36. Presley
“Another container.”
Alyssa looks up at me as she kneels beside the Tupperware on the porch. “When is he going to come back?”
I blow out a long breath between my lips. “I don’t know, kid.”
Every night this week, Chance has left dinner on the porch—cooked and ready, with enough left for the kids to take for lunch the next day. I talk to him on FaceTime before bed, and call to see Stephen as well. But neither of them has been here in days. After their fight out on the lawn the other night, I told Stephen that it isn’t fair to anyone to have him here without Chance, and vice versa. My house needs to be a neutral zone, for me and for the kids.
I don’t want one of them. It’s both, or nothing.
I’m holding out for both, but I don’t know how this will all turn out—especially if Alexander doesn’t wake up. This animosity between the boys was there before I came into the picture, and with Stephen’s best friend in a coma, it’s back stronger than ever.
I’ve never seen Stephen like this before. I’m worried that he won’t be able to move past this, regardless of Alexander’s outcome. His friends are his family, and I know better than anyone how difficult it is losing someone close to you. I’m trying to stay positive for him, but deep down I’m anxious.
Avery takes the food from Alyssa and walks into the house without a word. The kids have been talking to Stephen and Chance on the phone daily, but our house just isn’t the same without them here, together. I hate that it’s taking a toll on the kids.
Yet another way that I’ve caused them pain with this relationship.
“Okay, kids. Back in the car.”
Alyssa stops in her tracks. “What? Where are we going?”
“We’re taking a road trip.”
Avery perks up. “To Philadelphia?”
“To Philadelphia.”
He grins and bolts back out the door, still carrying the container of food in his hands.
“Wait!” Alyssa runs up the stairs. “I have to get something.” A minute later, she returns clutching two bottles of nail polish, one in each hand. “I want to paint his nails for his game tomorrow!”
I give her a sad smile. “Not sure he’ll be in the mood for that, babe.”
“Duh. That’s why I’m gonna cheer him up.”
I laugh. Yeah, she totally will.
Nerves dance in my stomach as we walk toward Chance’s door.
I called ahead and told him we were coming, yet I’m still anxious about how he’ll respond to us being in his space. I know he isolates when he’s upset, plus he has a game tomorrow—the first one since Alexander’s accident—and I don’t want to cause him more stress than he’s already under.
But all my worries dissipate when he swings open the door and hugs the kids tightly to his chest.
Alyssa invites herself in, and makes herself at home. “We brought dinner. Well, technically, you brought dinner, but then we brought it back to you. You know what I mean. Oh, wow—your TV is huge!”
Avery follows her into the apartment, shaking his head.
I grimace. “Sorry. She’s...Alyssa.”
Chance offers me a sad smile. “Don’t apologize.”
I slip my arms around his waist, and breathe in his clean scent. “How are you holding up?”
His shoulders slump as he wraps his arms around me. “Better now that you’re here.”
“Are you able to skip tomorrow’s game? Do hockey players get sick days?”
He hikes a shoulder. “I think it’ll make things worse if I don’t show up.”
I blow out a long breath through my lips. “I just wish Alex would wake up. I hate being in limbo like this.”
He nods, clenching his jaw. “Come on, let me give you guys a tour.”
The tour doesn’t last long, and my heart sinks when I take in the bare walls and lifeless rooms. It screams solitude, and I know the last four years couldn’t have been easy on him.
“What’s in this room?” Alyssa swings open the last door at the end of the hallway.
“Wait, that’s not?—”
Her eyes widen when she steps in the doorway. “Whoa.”
Chance reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not finished yet.”
Avery and I peer into the room, and a gasp leaves my throat. “Chance...”
He leans against the doorframe and watches me as I step further into the room.
One side has wall-to-wall shelves, filled with books. The other wall is accented with giant windows overlooking the city, with various types of comfortable chairs set up underneath that look perfect to curl up on while you’re reading. An easel stands in the far corner of the room beside a table with paint brushes and stacked canvases.
Avery glances over his shoulder, his eyes darting between us. “Is this for us? For me and Alyssa?”
Chance nods. “It was going to be a surprise.”
Alyssa clamps her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”
He chuckles. “It’s okay. I wanted you guys to have something to do when you come over. I wanted to make it feel more...inviting.”
