27. Clayton
Chapter 27
Clayton
“You want to go on a road trip? Now?”
Kieran beamed at me. “I’ve always wanted to. We can leave after dinner. We can swing by my place and grab a couple things, and then get out of here.”
I wanted to go. More than anything, it sounded like a fairy tale. Like the perfect adventure. Kieran and I escaping to the open road, just the two of us and miles of pavement.
“I can’t.” I protested, even though it killed me. Saying no was like stabbing myself in the heart. I wanted to go more than anything. I wanted something fun. Something adventurous. Something just for the two of us. But not like this. Not with Archer and Shane’s disapproval hanging over our heads like guillotine blades waiting to drop.
“You can’t?” Kieran sounded sad and confused.
“I want to,” I assured him. I took his hand in mine and laced our fingers together, hoping my touch would help him see just how much I meant it. “I don’t want to run away from Shane and Archer’s opinion. If you—if we care for each other, then we’re going to have to face them again eventually. I know I will never, ever be Shane’s favorite person, but I don’t want to be the cause of a problem between the two of you. I’ve been hiding for a long time, Kieran. Long before I met you. Long before I ruined my life. I’m tired of hiding. Of running. Of making bad choices over and over expecting good results. I owe Archer a lot of things that I can never give him. Money. Trust. Our friendship. But I can give him an apology. He deserves that much.”
Kieran lifted my hand and kissed it. The sweetness of the gesture had my chest tightening.
“If someone told me six months ago that I’d be here, in a place that felt safe with people who cared about me, I’d have laughed at them. But I’m here, and I want to earn this second chance I’ve been given. And I can’t do that by running away and pretending that my continued presence isn’t an issue for Shane. He put a lot on the line to help me.”
“He helped you for Archer’s sake.”
I shrugged. “That’s semantics.”
“You’re determined to do this, aren’t you?”
I knew in my bones that it was the right thing to do. Even the idea of talking to Archer had my skin crawling with shame, but maybe if I cleared the air a bit, that lingering sick feeling in my soul would go away. I could never take back what I did, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have to face Archer ever again.
“I am.”
“After dinner,” Kieran said. “I want to see these softball-sized meatballs you made.”
Giving his shoulder a playful shove, I laughed. “I hate to disappoint you, but your mom fixed them and made them into proper meatballs.”
“My mom likes you.” Kieran seemed pleased with this assessment and, though part of me knew she did, it was still a welcome feeling to have it confirmed.
“I like your mom. She makes it hard to want to leave, even though I know I have to.”
“What if you don’t?” Kieran asked .
“That was the agreement. I could stay here until I healed.”
“That was your agreement with my brother. Not with mom. I think maybe Archer isn’t the only person you need to have a conversation with.”
“You’d really be okay with me staying here?” I blinked at him. He said he loved me and I wanted to believe him. Part of me actually did. Part of me was afraid that he didn’t. Or that I didn’t know what to do with that information.
“I want you safe. I’d let you move in with me if you were ready for that, but you’re not.” Kieran brushed the hair off my forehead. “It’s getting long.”
“I kind of like it,” I told him. Hair was a safe subject while I grappled with the idea of talking to Patricia, and then Archer. Hopefully Shane too.
“I kind of like it too.” Kieran leaned in and kissed me. Every kiss with him was a treasure. A gift that I never thought I’d receive. I didn’t understand what he saw in me.
Kieran agreed that after dinner we’d track down Shane and Archer. And before dinner I wanted to talk to Patricia about extending my stay. I found her in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. Kieran used the bathroom to give us a few minutes of privacy.
“I’m sorry about the scene in the back yard earlier. I didn’t mean to cause problems.”
She turned and wiped her hands on a towel. “You didn’t cause anything.” She gently patting me on the arm.
“I—” I paused and raked my hand through my hair. It was still odd to be without the cast after living with it for what felt like an eternity. “I know the agreement was for me to stay until I was healed, but I—I’d really like to stay. If I can?”
Patricia looked at me, her face a picture of the kind of motherly affection I’d been starved for as a kid.
“Until you’re healed,” Patricia said, then she brushed the hair off my forehead and pulled me down to her level. She pressed a kiss to my forehead then let me straighten. She looked me in the eyes. “All of you deserves to be healed, Clayton. Not just your arm and your leg. Your mind and your heart are also important.”
“Can you… call me Clay?”
She smiled and put her hand on my cheek. “Can you call me Mom?”
“I’d like that.”
Kieran appeared and slid his arm around me. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? I hope you don’t mind if I steal him tonight?”
“So long as you bring him back in one piece. I think Michael has his heart set on more art lessons.” Patricia shot me an approving smile. “What you did meant a lot to him. As you can imagine, he’s had a rough go of it lately.”
I didn’t want or need to ask what had happened, clearly nothing good for him and his mom to end up here.
“I’ll have him home by lunch tomorrow.”
Kieran calling this place home made me want to pinch myself. But I settled for turning my head and kissing him instead.
