20. Andie
My gran’s letters are beside me as I stare at the cross just ahead. “I guess I’m struggling with everything I’ve done,” I say honestly.
“Your past?”
“Yes. The things I did after I left this place. The people I was with.” I swallow hard, trying to ease the blow of those particular words. For so long, I sought physical companionship just so I wouldn’t have to be alone. Often trading it for a warm bed to sleep in during the year I was homeless. There was no connection aside from my need for something.
I couldn’t even say I was attracted to some of the men I ended up with. And all the while, I knew in the pit of my stomach I was making mistake after mistake.
No matter how long I’ve been abstinent since, no matter how many showers I’ve taken, there is still a part of me that feels…unclean.
Pastor Redding nods, clearly understanding what I’m trying to say. “Your sins are forgiven,” he says. “You have been washed clean with the blood of Christ. Because of his sacrifice, your sins carry no sentence.”
“How am I supposed to let go and believe that I’m forgiven? That what I did doesn’t matter anymore?”
“Pray about it,” he replies. “Ask for guidance. Turn to the Word. I can tell you what I know as a pastor and a follower of Christ, but only you can make yourself truly understand.”
We fall into silence, and I consider what he’s said. Gran always said that every problem she’d ever had, from the smallest to the largest, was solved by turning to the Bible. I’ve read mine, sure, but have I really sought the truth written on those thin pages?
“How are things with Elijah? Is he doing better?”
I sigh. “Physically, he seems to be doing better.”
“But you’re worried. I can see it all over your face.”
“He’s just been short. I can’t seem to get a read on him. I couldn’t stand him when we first met. Honestly, I struggled with the idea that my gran liked him at all. He just seemed like such a grouch. Then I got to know him a little better and started thinking that maybe we could be friends.”
“And now?” he asks when I take a longer pause than usual.
“Now he’s put the walls back up and is getting mad when I try to help him.”
Pastor Redding chuckles. “Elijah doesn’t strike me as someone who asks for help very often.”
“He let my gran in,” I admit. “And I think that’s what’s frustrating me the most. I want to be friends. I want to know what he and Gran talked about because he’s one of the only living connections I have to who she was after I left.”
Pastor Redding pats the top of the box. “It looks to me like she left you another connection,” he replies. “Follow it and see where it leads you. And, if you’re looking for advice on Elijah—not that you are—let me offer this. Sometimes, we have to open ourselves up before we can reach those who need us the most.”
* * *
“Where is Michael?”I ask as I exit the church. Elijah pushes off the truck he’d been leaning against. I hate the way my heart jumps when I see him. The way my body comes to life in his presence.
“He got a call about one of our systems,” Elijah replies. “But he left us the truck.”
“Should you be driving?” I ask.
“I’ve been left with instructions to let you take the wheel,” he says with a half-smile as he holds up the keys. It’s honestly the lightest I’ve seen him since he was hurt.
“Good.” I set the box on the hood as I reach for the keys. Elijah pulls them just out of reach.
“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting.”
His apology catches me off guard, and I find myself staring up at him, unable to break eye contact with him.
“I—okay.”
“I’ve done things that make me less than proud and because of that, I carry a lot of guilt. As someone just pointed out to me recently, I have a habit of pushing people away. I’m sorry that you’ve taken the brunt of my frustrations lately.”
His words so closely mirror what I’d been talking to Pastor Redding about that I can’t help but wonder if we weren’t put together for this specific reason. We’re both struggling to let go of the previous versions of ourselves.
“Thank you for your apology. But I’m still driving.” I jump up and grab the keys from him.
He laughs, the first genuinely happy sound I think I’ve ever heard from him, then opens the driver’s side door for me. He grabs the box of letters from the hood and walks around to the passenger’s side.
Once we’re seated, Elijah sets the box of letters in his lap and buckles in.
I’m just backing out when a man steps behind the truck.
My first reaction is annoyance—why didn’t he look before stepping out? And then I get a look at the man’s face, and my stomach lurches.
“Stay here,” Elijah orders as he climbs out of the truck.
Nope. I will not have my past view me as weak.
“Care to explain why you just stepped behind my truck?” Elijah demands.
George doesn’t even look at him. His eyes are locked on me. “You are so beautiful,” he says softly. “Just like I remembered you.”
He looks almost the same. Hair slightly wavy on top, thick glasses perched on his straight nose. His clothes are even the same style he wore back when we left this town.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“I—my fiancée left me, so I came home. My brother said you were here. How long have you been here?” He takes a step closer, and Elijah slides in front of me. “I’ve missed you. I tried to reach out a few months ago, but your assistant wouldn’t let me through. I knew I had to see you. And here you are.”
“You don’t get to talk to her.”
For the first time, George directs his attention to Elijah, and his expression hardens. “This is not between you and me, Breeth. Surprised I know who you are? My brother told me all about you.”
Is that jealousy in George’s tone?
“Then he would have told you that I don’t tolerate predators,” Elijah snarls, taking another step closer.
George’s cheeks flush. “I am not a predator. She was?—”
“Eighteen when you left, sure. But how old was she when you started grooming her? Sixteen? Seventeen? Younger?” Elijah moves in closer, his hands clenching into fists. I reach forward and grab his arm.
