So he’d love her from a distance for the rest of his life. That was the way it had to be so the sooner he got used to feeling like crap, the better.
Kade sat up, rested his forearms on his thighs and dangled the glass between his knees. He could wallow or he could distract himself. He could call Quinn and they could go clubbing. He could go to Mac and Rory’s for dinner. He could do some work or a gym session.
What he wasn’t going to do was to sit on this couch in the dark and feel sorry for himself. Yet it was another fifteen minutes before he got up and another ten before he crossed the room to flick on some lights.
He just needed time, he told himself. A millennium or two might be long enough to get over her.
Twelve
The summer holidays were almost over and the vast beaches on the west side of Vancouver Island had been, for all intents and purposes, returned to the birds and the crabs that were the year-round residents of the island. Soon the leaves would start to turn, winter would drop the temperature and the storms would roll in.
But for now, Brodie and Poppy walked the empty beach, bare feet digging into the sand, watching the rolling waves kiss the shore. The stiff breeze pushed Brodie’s thin hoodie against her round tummy and kicked sand up against her bright blue yoga pants. She loved this place, Brodie realized. Away from Vancouver, away from the city, she could breathe and think.
“When are you going to stop punishing yourself for living?” Poppy asked as she took Brodie’s arm.
Brodie pushed a hunk of hair out of her eyes and squinted at Poppy. “I’m not punishing myself.”
“Really? Well, the way I see it there is a man on the mainland who wants to be part of your life, who wants to raise this baby with you, but you are determined to take the hard road and do it all by your little lonesome. Is that not punishing yourself?”
“That’s me protecting myself,” Brodie retorted.
“From what? Pain?” Poppy asked. “From loneliness?”
Brodie stared out to sea and focused her attention on a ship on the horizon and ignored Poppy’s probing questions. She didn’t want to think about Kade, though there was little else she thought about these days. She definitely didn’t want to talk about him.
But Poppy wasn’t intimidated by Brodie’s scowling face or her frown. “News flash, you are so damn lonely you don’t know what to do with yourself.”
“Pops, please.”
Poppy dropped her arm and they stood side by side, looking out to sea. Poppy released a long breath. “Do you see that ship?”
She’d only been staring at it for the past half hour. Brodie nodded, glad Poppy had dropped the subject of Kade. “It’s a container ship, probably headed for Japan.”
Poppy nodded, her expression contemplative. “There’s a saying about ships and leaving the harbor...do you know it?”
Brodie shook her head.
“It goes something like this—‘a ship in the harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.’”
Brodie wrinkled her nose. How silly she’d been to think Poppy had dropped the subject; Poppy only stopped when she’d brought you around to her way of thinking.
“Ships aren’t built for safety but neither are humans. We should take risks. We have to take risks. You and Kade? Well, that’s a risk worth taking.”
“I’m scared. Of loving him too much, scared it won’t last forever. Scared he thinks he loves me but only loves me because of this baby. So scared he might—”
“Die?” Poppy interrupted. “What if you die? What if a freak tsunami washes you off the beach right now? What then? What if you die giving birth? What then?”
“That would suck,” Brodie admitted.
“It really would. But would you want Kade to be alone for the rest of his life, to—metaphorically speaking—wear black widower’s weeds, too scared to love again, laugh again? To live again?”
Dammit. She knew where Poppy was going with this but she couldn’t find anything to say to get out of this quandary. All she could think of was that it was easier for Poppy to say it than for Brodie to do it.
“Well?” Poppy demanded.
“But—”
“There are no buts. Jay would hate to see you like this. Your parents would be so disappointed in you.” Poppy grabbed Brodie’s chin and forced her to meet faded blue eyes. Poppy’s body might be old but her eyes were alive and fierce and determined.
“Do you love him?”
Brodie couldn’t lie, wouldn’t lie. “Yes.”
“These are your choices and you need to think them through. You can wallow and live a miserable half life until you die. You can keep punishing yourself, keep disappointing yourself because you don’t have the balls to choose differently.”