Chapter 4 Kelcie
Kelcie
A year later . . .
With my back resting against the tree and sitting cross-legged on the grass, I stare at the three headstones.
I can’t believe it’s been a year since I lost them.
When I think back over the past twelve months, I don’t remember much. It’s as if time has gone by too fast and super slow all at once.
Some days are a blur, and then there are moments where the trauma is too much to handle. Unbearable grief digs its claws deeper into my soul and drags me down into a pit of despair.
It feels like I’m dying a slow and agonizing death. I haven’t cried since Jordan initially told me our parents and Sage were killed.
The sound of a phone ringing gets through to me and pulls me out of my morbid thoughts. I glance around the cemetery, and realizing it’s my phone, I dig the device out of my pocket.
Jordan’s name shows on the screen, and for a moment, I hesitate before answering, “Hey.”
“I’m at your house. Where are you?”
Crap, I only expected him this afternoon. I climb to my feet and dust off my backside while I keep looking at Mom, Dad, and Sage’s final resting place.
“Sorry, I felt like taking a walk. I’m at the cemetery.”
“I thought we were going together,” Jordan grumbles. “I’m coming. Wait there for me.”
I end the call and exhale a heavy breath. I thought I could visit on my own this morning before coming again later with Jordan.
Jordan will lose his shit if he finds out I spend every morning here. The mere thought of skipping a day always makes me spiral until I’m overcome by a severe panic attack. I just can’t bring myself to let go of them.
I lose track of time as I stare at the words carved into the granite headstones.
A hand falls on my shoulder, making my body jerk. When my head snaps to the side and I see Jordan, I relax.
“You can’t stand here so deep in thought. I could’ve been some random person,” he chastises me, an angry expression on his face. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble half-heartedly.
When Jordan keeps staring at me, I take a deep breath before meeting his upset gaze.
“It’s been a year, Kelcie. I’ve tried to be patient, but this has gone on long enough. I want you to move to Naperville. The guest room is ready for you.” Looking at the three graves again, I shake my head while Jordan keeps talking. “Goddamn it, you can’t stay here. We have to sell the house.”
“No!” My breaths begin to speed up so fast, and before I know it, a panic attack hits hard. “No,” I whimper while desperately trying to get air into my lungs.
“Shit. It’s okay,” Jordan says, his tone no longer angry but instead filled with worry.
He takes hold of my shoulders and leans down until we’re eye level with each other.
“Hold your breath for five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one.” I try my best to focus on my brother while doing the exercise Dr. Swafford gave me for moments like this.
I have medication to help, but I forgot it at home.
It takes a little too long, but when my breathing finally begins to return to normal, Jordan pulls me into a hug and brushes his hand up and down my back.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I just want you out of this damn town and living with me, where I know you’ll be safe.
Staying in that shitty rental that isn’t even properly decorated is stupid.
I never should’ve let you move back here. ”
During the first three months after the attack, I stayed with Jordan, Natalie, and Brady, but I could see my mental state, nightmares, and panic attacks were taking a toll on them, so I came back to Verona. It led to the biggest fight Jordan and I have ever had.
I can’t bring myself to go into my parents’ house, so I haven’t been to my workshop either.
I’ve put a notice on my website that I’m not taking orders.
The interest I receive from my share of the inheritance Jordan helped me to invest is enough for me to live on.
Luckily, I don’t have to worry about money while I try to pick up the pieces of my destroyed life.
If that’s even possible.
Instead of going home, I moved in across the street from Colby’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, because Colby told me the house was available.
It’s a fixer-upper, and I thought the work would keep me busy.
But I keep postponing things because I just can’t gather enough strength to get started with the repairs.
Not long after I moved in, the Richardsons, my neighbors on my left, sold their house and left Verona. Sometimes I think it’s because they didn’t want to live next to a woman who screams her head off every other day when she’s woken by nightmares.
At first, my neighbors came to check if I was okay, but when they realized it was just bad dreams, they stopped coming over.
It only took a couple of months for the Richardsons’ house to sell, and I got a new neighbor who keeps to himself and doesn’t seem bothered by me. I haven’t even seen the man up close, which suits me just fine.
My other neighbors, Jill and her daughter, Holly, are amazing. From what I understand, she’s a single mother and not interested in dating after she lost her boyfriend in a car accident a month before Holly was born.