“This is not the place for this, and he’s not worth it.” I tug Elijah back, and thankfully, he lets me. I’ve no doubt if he wanted to pull free, he could do so without so much as a grunt. Even injured as he is.
“Please, Annie, can we just talk? I know what happened to your grandmother and your mother. My brother told me. I want to be there for you. To help you.”
Annie. He’d loved to call me that. Said it was more feminine than Andie. That it fit me better. “My name is Andie. And no, we can’t talk. I have nothing to say to you.” I nudge Elijah. “Come on.”
“I will keep trying until you talk to me, Annie!” he calls out.
Elijah and I climb into the truck, and I try to steady my shaking hands as I turn it on and put the truck in reverse. After a quick check to make sure George is no longer behind me—although running him over would be ridiculously satisfying—I back out of the spot.
George is standing on the sidewalk in front of the church, staring after me, and I can barely breathe as I round the corner and leave town. But no matter the distance, I can still feel his piercing gaze on me.
* * *
When we arriveat the house, I jump out, leaving the box with my gran’s letters—and Elijah—in the truck. Going around the side of the house, I make my way down the old wooden stairs toward the beach, stopping only to remove my shoes so I can feel my toes sink into the sand.
It grounds me in a way nothing else does. I reach the water’s edge and take my first full breath. Aside from keeping up with his whereabouts for my own sanity, I haven’t seen or talked to George since the night before he left me.
We’d shared a bed, and he’d told me he loved me. Then I woke up in the morning, cold, broke, and alone.
Wrapping my arms tighter around myself, I try not to think about the fact that, somehow, he still makes me feel so small. So na?ve.
Elijah steps up beside me. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m just angry.”
“With who?”
“Myself mainly. I can’t even be mad at him. It’s so like him to seek me out at my lowest point.”
“You don’t look like you’re low to me,” he says softly.
I look over at him. “I gave that man every part of me. Even the pieces I should have kept to myself. And he used me then threw me away, just like everyone else has.”
“Your gran didn’t.”
I turn to face him. “But I used her, didn’t I?” A tear slips down my cheek. “I used her and then threw her away. The woman raised me, and I left her for him. For empty promises.”
“Andie.” Elijah reaches up and cups my cheek. His thumb caresses my skin, and the touch is so tender it soothes my soul. “You didn’t throw her away.”
“You aren’t reading her letters, Elijah.” I move away and face the ocean. Elijah drops his hand. “In every single one of them, she tells me that she misses me. That she wishes I would come home. And I didn’t. I stayed away because I was ashamed of who I was—of what I’d done.”
“You’ve done nothing that deserves shame.”
“You don’t even know me. You don’t know what I did for that year. The things I traded for a warm place to sleep. If you did, you’d let whoever is after me have me.”
He forces me to face him. “There is nothing you could have done that would have me turning my back on you.”
“It’s only a matter of time.” Panic claws at my chest, anxiety gripping me with iron claws. Seeing George pales in comparison to everything else I’m dealing with, so why is it that I’m spiraling like this? But I know the answer. It’s one more thing. One more ghost haunting me.
“Listen to me. No, it’s not. I am not going to leave you. I’m not going anywhere. You and I are in this together. Are you hearing me?”
“You already tried to shove me out the door.” The words are out before I can stop them, and I wish I could take them back. He apologized. I don’t need to hurt him with my insecurities.
“You scare me,” he whispers.
“What?” His words shove my anxiety to the back burner. “Why would I scare you?”
“I’ve been in more combat zones than I can count. I did things I wish I could forget. I’ve been shot, stabbed, tortured—” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again. “Blown up. And it’s you who terrifies me.”
“Why would I terrify you?”
“Because you make me—” He inhales again and keeps his gaze trained on me. The sunlight makes his eyes even brighter, bringing the colors to life. “You are constantly on my mind, Andie. I wake thinking of you. When I go to bed, I dream about you.” He steps in closer, and my heart skips. “You’ve seen what happens to me. The demons I struggle with.”
I know he’s talking about his PTSD. About attacking me before he was fully awake. Or, at least, he sees it as an attack. I recall the fear beneath the anger. The twisted terror in his expression. And that’s not violence. It’s pain.
“You didn’t hurt me, Elijah,” I remind him.
“But I could have. I could have…” It’s the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen him, and I’m afraid that saying anything right now will stop him from telling me what he’s thinking. “It makes any kind of relationship impossible. But you make me wish—” He bends down and leans his forehead against mine. We’re a breath apart with only the crashing waves as company. “You make me wish I deserved you.”
I tilt my face enough to offer the mouth I so desperately want him to kiss. “You told me that you thought of yourself as a lesser man,” I say. “But I don’t see you as anything less than everything I’ve always been afraid to want.”
Elijah snakes a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in. He hesitates just a moment, our lips a breath apart as the wind wraps around us. And just when I worry he’s going to back away, his lips touch mine—gently at first. A tender taste of what we’ve both been desiring.
But that simple meeting of lips only leaves me craving so much more. I lose myself in the kiss, warmth surging through me as need sings in my blood. I crave him. This kiss. His mouth moves effortlessly on mine as though the two of us were formed for each other.
Wrapping both arms around his waist, I tug him closer, and he deepens the kiss. The breeze continues to surround us, cocooning us in our own private reality where there’s no death. No danger. Just him and me.
For now.