After the Climb (River Rain 0.50)

If it was all like that, it was thousands and thousands of I’m sorry.

“This says…”

My eyes darted up to Duncan, who was reading from the envelope.

His voice was quieter.

And I was very aware that I was incredibly disturbed by the literal thousands of apologies when I had no idea what Corey would need to apologize for—to Duncan and me—and I did not think that was a joke.

I still saw that Duncan had lost some of the color under his healthy outdoors-man tan.

“…I’m supposed to read this out loud with you here,” he carried on. He looked to me. “I’m not allowed to read it myself. He says he wants us to hear it first at the same time.”

“Duncan—” I could not hide the disquiet in my voice.

“Let me just read it, Genny,” he whispered.

There he was.

There was my Duncan.

My Bowie.

Mine.

Mineminemineminemine.

I couldn’t stop my head ticking, which made his eyes narrow in concern he didn’t hide, before I again nodded.

He didn’t hesitate to slit the envelope open. Pull out the tri-folded letter that was on such fine-quality stock, I could see it without feeling it.

Duncan unfolded it, and through a dead man’s hand, delivered a blow neither of us was prepared to absorb and neither of us would recover from.

Ever.

“Dun and Genny, I can’t say it enough. I’m sorry. It was me. And it was me because I loved you, Genny. God, you never figured it out. I thought I was so obvious. But you never figured it out. And you picked him.”

“What?” I asked softly.

Duncan didn’t even look at me.

“So I told him. I told you, Dun. I told you Genny and I slept together. And I told you because I knew you’d believe me. And I loved Genny so much, I was willing to sacrifice you to have her. So I lied and told you we’d had sex.”

The chill of shock slid over my skin, forcing me to take a wooden step away from the desk.

“And I was married. God, what a fuckup. I did it to myself, giving up on Genny and marrying Samantha. Of course, both of you would come to my wedding. Of course, both of you would remember how into each other you were. And of course, you would hook up and be inseparable again. I couldn’t even get either of you on the phone because, if you weren’t working or sleeping, you were fucking. And every day it kept going on, turning to weeks, months, an entire year. It was torture. It made me crazy. I had to make it stop.”

I was trembling.

Duncan stopped reading, I knew he did when he said gently, “While I finish this, why don’t you come over here?”

I tore my eyes from the letter in his hand and looked to him.

I should have kept them on that despicable, foul, hideous letter.

Because Duncan looked ravaged.

Not pale.

Not stunned.

Not angry.

Destroyed.

I knew why.

His best friend had betrayed him.

Not in the way he thought. In a much more selfish, vicious way.

And he’d done that by convincing him that the woman he’d loved had done the same.

Corey was that good authority.

I got it then. I understood.

I even understood why he didn’t tell me who told him.

He didn’t think he had to.

But he’d believed Corey beyond doubt.

Because there was one person on this earth at that time that Duncan would trust more than me, even if that person was betraying him at the same time, something that would never in a million years occur to him.

Corey.

“Just get it done,” I said.

“Genny—”

“Just read the damned letter, Duncan,” I snapped.

It took a moment, and I knew why.

Duncan despised his father and all he stood for.

But he could not escape his blood, and in having Burt Holloway’s blood, he did not like to be told what to do.

And he did not like it when he was denied something he wanted.

In this instance, he beat that back and returned his attention to the letter.

“I told Sam the same thing so she’d leave me, and she did. I had no idea she was pregnant.”

And that explained that.

Goddamned Corey.

At the end of them, Sam had cooled to me, significantly.

It hurt, because I had no idea why she suddenly disliked me so much, outside the fact their marriage was ending, I was Corey’s friend, her not-even-two-year-old-marriage was over, and she was carrying a baby.

We hadn’t been close, but we’d liked each other and were becoming friends.

And she’d never let that go. Not in all these years. Not even after her son became a part of our family so we could take care of him when Corey didn’t.

Now I knew why.

“But that was the end. She didn’t forgive me, and Dun, you didn’t forgive Genny, and I got part of my way, you two were over. But then Gen, you moved to LA, and Duncan, you went to Utah, and all I managed to do was make certain no one had what they wanted.”