even the psychologist she’d been forced to see every month for twelve months after the fire.

She’d never shared her pain before, never admitted to anyone how much she missed her brother and confidant. She’d always retreated inwards, shut everyone else out. That was how she’d learned to survive in a world where the odds had always seemed stacked against her.

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