CHAPTER 38 #2
She paused a beat to give Roxy the time to appreciate the outcome. "Blake is the best thing that ever happened to her. And you know, maybe even one of the best for me too. She brought me back to my sisters once, and she made sure I didn't chicken out about coming to see you."
"In that case, perhaps to me too." At that point, Roxy knew Ellen was there for the right reason, and she hoped Ellen could see the same about her. "Ellen, you don't talk a lot about your mom," Roxy asked, carefully.
She didn't react for a second, then she nodded. "You're right, Roxy. It's still difficult for me, even after all these years. But we need to learn more about each other and my mother is a big part of my history. Her death can explain a lot about my personality today."
Roxy took her eyes off the road for a few seconds. Just long enough to make eye contact with Ellen. She was putting trust in Roxy, but she couldn't help herself but wonder if she deserved it.
"How was your mother? I already know she died in 2012 from leukaemia, but nothing more."
Ellen took a long breath, eyes still on the glass.
"Although I'm much like my father, Tay mirrors our mother.
She was a strong woman who faced her illness with courage and strength.
She did everything she could to stay fully with us until the end.
However, she knew when the end was near.
She didn't always know what to say, but she never pulled away. Even when it was hard."
"She knew about you being gay?"
"Tay and I had decided to come out together, with Jessie by our side. It never happened, because that same evening, our parents told us that my mother had cancer."
Her voice softened. "Everything happened too fast. We didn't want to have this big announcement on the top of everything and the stress my parents were under.
We wrongly believed we had more time to do it later.
" Ellen's voice trembled with the pain she was revisiting.
"My sisters and I will always regret that decision.
She got one month of aggressive and unsuccessful treatments, and in exchange, we had one last to say our goodbyes. "
Ellen closed her eyes for a few seconds.
"On her deathbed, she simply told us that the girls we would meet would be the luckiest girls in the world. She knew this without us having to tell her."
A silence fell, and Roxy felt that this silence was to honour Marianne's memory. After a minute or two, Roxy found the courage to break it.
"Your mother was right. I would be the luckiest woman in the world if you gave me that chance."
Ellen smiled before caressing Roxy's thigh. A spark, even more intense than when Ellen had touched her in that little restaurant after their run, coursed through Roxy's body. Her fingers reached across the console, brushing against Roxy's and resting there.
***
The road narrowed as they approached their destination. The trees grew denser and taller, forming a canopy that filtered the golden light and soft green. Ellen leaned forward slightly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.
When the cabin came into view, she breathed a sigh of relief, as if to say that the first leg of their weekend had gone well. At least, that's what Roxy hoped.
"Here we are," Roxy said, also with relief, as she pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine.
They quietly got out of the car. Roxy couldn't help but watch Ellen roll her shoulders back and lift her face toward the trees. She took a deep, slow breath. She didn't need to say anything for Roxy to understand how much strength it took for Ellen to be with her today.
Roxy walked around the car to the back and opened the trunk. She took care of bringing the bags inside the cabin, refusing Ellen's offer to help. "Please let me do this for you," Roxy replied with a smile.
The wooden floor of the cabin creaked under their first steps. Ellen entered first, slowly. Her fingers brushed the edge of a table, the fireplace, and the door frame.
"No signal," she said, checking her phone.
"None," Roxy replied. "But I brought a satellite phone. Just in case."
She nodded once and continued walking, exploring the small cabin. "I'll take the room on the left," she added. "If you don't mind."
"Perfect," Roxy replied, much too quickly. Of course, Ellen noticed, but she didn't comment. Roxy had no hopes or expectations that they would sleep together in the same room.
Roxy followed Ellen to her room, where she paused in the doorway. The room was simple: a large bed, two lamps, and a dresser. She stood there for a moment, then entered and set her bag down at the foot of the bed.
Ellen remained silent as she turned back to Roxy. Her arms were crossed, but not tightly. Her mouth was relaxed. Roxy stayed in the doorway, refusing to rush Ellen in any way. "This place," she said finally. "There's something special about it. It's like it's holding its breath."
Roxy took a step inside the room. "I think so too."
Ellen looked her in the eyes. "You really thought of everything, Roxy," she said in a calmer voice. "The coffee. The silence. The space."
"All I want is for you to feel safe, with me by your side."
"I think I am, thank you." She looked down at her hands. Then she looked up again, more slowly and deliberately this time. "I'm tired, Roxy. I'm tired of being angry all the time and pretending it doesn't hurt anymore." Her voice broke slightly, but it seemed to have a liberating effect.
Roxy moved cautiously and slowly toward Ellen and simply said, "You don't have to pretend. Not here, not with me."
"I don't know how much longer I could do it anyway," she said.
Ellen leaned back against the wall and her gaze fell on Roxy's mouth. And it wasn't unintentional. Ellen was filled with desire. Just enough to make Roxy freeze.
Neither of them spoke, letting the moment stretch out slowly. Then Ellen exhaled softly, as if letting something out of her body she'd been carrying for too long.
Ellen stood up and moved away from the wall. "I'm going to make a fire," she said, wiping her hands lightly on the sides of her pants. "Do you mind?"
Roxy shook her head. "Go ahead. I'll unpack my bags."
She nodded once, then turned toward the hallway, while Roxy stood still for a moment, the weight of Ellen's gaze still clinging to her skin.