Chapter 20
My hand hangs in the air for a brief moment, as I hesitate to knock.
The Chief sent Elena straight home, right after we returned to the station.
He was already briefed on her relentless endeavors to save all the people on the train, and on her injuries.
There had been something in his eyes. A glint of worry, a fatherly compassion.
It had been brief and was replaced almost immediately with a stern scowl that made me shiver from acute anxiety.
After a lecture about how firefighters are supposed to keep themselves safe first before helping others, he had placed his hand on her shoulder and looked deep into her eyes.
The order for her to go home was undeniable, and even though Elena’s shoulders had sagged, she had not fought it.
I offered to take her home, but she shrugged it off, saying she was fine and that it wouldn’t make sense since both of our cars were here to begin with. That was hard to argue with, so I just stood there as she limped away. But even before she had driven off, I felt my blood stir.
My stomach clenched uncomfortably, as her taillights disappeared from view. It had taken me exactly three hours and forty-two minutes before I decided to go to her apartment.
Nobody should be alone when they feel like that. Especially not Elena.
I run my hand through my hair and then smooth out my shirt.
I bite my lip and close my eyes briefly, before inhaling for four seconds.
Hold. And then exhale for four again. I move my hand before I can stop myself and knock on the door.
Three times in rapid succession. Hard enough to be heard, but not so hard it’s overwhelming.
There is some shuffling on the other side of the door, but it remains closed.
I rest my palm and forehead against it, knowing what Elena is doing.
“El,” I say with my lips close to the door, my breath heavy behind my ribs. “I know you are there. Please let me in.”
My plea is soft and my voice almost breaks on the last few words. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to swallow. She shuffles again, closer to the door now.
“Go away, Maya.”
Her voice sounds strained, lacking its usual poise and certainty. The thin sound is almost enough to make my heart break, and I gasp for air.
“Elena, please.”
I almost lose my footing as the door is yanked open and she stands there in front of me—eyes blazing with frustration, exhaustion, and something else I can’t quite place. I stumble to keep myself upright, as she lets her gaze drop down over my body.
“What do you want?”
She recoils so quickly when I reach out my hand, that for a moment I fear that I’ve hurt her. I withdraw it and stare at her, frozen on the spot and uncertain of what to say.
Elena frowns and tilts her head. The negative energy coiling around her like dark waves in the depths of an ice-cold ocean—its tentacle fingers reaching out to scorch and burn all those who dare to come too close. Don’t you see, Maya, she thinks she has to go through this alone.
“Carter, what are you doing here?” She snaps again, her voice clipped.
“I just want to be here for you, Elena. I can’t bear the thought of you being alone right now. Please let me stay? We don’t have to talk or anything. I’ll happily sit at your kitchen table and keep my mouth shut, but I really can’t…”
“Keep your mouth shut like you do now?” She deadpans.
Her eyes are dark and slightly squinted.
If she could stare daggers at me, she would have.
But why? Earlier she seemed to want my touch, my presence.
When the EMTs were working on her, she had begged me not to leave, and so I stayed. What changed?
“El,” I whisper, unable to keep the despair from my voice.
I see the muscles in her jaw roll as she keeps her gaze pinned on me. Her nostrils flare just before she tilts her chin, and I can feel the blow even before she delivers the punch.
“I’m in no mood to be an inspiration for your article, Carter. Leave me alone,” her voice drips with disdain.
Elena stills for a moment, almost as if she shocked herself, but then tilts her chin again and narrows her eyes at me.
It feels like a rubber band snaps inside my stomach so violently that I gasp for air.
My bottom lip trembles and I can’t help but frown at her words.
Is that what she thinks this is? Some ploy to get an inside scoop on how firefighters deal with days like today?
I shudder and shake my head, opening my mouth to protest.
“I wasn’t… I’m not here to…”
The words tumble over each other, but don’t seem to come out the right way. I suck in a deep breath and shake my head again.
“I’m not some caged animal up for display,” Elena snarls.
The blow lands so hard, that I physically startle back at her words.
My gaze travels up to find hers, but I am only met with those raging, blazing eyes.
This fury that she lashes out at me. I can barely recognize the strong and caring lieutenant that made kids stop, drop, and roll.
That jumped into dirty water head first to save a kid from drowning.
The woman who held me tight when I was shaking.
Instead, I am met with an ice-cold wall of stone. She doesn’t want you here.
“I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
It’s that last lashing, that makes my eyes burn and my hands twitch.
I swallow hard before I nod once more and turn around on my heels.
After three steps I hear soft cursing behind me and I fold inward even further.
It was never my intention to upset Elena.
I just wanted to be there for her, as she had been for me. It looked like she could use… a friend.
Slender fingers curl around my bicep and keep me in a hold so tight that I come to an abrupt stop.
The grasp is almost desperate and needy, nothing like the cold words she’d just thrown at me.
I startle and whip my head toward my side, the tears falling from my eyes with the sudden motion.
Elena stares at me, a deep line between her eyebrows.
She scans my face, my eyes, like she did that day in the ambulance.
As if she is searching for answers to questions she hasn’t asked me yet.
She opens her mouth as if she wants to speak, but then closes it again, loosening her grip on my arm but not letting me go just yet.
Her frown deepens as she stares at the ground, swallows, and then looks back at me again.
“I…shouldn’t have said that,” she whispers so softly that I can barely hear it. “Please don’t leave.”
Her eyebrows twitch and her bottom lip trembles slightly as she utters the words.
Then she swallows and schools her face back into that controlled neutral mask.