I lift my hand and grip Jordan’s shoulder while I rest my cheek against his chest. My eyes burn with tears, but there’s no relief because they refuse to fall.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve said those words to my brother. “I can’t leave. I can’t . . .”
When my breathing begins to speed up again, he quickly pushes me back and locks eyes with me. “Shh . . . take deep breaths.”
My face crumples, but still no tears fall, and I close my burning eyes. “Today is extra bad.”
“I know.” Jordan places an arm around my shoulders and leads me to where his SUV is parked. “Let’s go to your place. I don’t think it’s doing you any good being at the cemetery.”
The drive to my house is filled with silence, and even though I stare out the window, I don’t take in any of my surroundings.
“How’s your new neighbor?” Jordan asks as he pulls up my driveway.
I glance at my brother and notice he’s looking at the man who’s busy throwing a ball for his dog on the stretch of grass between our houses.
“He’s quiet. Jill says he’s very antisocial. Apparently, he doesn’t speak to anybody and keeps to himself,” I reply as I push the passenger door open and climb out.
When Jordan walks toward my neighbor, I let out a sigh and wait by the front of the car.
“Hi,” my brother says, holding out his hand. “I’m Jordan Woodruff.”
“Hi,” the man replies, his eyes flicking to me before returning to my brother. “Levi Graye. Sorry, but I don’t touch people.”
Jordan hesitates for a couple of seconds before he lowers his hand. “My sister told me she got a new neighbor, and I thought I’d introduce myself.”
It’s the longest I’ve looked at Levi, and I notice he’s taller and more muscled than Jordan. I can’t make out his eye color, but he has black hair that’s ruffled, some of the strands hanging over his forehead.
No wonder Jill always mentions our new neighbor. He’s really attractive in a rugged way. I take in the white T-shirt and faded black jeans he’s wearing. His brown boots look as worn as I feel.
When the dog starts sniffing around Jordan’s legs, Levi murmurs, “Excuse me.” He pats against the side of his thigh, and the dog quickly follows him as they walk away.
Jordan keeps glancing at Levi’s house while he heads toward me, then says, “You weren’t lying when you said he’s quiet.”
I don’t comment and go to the front door. When we step inside the sparsely decorated space, my brother scowls at the single couch that doubles as my bed. I only go upstairs when I bathe or shower, and pretty much live on the couch.
“How are the security cameras?” Jordan asks as I go to the kitchen to make us some tea.
“They’re fine.”
“Do you even check that they’re still working? When did you last test the alarm?”
I glance at my brother. “Trust me, it’s the one thing I check religiously.” I drive the security company insane because I test it every two weeks. Luckily for me, they’re patient and put up with my obsessive behavior.
Jordan leans back against a counter and crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you still take your medication for the panic attacks?”
I let out a heavy breath before answering, “I’m trying to use it less. I can’t keep taking the pills forever.”
“What does Dr. Swafford have to say about it?”
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” I mutter as I begin to get annoyed.
“Kelcie—”
I turn to face Jordan and shake my head hard. “I get that you’re worried about me, but you have to stop. I’m fine. The security cameras and alarm work. I eat regular meals, and I take the medication when things become unbearable. But that’s as good as it’s going to get.” A breath shudders from me.
Jordan comes closer and places a hand on my shoulder. His features are torn with heartache. “You can’t heal here, Kelcie.”
My eyebrows draw together, and my eyes begin to burn again. “I’ll never heal. No matter where I go, it won’t help because I can’t move away from the memories.”
He lets out a sigh while pulling me into a hug and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “If you come to Naperville and you put some distance between yourself and this town, you’ll start getting better.”
I close my eyes, and not responding to what he says, I just stand still in his embrace.
Jordan will never understand.
After a few minutes, he lets go of me, and I finish preparing our tea before handing him a cup.
“Chamomile?” he asks as he follows me to the living room.
“Yes.”
Mom’s favorite.
I move the blanket and pillow to the side and sit down on the couch. Jordan takes a seat beside me, and we stare at the black TV screen and the window that looks out onto the front yard.
“The grass is getting long,” Jordan mentions.
“I’ll cut it tomorrow.”
“Want me to do it?” he asks, his tone soft as if the fight has left him.
