“Thanks, Bambi.” Grey smiled at her thoughtful gesture then held the envelope up. “This goes above and beyond the call of duty. Told ya you were a good friend.”
“I owe you at least that much. I’m not very proud of my recent behavior.” She shook her head, waving her hand in the air to brush the past aside. “Why don’t you read through those papers quickly in case you have any questions?”
Grey folded the envelope in half and shook his head. “I’ll look at it at home.” He didn’t want to read in front of Avery, Miss PhD, and have her watch him struggle with a skill she took for granted. Plus it would take him forever if he tried. “If I have any questions, I’ll give you a call. And you don’t owe me anything, by the way. In fact, I owe you an apology. A couple, actually.”
“Me? For what?”
“For starters, the way I treated you the last time we sat on this bench. I should’ve thanked you for that information instead of shutting you down—and by the way, I’m filing a claim against the OS. And the other apology is for throwing myself on you the other night and then taking off like a two-year-old. That was badly done, and I wouldn’t blame you for being uncomfortable.”
“I’m okay. Let’s call it a draw. Maybe now that we’re not working together we can be friends.” She bounced her knee for a minute in awkward silence, avoiding his gaze. Her infamous backbone seemed to melt like hot butter the instant things got personal. “And I realize this thing with the OS doesn’t clear Andy, or mean that you won’t still press your claim against him.” Avery sighed and shrugged. “Who knows, though? Maybe everything will work out for both of us.”
“I hope so.” Grey meant it. He wanted it so much. Wanted her. Wanted everything to be settled so he could move forward without making promises he couldn’t keep.
“Grey?” Avery chewed on the inside of her cheek, as if she was debating whether or not to continue. “I’m sorry about stereotyping you. And I’m really sorry it pushed you to recall painful memories.”
Instinctively, he gripped his bracelet. He glanced at Bambi and saw her pretty gold-and-blue gaze home in on his wrist. No doubt she was chewing off her tongue inside her mouth, which made him chuckle. “Go on, ask.”
Her gaze snapped to his, eyes wide and wary. “Really?”
“You want to know about Juliette, right?”
“Only if you want to tell me.” She bit her bottom lip.
Grey rolled his shoulders once and sat back. He hated talking about Juliette, especially when it wouldn’t clear all the obstacles between him and Bambi. However, he needed to prove he could be trusted with a woman’s heart. If there was one promise he could make right now, that was it.
When he finally started speaking, he stared at a distant tree and let the memories rush to the forefront, playing like a movie montage of his early life. “I met Juliette when I first moved to Truckee, during the fall of seventh grade. We shared the same bus. I noticed her right away because she was cute, but I didn’t talk to her at first. I was kind of a shy, scrawny kid, and I had trouble in school.”
He felt himself scowl at the memory then decided to trust Avery with the truth. “I had . . . have pretty serious dyslexia, so I didn’t do real well in class, or reading aloud, and so on. Unlike the kids who liked to pick on me, Juliette befriended me. We started sitting together on the bus, and she’d try to help me with homework. One thing led to another, and by Christmas we were ‘going steady’.”
Grey smiled at the recollection of how nervous he’d been when he’d asked her, and of all the awkward and exhilarating firsts that followed throughout the years: holding hands, kissing, “I love you’s,” and sex. “She was gentle and kind and everything good. That was it for me. We spent the next six years dating—were pretty much inseparable. After high school, she went to a local college hoping to become a teacher, and I started working half the year at Squaw Valley as a ski instructor, and the other half year as a waiter.”
Grey glanced at Bambi, whose rapt expression momentarily made him grin.
“So you broke up when she went to college?”
“No.” Grey twisted his bracelet, frowning. “I saw her every weekend during the school year, more often in the summer. When we turned twenty, we talked about getting married, but decided to wait until she finished school, mostly because we didn’t want her parents to freak out. They thought she should date around. Guess they believed she could do better than me—find a guy with a good education and less risky future. My parents loved Juliette and would’ve been supportive.”
Grey sat back and let the heaviness fill his chest as the worst moments of his life came rushing forward. Avery waited patiently, which surprised him. He looked at her, his throat tightening. “Juliette was with me at my parents’ house one weekend. My folks had gone to visit my aunt in Reno. Anyway, we’d watched a movie and gone to bed. Fooled around. Nothing unusual. Then she suddenly complained of a sharp pain in her chest and between her shoulder blades that radiated down her back.” Inadvertently, his own hand began rubbing his sternum. He envisioned her blond hair against her cheek, the pained look on her face. Remembered the gut-wrenching sound of her concerned whimper. “She wasn’t one to make a big deal out of nothing, so I took her to the emergency room. By the time we got there, she was dizzy and disoriented. I called her parents, but it was too late. When they’d arrived, she’d already died from a burst aortic aneurysm. No one even knew she had one until then.”
He heard Avery gasp yet he couldn’t look at her. He bent over, elbows on his knees, and looked at the ground. “The doctor said it wasn’t my fault, but it haunted me for a long time. Had I been too aggressive that night in bed? Had I pushed her too hard to be active on the slopes and hiking trails over the years because that’s what I loved to do? How had we missed the symptoms? So many questions. So much grief. But nothing—no answer—would bring her back.”
A gentle breeze wafted through the air, lifting the edges of Gray’s heavy bangs. He traced her name over his wrist. “After we buried her, I couldn’t stand to be in Truckee anymore. So I took off for Utah, then kept running. Kept moving.”
“I’m so sorry, Grey.” Avery’s eyes were teary. “That’s devastating.”
Rolling his shoulders to ease the tension, he straightened up and sank back into the bench.
“It was. For a long time, I had no interest in women. Of course, eventually I realized I couldn’t live the rest of my life without them either.” He grinned when Avery blushed. “I got the tattoo to remember Juliette and the love we shared, but I hide it because the loss still hurts even after all these years. I’ve dated around, met one or two women I remember more fondly than the rest. But, as you know, it’s not easy to fall in love.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Anyway, that’s my story.” Grey rubbed his forehead and sighed. Retelling—no—reliving that nightmare always wiped him out. He peered at Avery, who looked flushed. He’d come clean, now it was her turn. “So, how about you? Are you going to give your ex another chance?”
“No.” Avery shook her head, looking a bit surprised by his question. Grey was thankful to hear her certainty. “I’m not interested in ‘Matt and Avery 2.0.’ Our relationship was nothing like what you shared with Juliette. I’ve never had anything like that, actually. Never felt so connected or certain or . . . or loved. You’re lucky.”