Chapter 24
Emmett
H
ow can Drew defend that son of bitch after he pushed her so far to the edge that she had to deal with those horrible thoughts and feelings she was having about what happened to her before she was even ready to let them surface.
That guy doesn’t know her. Understand her.
He doesn’t know what she’s been through.
How too loud of noises bring her back to the day in her classroom.
How her mind and body were so tired following what happened she slept for a whole day.
How it is okay for her to not want to deal with other people telling her that she is okay. Or it’s all going to be fine.
How it is okay for her to cope with what happened to her how she wants to, and she does not have to answer to anyone.
I’m pacing back and forth in my office, all of these thoughts clouding my vision.
I am livid.
I feel like my skin is heating up by the second, so I take my hoodie off and throw it over the chair by my desk.
The fact that this girl, this strong, courageous girl, lets someone like that dictate when she feels lonely or not.
How a guy like that probably taught her that love has to be earned or that you have to do everything you can to keep someone loving you.
That’s not what she deserves.
After a few minutes, I feel myself calming down, and my thoughts become clearer.
I have been saying it for months now.
This girl does something to me.
Especially now… I feel so responsible for her.
Not in a creepy, controlling way because I know she can handle herself. I saw how she stood up to that guy.
It is in more of a protective way. Again, I know she can hold her own, but I feel protective over her because I don’t want anything to dim her light.
I don’t want anything to make her sad or scared or feel like she’s not strong.
She spends her days teaching a bunch of kids, probably not being paid enough, and she went through an unspeakable tragedy that some would argue is “part of the job.”
I think she’s amazing, and I want her to feel that way.
I want to be the one who protects her from anything or anyone that makes her feel otherwise.
I feel the guilt rush into my stomach when I realize how I just shut down and walked away from her. Drew was talking about Reed and their history, and, while it pissed me off how she gives him too much credit, I just walked away.
Fuck.
I rush back out to where the two of us were smiling with one another no more than ten minutes ago.
But Drew gone.
I round behind the bar to where Eddie is talking to some regulars.
“Hey, Eddie. Did you see the girl I was talking to? Where’d she go?
“Sorry, man. She must have left.” I turn to head towards the door hoping I can catch her on the street. But before I can, I hear Eddie ask, “Hey, you never bring girls to the bar. Who is she?”
I can hear the eagerness in his voice. He’s probably happy to see that everything that happened with Riley didn’t leave me never talking to a girl again.
Eddie never liked Riley.
I’ve known Eddie since college, rooming together freshman year at Whitewater. We both were getting some bullshit degrees just to say we had one. He came to work for me when my dad handed the place over, and Eddie’s been the closest thing I’ve had to a best friend since Lennon died. He plays drums for a local band, spitting his time between band practice and here.
Eddie never liked how Riley refused to come to Lenny’s or declined his invites to come see his band. She always used to say it was because she wasn’t part “that kind of crowd”, but he didn’t like how she seemed to look down on us.
When I proposed, Eddie acted like he was happy for me, but, one night when it was just him and I closing up, he asked me if Riley was the woman I really wanted to be with. I couldn’t look him in the eye when I said yes, and he wasn’t surprised when I called him not long after asking him to be the boss for a few days while Riley and I moved her stuff out of my apartment. I know he’d be my friend forever when all he said was, “Sure thing,” rather than, “I told you so.”
“She’s my upstairs neighbor,” I yell to him as I round the corner of the bar and make my way to the door. I don’t even need to turn around to know that he’s wearing his shit-eating grin.
“Sure she is,” I hear him say.
“Shut up, Ramirez,” I shout in his direction as I run out the door.
The sky is dark now, no snow falling but definitely chilly. I didn’t grab my hoodie from my office before running out, so I’m just in a t-shirt.
I can see my breath as I turn to make my way to the apartment complex. The burn in my lungs from running in the cold is nothing compared to the guilt I have about leaving my and Drew’s conversation like I did.
I get to the garage and check for her car out of habit. It’s there, thankfully, so I run over to the elevator door and press the button. This time having no hesitation to find her.
It dings almost immediately, telling me that I got here just in time, just after someone else got in, just after the doors closed.
The doors open, and I’m met with my new favorite view.
There’s nothing like catching Drew by surprise.
I’m thankful for the gust of wind from the garage for pushing her hair from her face, showing me her effortless beauty. The way her eyes, slightly widened, find mine. Her heart-shaped lips, slightly parted, make my heart stop.
She doesn’t say anything, and neither do I.
I step into the elevator, stepping to find my space next to her, close enough to feel her but not close enough to touch.
The elevator doors close, and I lean to push the button to my floor.
We start our way up. The only sound is the cart trudging along, the unoiled wires straining as we pass each floor.
