‘I imagine you came back early so you could face things before the wedding on Saturday, instead of being hit by the whole lot on the day.’
How well she knew him. ‘It seemed the most sensible approach.’ Doing the lot in one day tomorrow would be easiest in the long run; and if he did it now he’d cope better at the wedding.
‘I’m working tomorrow,’ she said, ‘but I’m pretty much off duty from Wednesday so I can help Ruby with any last-minute details.’ She paused. ‘If you want someone to go with you to...’ She paused, and he knew what she wasn’t saying. To the church. To his father’s grave. To all the places in the town that held so many memories, they threatened to choke him. ‘Well, you know where I am,’ she finished.
It was a really generous offer, especially considering how he’d pushed her away before.
But he also knew he had to face this on his own. ‘Thanks, but I’m fine.’
* * *
Brad wasn’t fine. Abigail could see it in his dark, dark eyes.
But he was as stubborn as his father had been. Which wasn’t always a good thing. He was making himself miserable, and that made his family miserable. Why couldn’t he see that?
‘Brad. It’s been five years.’ And everyone else had moved on, except Brad himself. ‘I hope by now you’ve worked out that you weren’t to blame.’
He said nothing.
‘Your dad was a stubborn old coot. I loved Jim dearly, but he didn’t help himself and he didn’t listen to anyone.’ Maybe now wasn’t the right time to say it—but then again, when would be the right time? ‘I think you’re going the same way.’
‘What?’
There was a simmering, dangerous tone to his voice. But Abigail wasn’t backing down now. It was a boil that had needed lancing years ago. The poison needed to come out so Brad could move on instead of being stuck in the misery of the past. ‘Jim was the one to blame for his death, not you. If he’d listened to his doctor and taken his angina medication out with him on the boat—or, better still, waited until the following weekend when you could’ve gone out on the boat with him and he wouldn’t have been on his own—he wouldn’t have had the heart attack in the first place; or at least if he’d had his GTN spray with him he would’ve been able to buy himself enough time for the emergency services to get to him and treat him in time.’
He clenched his jaw. ‘My dad’s dead.’
‘And you’re still alive, Brad.’ Though he wasn’t living. Just existing. ‘Stop wearing that hair shirt and thinking you have to atone for something that really wasn’t your fault.’
His face shuttered. ‘I don’t want to have this conversation.’
‘No,’ she said, not sure whether she was more angry or sad. ‘You wouldn’t face it then and you won’t face it now. Brad, for pity’s sake—you might want to keep punishing yourself, and that’s your choice, but please make sure you don’t punish your mum and Ruby at the same time.’
‘I think,’ he said, ‘I’d better go. Before we say something we’d both regret.’
He was shutting her out again and refusing to discuss anything. So he hadn’t changed. How stupid she was to think that five years might have made a difference. ‘You do that,’ she said. ‘But if you’re not smiling all day until your face hurts on Saturday, then you’ll answer to me.’
His eyes widened as if he was shocked that she could even think that he’d do anything less than be delighted for his twin. ‘Ruby’s my sister.’
‘And you’ve been there for her?’ It was a rhetorical question, because they both knew the answer. He hadn’t. He’d shut himself away in his lab, suffering in silence and not letting anyone comfort him—and that had also meant he wasn’t able to comfort anyone else.
A muscle worked in his jaw. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘That’s the attitude you took when it was still my business,’ she said. ‘Stubborn, refusing to see any other point of view except your own.’ The anger she hadn’t realised she was suppressing flared up, and the words came out before she could stop them. ‘That’s what killed your dad. Don’t let it kill you, too.’