Chapter 20
CHELSEA
I spent the whole ride home from Seamus’s place with my heart—and brain—on a roller coaster. There were moments when I couldn’t stop thinking about how incredible he was. Swooning, even, when I thought about how we’d been together. How we’d felt.
My body hurt, but in the best way. Even sitting in my car sent a delicious, bruised ache through my lower half. Taking that walk up the mountain had been an exercise in careful strides.
But then I thought of the walk, and what we’d talked about—and everything that had happened the night before—and I’d be wracked with panic so strong it sent adrenaline coursing through my body.
I was so ashamed I hadn’t been able to find the right words for him when he shared what he had about his brother.
But it had scraped me raw, thinking about my own mom.
How I’d held the only person who really knew me in my arms as she took in her last breath. How I’d not only not talked to anyone about what that was like, I’d also tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. I’d numbed myself to it.
I shouldn’t have said that thing about the paintings—how could that compare to what had happened to him? It was too much, his faith in me.
When I pulled into the parking lot at my place, I pulled out my phone, switching it on for the first time since last night. I was met with a barrage of texts, almost all from Eli.
But there was one from Dad, confirming our lunch date today.
My stomach roiled. The last thing I wanted to do was meet with Dad, to hear whatever it was he’d been trying to talk to me about.
I knew it was going to be something about his regrets at leaving, and maybe his disappointment that we’d barely seen each other since he’d gotten back.
I couldn’t do it, not today. I typed a quick reply, apologizing but telling him I needed to reschedule again.
I didn’t even look at the messages from Eli. First, I’d have a shower and maybe another gallon of coffee. Then some pills for the headache gathering at the base of my skull.
But when I got upstairs and pushed through the door to the hallway, I froze.
Eli was sitting slumped over against the wall outside my door.
“Eli!” I exclaimed, making him jump. He’d been asleep.
“Chelsea.” My brother stood up, shaking his leg out like it was asleep.
I’d never seen him look so awful. Actually, that wasn’t true.
When he’d visited me shortly after his divorce from Kelly, he looked wrecked like this—bags under his eyes, lines on his forehead too deep for his years.
I think he might have looked like this at Mom’s funeral, too, but I hadn’t been looking at anyone too closely then.
But now, it was that bad and worse. He sagged as he stood, and even from here I could see the knuckles of his right hand were crusted over with blood.
Guilt rang through me. I’d spent the night tangled up in Seamus—Eli’s best friend—while he’d been so hurt. Emotionally and physically. And I’d taken away the one person he turned to when he felt this bad.
I walked down the hall to him, thinking of all the times he’d come down here all jovial, asking if I wanted to walk to the hotel with him. Or those times he’d pranked me and Cass by jumping out at us as we opened the doors to our apartments.
“Chelsea,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”
“Have you been out here all night?" I asked.
"I slept for a bit," he said. Then he hesitated. “Chelsea…”
But I shook my head, lifting his hand in both of mine to inspect it.
When I pressed on his knuckle, he winced. But when I pressed the tendons on the back of his hand, he cried out.
“Eli, I think you’re really hurt. You might've broken your hand.”
“I’m fine.” He wiggled his fingers, and while he was clearly in pain, I thought that probably meant they weren’t broken.
At least there was that.
"This is my fault," I whispered, feeling my throat constrict.
Eli gave a sad smile; a painful shadow of his normally prize-winning grin. “Did you know that when we were kids, Mom told Dad never to get any of us into trouble in front of you?”
I frowned, dropping his hand and opening the door to my apartment. I held it for Eli, and he followed me in, slumping down at my kitchen table.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’d always cry, like it was your fault we were getting in trouble. You didn’t talk much then, but I swore you wanted to take the blame for whatever we’d done. Even if you weren't there when it happened.”
I kept my first aid kit above my fridge and I pulled it out now, along with a clean rag from under the sink, which I held under the tap for a moment, soaking it with warm water. I was surprised by this revelation.
"I don't remember that,” I said, once I’d shut off the tap.
"We took advantage of you, me and Jude. Not badly, but if we knew we were going to get in trouble, we made sure you were around. Dad would have to comfort you then and go easy on us because of how upset you got.”
“Did Griffin know about that?” None of my brothers were the type to shift blame—not now—but even back then, as kids, I couldn’t see Griffin going for that.