The ease with which she does it startles me, but I can see her eyes flicker over my face and feel her nails dig a little deeper into my arm.
“Do you… want to come in?”
Her question almost sounds like a plea. I am not sure if she asks it because she wants me there, or because she feels guilty about what she said.
My eyes dart toward her door and then back to her face, as if I can find the answer somewhere in between.
Maybe it is better if I don’t. Her reaction to my being here was so strong, that I don’t want to risk frustrating her more when what she needs the most right now is relaxation.
I part my lips and lick them unconsciously as I’m about to answer, but her eyes dip lower and stay on my lips as she cuts me off.
“Please, Maya,” she begs now. “I want you too.”
Her eyes flick up to mine again. I feel the tears well up as I nod softly.
“Okay,” I say softly.
“Okay,” she repeats, the word not much more than air moving.
She gently lowers her hand to my wrist and tugs me softly toward her door, her hand finding the small of my back as she guides me inside. The warmth of her hand feels pleasant and makes the skin tingle, even under my shirt.
We walk through the small hallway into her living room and I try my best not to let my eyes wander.
Elena’s apartment is different than what I had expected it to look like.
It doesn’t look tight and clinical, but warm and lived in.
Nothing like the hard and professional mask that she wears at the station, but more like the woman I had dinner with and who comforted me when I panicked.
I take in a deep breath and smell the sandalwood that always seems to cling to her skin.
It nestles deep in my chest and I exhale in near pure bliss.
I gaze into the living room, where warm light streams in through two large windows and over the wooden floor.
The doors to a small balcony are open and inviting.
I smile softly and let her guide me to a comfortable couch that looks out on the kitchen, only divided by a small bar.
“Do you want some tea?” Elena’s voice sounds deep and rough, but calm now.
I turn my head to face her and softly shake my head. My hand reaches out to cup her cheek.
“Let me,” I whisper.
I take her hands in mine and turn her, gently pressing her against the couch. Her eyes grow large and she parts her lips as if she wants to protest. I cut her off before she can even think about it.
“Any specific flavor you like?” I quirk my eyebrow.
Elena shakes her head and keeps quiet as she watches me walk toward the kitchen.
My heart breaks open, knowing how much it must cost her to let someone take care of her for once.
I immediately make it my mission not to disappoint her, and when I set my mind to something, failure is no longer an option.
I set the teapot down and place two mugs on the table without a single question.
Elena is standing on the balcony, looking out over her street.
I doubt that her eyes can see anything since she appears to be in deep thought.
Her shoulders are slightly folded in and there is a soft frown between her eyebrows.
But it’s her eyes that gut me. Those warm, beautiful, dark eyes stare into nothing, seeing something I probably can’t even fathom.
As I pour the tea, I fight the strong urge to ask her about what happened.
Something clearly went wrong underground, but none of them wanted to talk about it.
They did not even tell Rosa and Nando what happened, but they somehow understood.
There were no questions asked. As a journalist, that kind of silence tells me more than any answer ever could.
I took my notes and tucked them away carefully.
But being here as Elena’s… as her what really? …as her friend, withholding those words isn’t as easy.
I add a little drop of honey to both mugs, pick them up, and casually stroll over to the balcony. Without a word, I hold one of the mugs out to Elena. She glances at it once, shakes her head, and reaches for the cup in my other hand. I lift an eyebrow but let her take it from me.
“It’s my favorite,” she just shrugs.
My eyes dart to the mug. It is a bright warm yellow, like the color of the sun on an early spring morning, with embossed vines running over it. Her fingertips absentmindedly trace them now and I smile. Just like that, I have a favorite cup too.
When I look up, Elena’s eyes are on mine.
There is something soft in there. Her mouth relaxes for a brief moment.
It’s not quite a smile, but something moving away from the storm raging inside of her.
I let out a soft breath and move my gaze to the street, my shoulder so close to her, that I can feel the heat of her body.
The silence between us isn’t loaded, it’s familiar and safe.
I almost lean into her, but stop myself just in time. I don’t want to push her away again.
We stand side by side until the sun moves below the buildings and the air gets a chill to it.
The moment I shiver, Elena turns to me and lets her gaze drop to my bare arms. I rub them quickly to get rid of the goosebumps that are popping up, but she has already seen them.
She tilts her chin slightly and nods her head toward her living room.
I reluctantly move inside and stand there awkwardly. It’s probably time for me to go.
Elena closes the balcony doors and walks over. For once she isn’t striding, and her footsteps are softened by her socked feet. I barely hear her coming before she puts her warm hand on the small of my back again and guides me to the couch.
“Sit, please,” she asks with a soft voice.
“Are… are you sure?”
She hums and nods before sitting down and patting the cushion next to her.
A gentle smile tugs at my lips and I sit next to her.
She is so close I can smell that mix of sandalwood, honeydew, and something that belongs to Elena alone.
I inhale it deeply and place my hand in between us without giving it a second thought.
Elena’s eyes travel down and then back up to mine again.
My lips tug upward slightly as I keep her stare.
Not forcing a single thing, but not retracting either, even though butterflies flutter through my stomach.
My breath gets caught in my chest, wondering if she’ll take it.
Carefully Elena lets her long fingers inch closer, before they slip into mine.
When I softly close my hand around hers, she sighs and leans back.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “For staying when I made it so easy for you to leave.”
I see a quick frown appear on her face, then vanish the next second, almost as if she flinches away from her own feelings. I don’t speak, but softly run my thumb over her smooth skin. She sighs again and for the first time since the crash, I see her relax.