I slip my hand into his and give it a squeeze. “You wanted to make it feel like a home.”
“Thank you.” Avery smiles, and nudges Alyssa.
“Oh, yes. Thank you!”
My stomach growls. Loud.
Chance’s eyebrows shoot up. “Uh-oh. Her stomach is growling. That only gives us five minutes.”
Avery holds up his wrist, pretending to glance at a watch. “Hurry! We have to get the beast fed!”
My mouth drops open. “I am not a beast.”
Alyssa pushes past everyone and runs frantically out of the room. “Get to the kitchen! Now!”
“I’ll get the plates,” Avery shouts as he and Chance scramble to get out of the room, leaving me behind.
I lift my arms and let them fall, slapping my palms against my thighs. “What the hell?”
“I love your nails.”
Chance smirks as he gazes down at his newly painted navy-and-silver nails. “I can’t tell her no.”
“Welcome to my life.” I lean my head against his shoulder, stretching my legs out on the couch. “It was really sweet of you to build that room for them.”
“I just want them to feel welcome here. I don’t know if I’ll be able to spend time at their house anymore.”
Guilt pricks at my gut. “I hate this so much.”
“Me too.” His voice lowers. “I’m scared.”
I lift my head to look at him. “Of what, baby?”
“Scared if Alexander doesn’t wake up; or if he does, that he won’t have a memory.” He swallows. “I’m scared that Stephen won’t be able to forgive me. Scared that I’ve ruined everything.”
“It’s not your fault, Chance.” I shift and straddle his lap, putting myself right in front of his face. “I know you have it in your head that you are the reason for your mother’s death, but your father was the one behind the wheel that night. He was the one who was drunk. He was the one responsible. You were trying to help your mother. You were just a kid.” I clutch his face between my hands. “You cannot hold onto this any longer, do you hear me? You have to stop blaming yourself, and let it go. It’s not serving you.”
A lone tear rolls down his cheek, and his bottom lip trembles.
“Let it go,” I whisper. Leaning in, I press a kiss to his cheek, swiping away his tears. “You don’t deserve this eternity of pain you’re forcing yourself to live in.”
His shoulders shake with his silent sobs.
I slide my arms and legs around his body, and squeeze him with all my might—with all of my love, as if it can heal him all the way to his soul.
“Life happens to us all, good and bad. The only things you can take responsibility for are the choices you make. You choose to drive drunk? Yes, that’s your fault. You decide to throw a punch, or cheat on your husband, or gamble all of your money—these are all choices you’d have to face the consequences of. But other things are accidents. They just happen, and I don’t know why, but I’d like to think we’re faced with them to make us stronger.”
He rests his forehead on my shoulder. “I don’t think Stephen sees it that way.”
“He has to navigate this for himself right now. You know, he’s never experienced trauma before. Me and you? We’ve lost people. We’ve suffered through grief. His life has been pretty much perfect up until this point, and he doesn’t know what to do with all of this pain. We have to be strong for him, and be patient while he figures this out.”
I lean back and tip his head to look into my eyes. “I have faith that he will come back to us. He just needs some time.”
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “We’ve already been apart for four years. What’s some more time, huh?”
I smile and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t give up on us, Grumpy Man. We’re going to make it out of this together.”
“You know, Stephen told me we’d find you again. He told me that we’d be together one day, and I didn’t believe him.”
“I’m sorry that I put you both through that.” I let out a sad sigh. “I’m sorry I put myself through that. It would’ve been so much easier to have you there, helping me through it. Then again, maybe it’s like what I said—maybe I needed to go through with it on my own. Who knows.”
“My mother always used to say that we don’t know what the reason for all of this is until we meet our maker in the sky.” A soft smile touches his lips as he remembers her. “I have a few choice words for this maker.”
I giggle. “You don’t talk too much about her. When was the last time you went to visit her grave?”
He shakes his head. “I haven’t. Not since her burial.”
My eyes widen. “I’d like to come with you someday, if you’ll let me.”
Chance brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes. “Okay.”
Well, that was easy. “Thought you’d put up more of a fight.”
“I’m done fighting. I just want to love you.”
I smile against his lips as he leans in. “That sounds great.”