He was never scared of anything. He’d often stand up for us in front of our parents—and then levy his own decision later in the deliverance or withholding of his support going forward.
“Hell no. He’d rat us out if he saw us doing that. That’s how Mom found out.”
Eli laughed, but it faded as he looked at me again as I sat next to him and began dabbing at his knuckles with the damp rag.
Even though I was looking down, I saw his eyes dart to my forehead. How could they not when I was so close, angled right to him?
“Punching the wall was stupid, Eli.”
“I know it was. And I feel like fucking garbage for scaring Winona like that. I know she’s been through some stuff. But unlike you, she answers her phone.”
I dabbed a little harder then, and he sucked in a breath. I didn’t answer my phone because I’d been doing all the things I wasn’t supposed to do with his best friend all night, and we both knew it.
“Chelsea, whatever you and Seamus have going on is none of my business,” he said, as if reading my mind.
“That’s not true,” I said, picking up the gauze. “Seamus is your best friend. You’re allowed to have an opinion.”
“But it's not like I have any say over who he dates. Even if it’s my sister.”
Eli rubbed the bridge of his nose with his other thumb and forefinger. “But that’s not the worst of it. I said I was worried about you…”
“Chewing him up?” I supplied.
“Yeah.” He grimaced, dropping his hand. “That wasn’t fair. If anyone has a shit love life, it’s me. I fell head over heels for a woman who I don’t think ever really loved me.”
My heart squeezed. “Eli, come on.”
“Do you know she sent me a letter the other day? I haven’t been able to open it. It’s sitting on my kitchen table like an unexploded landmine.”
He saw my concerned expression and shrugged.
“It’s okay. I know what love is, and she didn’t feel it the way I did.
” As if he didn’t know what to do with himself, he ran a thumb over the woodgrain of the tabletop, smoothing some invisible flaw.
Then he dropped his hand again. “Hell, maybe I didn’t either.
I don’t know. I think sometimes I was obsessed with the idea of loving someone, of being romantic.
But they’re not the same thing. So… maybe you dating whoever you wanted, then cutting them loose—maybe that’s the better strategy. ”
I let out a laugh at that one as I began packing up the first aid kit. “Eli, are you kidding? I wasn’t happy with any of those guys.”
“Yeah, but you never fell for anyone—that’s smart. You waited until love found you.”
I dropped the roll of tape on the ground, where it landed with a deafening clatter.
Love?
“Eli, Seamus and I… we’re not even dating.”
“Come on, I see the way you two look at each other. I saw him looking at you like that before the crash even happened.”
The room seemed to contract around me, and for a moment, all I felt was the quickening of my own pulse. Love was not something I knew how to deal with. It wasn’t something I wanted. Love meant sharing everything.
Talking.
Baring your soul. And I’d already shared too much with Seamus.
Besides, Eli was just speculating.
“He’s not in love with me, Eli. It’s just… we’re just…”
Eli frowned, then seemed to finally get that what he was saying was freaking me out. “You’re right. I don’t—it’s not like he’s said anything to me. It’s just… I’ve never seen you look calm like I have over the past few weeks, Chelsea. It’s a good thing.”
I swallowed, the tiniest wash of relief settling on me as I zipped up the pack maybe a little too hard.
“Hey, Chels, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“How can I forget—” I swallowed hard. Calm.
He said I seemed calm. I didn’t feel calm.
I felt the opposite of calm. When I looked down, my hand was shaking.
I shoved the kit on top of the fridge, then turned around, gripping the top of one of my chairs.
“Eli, that crash… it told me I needed to change some things. And up until yesterday, I thought I had. I’ve barely talked to my friends from before.
” I thought of Mia and Lola—God, Lola. I wished she was here so I could stroke her fur and hold her sweet, wiggly body.
She’d been the next best thing to a hug with Mom. After Seamus, maybe.
I swallowed. Seamus had made me feel that safe.
“Last night was the first time I touched alcohol since the night of the crash,” I said, “and I tried—I vowed—I’d stay away from men.
I have all these other plans too—I want a house.
I want a dog. I want a…” I bit back on the my own business part seeing as Eli was the CFO of the Rolling Hills and would probably freak out if I told him I didn’t want to work there anymore.
“I just want a lot of things and instead of going forward, I feel like I’ve taken a big step backward. ”