Title: I Can't
Rating: M, kids. Lots of language, a little sex.
Synopsis: Holly's getting fucking married. So, you're getting wrecked.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's note: This wouldn't leave me alone. Told in non-sequential order, all from Gail's P.O.V. Originally a whole story but changed my mind due to my hate for formatting. Every chapter named for time from Holly's wedding. Please let me know what you think. Have the first three parts finished and have started on the others. Will be getting them out shortly. No beta, all the mistakes are mine.
2 Weeks Until the Wedding
"She loves you, you know."
You hadn't even noticed the small brunette plant herself in the chair next to yours let alone seen her gesture to the barkeep with time enough for the tequila to slide in front of you.
"I don't even think she realizes it, or maybe she does but, you know, doesn't know how much. But she does."
You blink, sure that you're at the part of the evening when you're imaging things. But you turn and sure enough, there she is, the bitch that you hate more than almost anything. Your face sets into a snarl, biting words bubbling up your booze soaked throat.
"She fucking loves you… and, you God knows why. A fucking cop- and she's head over fucking heels in love with you. It's- gross."
You're shaking your head then, the fog that had settled upon you throughout the evening suddenly starting to lift, starting to make you feel- and it's all you can do not to turn and snarl and bare your fangs and tell Lisa to get the fuck out of your face but you don't. Instead, you sip at the proffered beverage before downing it in one clean sweep, wincing slightly against the burn before wiping your mouth.
You stand on unsteady feet, the sudden shift of the evening unsettling. You had to get home. Had to- had to forget all of it. And the presence- of her- of someone so close to-
It sends your gut plummeting and makes you want to gnash your teeth and bang your fists and bellow in your grief, in your regret.
So, you begin to drift by her, stopping only to sigh in displeasure as a fist closes on your forearm, spinning you around to look into glassy, stern brown eyes.
"Holly loves you, Gail. But she's getting married. To a girl who can give her so much- who, who fucking loves her enough to do that for her. You've got to let her-"
The sentence doesn't leave her mouth, not completely.
Your fist draws out of her grip and rears back, connecting with her jaw with a heavy thwack.
Lisa, for her credit, doesn't fold over like you thought she would.
"No- no she fucking doesn't," you're seething, trying to ignore the warnings to the bartender, the growing stares of the crowd, "She's proved that more than once- because, yeah, she's getting married, Lisa. You're right. And the last time I saw her, she was at my doorstep, telling me she had met someone, that she was coming back for her and not for m-"
You don't let the words come out of your mouth because you can feel the sting of the tears pinching your eyes and feel the thick of them in your throat. You take a moment to shake your fist out, step into the woman once more, growling and- wishing, hoping she would come at you, move, fucking something so you could take it out- all of it- on her, on her snide face, her sense of fucking entitlement.
"And I'm not going to put up with you shoving that down my throat and telling me how inadequate and undeserving I am and filling my fucking head with- with stories. I see her at crime scenes, I'm fucking civil. Because she chose, Lisa. And it wasn't me. The end."
And then Lisa- she's fucking laughing, She has the audacity to laugh and you find yourself seething once more, seething because who the hell is this woman-
"Sam's amazing. Kind. Generous. Beautiful. But, Gail- you're fucking blind if you don't see it. You know- you know don't you?"
And then she's launching into a story about how a fling turned into a relationship- over a year- and then Holly had been offered the head pathologist's position in Toronto and had just- taken it. With little thought, no regard. A fight turned into a proposal and a haphazard engagement. Lisa didn't understand it but Sam- Sam was a pediatrician and a damn good one and able- able to give people things-
"But I can't help but think that maybe she was coming back here to get- to get you. And Sam just made her choose and she didn't have a reason not to and Holly- she's loyal, Gail. She's locked in and there's no going back, you know? No going back."
Another shot. Another shaking of her head.
You stare at her with shaking body for a long moment, gritting your teeth against the words that are bubbling up, unbidden in your throat. Try to keep your mind from fleeting to the crime scenes you'd both shared throughout the weeks since her return.
The looks, the locking of the eyes.
The rushing blush of both your cheeks as you're caught raking your eyes up her long, long legs.
Not admonishment that greeted you, but a coy smile and a bitten lip.
Holly's imploring stare, soaked in regret.
Her offer to talk, to clear the air. And your refusal. Because there's nothing she can say to soothe the sting, nothing she can do to make any of it make sense.
You can feel the words spill out into the air without your consent and gasp when all of a sudden they're hanging there thick and heavy in the air.
"She's the love of my life, Lisa," you're rasping, wincing at the sound of their brokenness.
And something is happening because Lisa's eyes have gone soft and her hand is back on your arm but you don't have the sudden urge to claw at her eyes and instead feel the air deflate from your lungs.
"She's the love of my life and I- I fucked it all up and there's nothing I can or will do about it. I know it's all over, Lisa. You don't have to-"
"Gail, I don't think- I don't want you to think that I blame you.. I just- " A deep breath from across the bar, a closing of eyes as she braces for another hit.
"You can't stay either. It's not- you can't fucking stay for you or for her. It's not fair."
The rage does spike- hot and snaking down your spine, the feel of it wrenching your mouth open, ready to rip into the silence. Because this is your fucking home and Holly just had to come in and send that into a fuck tail spin and who was fucking Lisa to tell you where you could and couldn't go-? And fair? Fucking fair? This- you, Holly, her- none of it has ever been fair or right or- anything. You're nothing. The same as you've always been- you're-nothing anymore but a shadow on her life. You want the rage to come pouring out, want it to mask your plummeting realization. But it doesn't. It doesn't because she's right.
You don't want to stay, don't want to watch her embark her life with this woman- this woman who wasn't you.
You're settled onto the stool once more when Lisa hands you another shot, shoots you another sympathetic smile.
"Do you- can you get anytime off?" She's asking you as gently as she can muster.
You grunt and shrug because, yeah- maybe you could weasel some personal time out of Ollie and maybe you could spend some time traveling and trying to figure out where you go from here-
"I have a house," she's starting, a little stilted, like she can't believe she's saying all of these things, "In the- oh, fuck, it's in the fucking Hamptons, alright? And it's vacant and I thought that maybe you could have some time and go there for a while. It's solitary, it's- look, it's free and I was just thinking, if you needed…."
Her words trail off and you are left in awkward silence. A moment, one, two, and then-
"Why are you doing this?" You breathe.
Lisa drops her head into her open palms, sighs, and drinks a long drink.
When she speaks, it's a regretful whisper.
"Because I'm fairly certain that the reason my best friend isn't with the love of her life is because I can't keep my fucking mouth shut. Because I don't hate you as much as I want to and I'm trying to find a way to make this right, yeah?"
A wry smile finds its way on your face and you're shooting back a response before you can even help it.
"And so they say her heart grew three sizes that day."
And then she's snorting and shoving you and you sit in companionable silence for the rest of the evening until you're stumbling home with a bemused smile on your face, an address and a key tucked neatly into your pocket.
Let me know what you think!
Thanks,
Whit