“You needed it. How long since you last slept?”
She thought about it a second. “Can’t remember. A while.”
“How are the stitches?”
“Fine.”
They’d still be sore but he knew she’d never admit it. He rose, his knees cracking as he straightened. “You hungry? I put some soup on to warm.”
“Um, sure.” She followed him into the kitchen where he’d left the range light on and perched on a stool at the granite-topped island in the center of the room. “Can you cook?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not bad. Nothing fancy, though I’m pretty good on the grill.” He reached for one of the bowls he’d set on the counter next to the stove. “You?”
“I like cooking, but I don’t bother often because it’s just me. Seems kinda pointless.”
Matt ladled out the canned soup the guys had picked up for them. “Yeah, I hear ya.” Most of the time he didn’t bother either. Cooking for one got old in a hurry.
He carried the steaming bowls to the island. As he set hers down in front of her he noticed the way her gaze strayed to his wedding band. He sat across from her and dipped his spoon into his soup. It felt intimate somehow, sitting in this cozy kitchen with her, just the two of them while the snow fell outside.
“I’m sorry about your wife.”
He looked up at her, surprised she’d mentioned it. “Thanks.”
Her gaze dipped to his hand again. “You still wear your ring.”
The muscles in his stomach grabbed, his hand tightening around the spoon. “Yeah.”
“You must have loved her a lot.”
Matt nodded and looked down into his bowl. “Miss her every day. She was a good person.” Would have been an amazing mother, too.
Briar was silent a long moment but he could tell she was still curious. “Can I ask what happened?”
“It wasn’t in my file?”
“I didn’t read that part.”
Now he was curious. “Why not?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Seemed too personal and wasn’t relevant to what I needed to know, so I skipped it.”
Few people ever came right out and asked him what had happened. He didn’t talk about it much because it made others uncomfortable and dredged up memories he was still learning how to deal with. They weren’t as painful or sharp as they’d once been, but it would always hurt. Yet somehow he found he didn’t mind telling Briar.
“Aneurism. She’d been having lots of headaches but the doctors said it was nothing to be worried about. She wouldn’t take anything for them, because…” He stopped and heaved a breath, unprepared for the sharp stab of pain beneath his sternum. It’d been a long time since the memory had affected him this way.
Briar kept watching him, quiet and patient, and that gave him the chance he needed to collect himself before saying the rest. “She was three months pregnant.”
“I’m so sorry.” She looked straight at him as she said it, didn’t wince or look away. It felt honest and like a different kind of intimacy. Because they’d just shared a meaningful part of themselves with each other.
“Thanks.” He stirred the spoon through the soup. “We’d been trying a long time. No one knew yet and she was excited to tell her family. We had her sister and family over for the Fourth of July. She jumped into the pool to play with our nieces and somehow the aneurism ruptured. She died a few minutes after I pulled her out.”
That image of her, hair slicked back as her face turned blue was something he’d never been able to shake. So often when his mind wasn’t occupied with other things, that’s the picture he’d see of her. He knew he still blamed himself for what happened.
Matt felt he should have pushed harder with the doctors, should have insisted they investigate further. Logically he knew there was nothing they could have done about her condition, especially while pregnant. Lisa would absolutely have refused surgery or medication that might harm the baby. Still, maybe they could have done something to prevent the rupture if they’d found it early enough.
“That’s so awful.” Briar shook her head and got quiet, seemed to be lost in her own memories as she stared into her bowl. “I know what that’s like. Losing someone you love, right in front of you and you can’t stop it.”
Now it was his turn to remain quiet as he watched her, waiting for her to elaborate.
She lifted her spoon, let some soup dribble back into the bowl. “My parents died when I was seven. Car accident. I was in the back seat. We got hit head-on and the engine came through the dash. Crushed them both.”