It always happens when he spends time with me. My depression rubs off on him, and I hate it.
“No,” I reply, my tone hollow. “It’s something to do to keep me busy.”
Everything feels devastatingly empty around us. It’s as if I stopped living the night our parents and Sage died. I barely manage to exist.
At least Jordan still has Natalie and Brady to live for.
“You don’t have to drive out here anymore,” I whisper.
“Don’t start,” he grumbles.
“The phone calls are fine.” My fingertip traces the rim of the cup.
“Drop it, Kelcie. Driving from Naperville to Verona once a month won’t kill me.”
The moment the word leaves his mouth, my body jerks, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” He lifts his arm and wraps it around my shoulders. “I like the drive. It gives me some time alone.”
“Okay.”
“Talking about driving. Have you taken your car for its yearly service?”
I give him a sheepish look. “I haven’t driven in a long while. It probably won’t even start.”
Jordan lets out a sigh as he climbs to his feet. “Come on. Let me take a look.”
“You don’t have to. I can ask Malakai or Asher to check the battery.” The brothers took over the gas station and auto repair shop from their father when Mr. Woods retired.
Ignoring me, Jordan asks, “Where are the keys?”
I walk to the kitchen and pull open a drawer I use as storage for random things. I dig around, and finding the keys, I hand them to him before reluctantly following him to the garage.
While watching Jordan tinker with the battery, I stifle a yawn. I usually sleep between twelve and six in the afternoon. Since the attack, I sit up every night as if I’m waiting for the killers to come back, even though I know they’re locked away.
When my thoughts threaten to go down the dark path that leads to the worst night of my life, I shake my head and force myself to focus on Jordan.
“Yeah, the battery’s dead,” he mutters. “I’ll go get a new one quickly.”
“You don’t have to. I don’t use the car much. I’ll get it done when I need to drive somewhere. Getting a new one will be a waste of money.”
I can see Jordan isn’t happy with leaving the car like this, but he doesn’t say anything.
The doorbell rings, and my head snaps up.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Jordan asks.
“No. It’s probably Jill or Holly.” We leave the garage, and when I open the front door, Maggie Johnson smiles at me. She’s in her late sixties, her gray hair caught in a neat bun. She’s one of the sweetest people I know.
Holding up a pie, she says, “It’s cherry. I made too many for the inn and thought you’d like one.”
Maggie owns Sugar River Inn, and since the actor Easton Rowe stayed there and signed her wall, the place has become a favorite destination for his fans. I know she’s made time in her busy day to check in on me because it’s the one-year anniversary, and it warms my heart.
“Hi, Maggie,” Jordan greets her from behind me.
“Hi, Jordan. It’s so good to see you.”
I take the pie and smile. “Thanks, Maggie. It’s really kind of you.”
She gives us a compassionate look. “How are you both holding up?”
I turn sideways so Jordan can move closer, and let him answer, “We’re doing okay. Thanks for the pie. How’s business?”
“I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I have to hire more staff, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.”
Old me would’ve offered to help, but I can’t bring myself to say the words. Instead, I stand with the pie in my hands and a strained smile around my lips.
“I have to get back to the inn,” Maggie says, her eyes softening even more when she looks at me. “Don’t hesitate to call on me if you need anything.”
I nod. “Thanks, Maggie.”
“Don’t be a stranger around these parts,” she tells Jordan before walking to her car.
While Jordan shuts the front door, I go to the kitchen and place the pie on the counter. “You should take it with you.”
“You don’t want any?” he asks.
“I had a slice of apple pie at the diner yesterday,” I lie because I have no appetite. It will also make Jordan think that I’m not holed up in this house and at least going into town.
“Do you want to go grab some lunch?” he asks.
I shake my head. “With it being the anniversary, half the town is probably going to stop by to drop off food.”
“True. At least you won’t have to worry about making meals for the next week.” Jordan’s eyes meet mine, and for a long moment, we stare at each other before he murmurs, “I wish I could make things better for you.”
I wish we could visit without me dragging you back down with my grief and trauma.
“You do.” I force a smile to my face so it will ease his worry. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”
Jordan closes the distance between us and envelops me in a tight hug. “I love you, Kelcie.”
My chin begins to quiver, and my sight blurs with unshed tears. “I love you too.”