Not knowing what else to say, wanting to break the silence I know gets to her, “Hey.” I look straight ahead at the closed doors in front of us.
“Hey,” she says, doing the same.
I turn my head to face her, and I notice the redness in her cheeks has faded since when I initially caught her off guard, except for at the tips of her cheekbones and across her nose, highlighting the clusters of freckles across that skin.
I wonder to myself if it’s a reaction to me or a reaction to my drinks.
I’m not sure how much she drinks on a daily basis, being a teacher it is probably a solid amount, but these past few days have probably kept her from sleeping and eating like she normally does so it is possible it’s the latter.
Before I can say another word, the elevator spews an ear-spitting screech and drops, causing a gasp from both of us.
I hear the emergency brakes lock us in place as the lights shut off, heart pounding, my stomach in knots.
I turn to see Drew head between her knees, covering her ears, trying to fuse into the bottom corner of the elevator.
Instinct takes over, and I push the Emergency Call button on the elevator, hoping that someone knows we’re in here.
I grab my phone and check the time to see it’s already 6 PM. Maintenance guys usually wrap up their days around now, but I tell myself that there has got to be someone there who knows we are stuck. I tell myself that someone is going to do something, and it is not a priority to scream or call out.
My priority is to make sure Drew is okay.
The screech of the elevator was followed by eerie quietness, but when the light in the elevator cab shut off, any buzzing or movement ceased, making the silence unbearable.
My mind is racing as to what I should do to help Drew. My first thought is to help her to her feet, but we can’t go anywhere. How will that help?
Before doing anything, I announce to her, “I’m going to kneel down next to you.” Making sure I don’t alarm her anymore.
I never should have left her at the bar, bringing her there and leaving her to walk home alone.
Why didn’t I keep her smiling across from me?
I see her chest rising and falling at 100 miles per hour.
I need to slow her breathing.
I sit down next to her and start inhaling and exhaling like I did in her apartment, but after three or four breaths, I don’t see her following me like she did before.
“Drew, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Very slowly, I move my hand and place it on her back. She flinches at first, but then, as if pushing a button, her breathing starts to slow.
I exhale a breath of my own that I didn’t even know I was holding in.
Our breathing, in and out, being the only sound in the elevator, and I know it probably is not loud enough for her.
Not knowing how else to break the silence, I pull out my phone and click on my Spotify app. I scroll through my recent listen and find California by Blink-182.
The Blink-182 album without Tom Delonge.
We listen to the first two songs, “Cynical” and “Bored to Death”, just breathing and letting the music fill the silence in the air. Once I heard her breathing steady, I took my hand off her back and set it down on my leg. Without moving any other part of her, she reaches her arm towards me, her fingertips wrapping around mine, fitting so nicely.
After the third song, “She’s Out Of Her Mind” ends, Drew slowly lifts her head, her eyes hooking into mine. It is dark, but she is close enough for me to make out her features.
“Did I say something wrong?”
What?
“At the bar,” she clarifies.
“No, no, of course not.” I keep one hand still locked with hers but reach with my other hand to find her cheek. “Please don’t think that.” I move the loose hair that fell from her clip out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. Her cheeks feel warm under my touch.
“Then why’d you leave?”
I pause. Not sure how to say what I want to say. I feel myself wanting to look away from her, but her eyes are holding mine so tightly.
Then, I remember this is Drew.
The last thing she needs is someone walking on eggshells around her or saying things that hold no meaning.
“I… I was mad that you were disregarding how that prick talked to you. I got pissed that you didn’t see how selfish he was being towards you.”
We’re I notice her eyes start to glisten, filling with tears that I would do anything to stop. My hand is still cupping her cheek, and she places her hand over mine.
I continue, “You said you were the asshole for saying you needed space to not be okay. And that’s not true. You have every right to not be okay.” Some of the water welling up in her eyes escaped, cascading down her face. “When I heard you, describing what happened during the–” I stop myself, not wanting to say the word in case she wasn’t ready to hear it.
“Shooting.”
I guess she is ready.
Damn, she’s strong.
“Yeah, the shooting.” The word being said to her rather than coming from her mouth causes a slight flinch. “I wasn’t sure if you were ready for those words to come out. It felt like… Like he pushed you to explain yourself when he had no right to. Like he pushed you to speak about it before you were ready, and that’s not fair to you.”
As I say my piece, the tears begin to stream down her face, and I can’t help but take her face in both of my hands, using my thumbs to wipe each and every one away as they fall, and she closes her eyes. My forehead leans in to meet hers, and I close my own eyes.
All of a sudden, the lights pop on, and we feel the elevator vibrate back to life, moving back up to the seventh floor as if the past minutes never happened.
The doors slowly open, showing me we have arrived at my stop. I slowly stand, helping Drew up as I rise and push the “Close Doors” button.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I’m taking you home.”