Dinner was a nice reprieve from the earlier stress and the knot of anxiety that grew in my stomach when I thought about talking to Archer. Maybe Kieran had the right idea. Get in the car, pick a direction, and go. But I was done running from things that made me uncomfortable.
We found them both at The Anchor, Shane behind the bar. Part of me wished Shane had gone home, but the other part of me was just as glad to not have to intrude on their private space. Kieran held the door open for me and walked close to my side, keeping a hand on the small of my back. I welcomed the moral support.
Shane’s expression darkened at the sight of me, but he grabbed a couple of glasses.
“Beers?” he asked us.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said to him, but Kieran accepted the drink. Shane filled two glasses anyway. He slid one to Kieran and kept the other for himself.
“I have a feeling I’m going to need this.”
“Before I go find Archer, I wanted to thank you personally. You didn’t have to do any of the things you did for me.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” he said.
Shane still clearly disliked me, but I got the feeling that he might not murder me in my sleep.
“I know, but why you did what you did matters less than the impact it had on someone.”
Shane stared at me for a minute before another bartender appeared and gently shoved him out of her way. “Move your ass, Taggart, and let a girl do her job.”
She turned her attention to me. “Can I get you something?” She was bubbly and sweet, but there was a sharp edge to her that I liked. It was obvious she didn’t take Shane’s shit either.
“Is Archer around?” I cut a glance over to Shane, who sighed and rolled his eyes.
“He’s upstairs. I’ll let you through the back.” He handed his drink to Kieran. “Grab a table for us.”
Sweat prickled at my skin like Shane was leading me to my demise, rather than a door that opened to a stairwell. A rather unremarkable stairwell .
“His shop is upstairs. It’s closed right now so you’ll have to knock. Get up there before Cyrus sees you.”
Cyrus was Archer’s brother and I had no interest in facing him just yet. Cyrus would always hate me and that was okay. I deserved his disdain. But I wanted to apologize to Archer without causing another scene, so I dutifully slipped through the door and went upstairs.
The door opened before I could knock. “Kieran texted me a thirty second warning.”
Archer didn’t move to invite me in.
“I can leave if you want.”
He shook his head and then stepped aside, letting me into his space.
Archer had a shop. It was obviously an apartment that had been converted into the perfect space for him. What would have been the living room was set up with his equipment. A couch sat against the wall at the other end of the room near the door. His portfolios were on the coffee table, neatly stacked.
I recognized every piece of art on the walls. Even ones I hadn’t seen before I recognized as being his work.
“You always were better than me,” I said, admiring a piece that highlighted his love of ‘80s movies.
“You never did give yourself enough credit,” he countered. He’d moved across the room from me, like he couldn’t stand to get too close.
“Archer, I—” My knees refused to hold me up for any longer and I found my way to the couch. Sitting down heavily, I forced myself to look up at him. “I can’t fix the things I broke. There’s no amount of money or time or apologies that can repair what I did to our friendship. I’m sorry for everything I did.”
Archer let out a sigh. I’d grown used to all his tells over the years, but I was having a hard time reading him now. He went to the kitchen and pushed himself up onto one of the counters and took a seat. He kept his hands on the counter at his sides as he kicked his feet back and forth. “I don’t want you to think I forgive you.”
I knew deep down that forgiveness was a long shot, but his words were still an arrow to my heart. It hurt, even though I knew it was coming.
“But I don’t want you to think I hate you. I’m not even sure I’m still mad at you. It was hard, seeing you in the hospital like that.” He paused to clear his throat. “It’s hard to stay mad at you knowing that whatever you put me through, you went through worse things. Knowing that you put me through hell, but I ended up here.” Archer waved his hand around the space. “I met Shane because of you. I might not ever be in a place where I want to be your friend, but I don’t want to be your enemy.”
“I’m sorry,” I choked out again. My eyes stung ferociously from the tears I refused to cry. “I didn’t think you’d even be willing to talk to me, let alone not hate me. You should hate me.”
“I did,” Archer said in a matter-of-fact way. “I hated you a lot. Every day I thought about you and what you did and it ate at me. And then I got tired of being eaten alive by it.” Archer hopped off the counter and I stood, somehow knowing that our conversation was coming to an end. “What you did took a lot from me, but we can’t go back and change things. I have an amazing life now, Clay.”
I tucked my hands in my pockets to hide the way they shook. I hadn’t felt this unsteady, uncomfortable, wrong-footed in weeks. Archer didn’t hate me and it should have felt like a gift. And though it wasn’t forgiveness, it felt like more than I deserved.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re happy, Archer. And your shop looks fantastic. I wish you all the success. ”
He nodded and I made my way to the door. I half thought Archer might call after me, but he didn’t. He let me slip out into the stairwell. I was glad he let me go, even though it hurt that he didn’t try to stop me. I didn’t want him to see the way my face crumpled and I finally lost my composure. A few tears managed to roll past my defenses before I was able to get control of myself.
I stood at the bottom of the stairs in a weird limbo between the bar and the shop upstairs and the door to the outside world. But I couldn’t hide there forever. Sucking in another deep breath, I dashed my tears away and ducked back into the bar to go find Kieran.