Has to Be Love (28 page)

“But they detract from how I look.”

“Or maybe they add to it, because as much as I don't see them anymore, I know you do. Maybe it's just time to let that go. To find a way to not care. Elias really doesn't care about the lines on your face. Rhodes probably liked you more for them. Everyone is going to see you differently, Clara, and honestly? I think it'll help you sort out the not-so-great people from the great people in a much simpler way.”

The familiar heat of worry and frustration and embarrassment rushes up my neck and over my face. A few tears escape down my cheeks. “I don't know how to feel okay about how I look.”

“You will.” Cecily rests her chin on my shoulder, still staring at me in the mirror.

I want it. I want to feel that so badly—to let go and just be. “I like the surgeon in Anchorage.”

“The one you barely saw?” she teases.

“Yeah … I think … I don't know. I'll go back, and maybe this time be more prepared.”

“Stay and talk longer than last time?” she suggests with a smile. “Maybe not throw up in her trash can?”

“Yeah.” And as I stare at myself in the mirror, I know I will. But this time, I can go in to see her knowing she'll be limited. Knowing I'll always have marks. The thought still swells in my throat, but at least I can think around that lump. Around the idea that I'll never look the way I would have if I hadn't taken a walk that day.

I blink a few times. “I miss my mom.”

“I can't even imagine,” Cecily whispers.

Lines. I'm not sure I'll ever see my face as just having a few lines.

“Let's get you food and find all the blankets in the house before I go, okay?” She finally releases me and walks out of the bathroom.

“You know you're like the bestest friend of all best friends, right?” I call after her. Not a replacement for Mom, but then no one would be. Still … still, I have people.

“Of course I know that! Which is why even if you can't come with me to New York this year, I'm gonna
drag
you next year.”

Right now I just want to get through the next few weeks with my dad. Next year might as well be a lifetime away.

37

Yeah. My brain? Not so cooperative. It's spinning. The house feels weird without Dad. I can't write, which is killing me because I feel like if I could get it all out, I'd be able to sleep. Instead of turning on the TV, I pull out my computer to check email. The first one is from Rhodes. Checking email was a really stupid idea.

Clara—

I know how news travels in that tiny town, and I also know I should have told you myself. I'm sorry about the way things worked out, or didn't work out, between us. No hard feelings. It was easy to forget how young you are. I hope we stay in touch, at least a little. My hotel in Anchorage sucks, but Greece will be amazing. Put it on your bucket list, okay?

Rhodes

I'm sure I should respond in some way, so I just write back a quick line telling him to have fun, biting my tongue over his age comment and saying I'll put Greece on my list. Done. Over. Still feels weird. At least he bothered to drop me a line.

I can't sit here. Shoving on my boots, I move for the back door, and instead of heading for the barn, I go left toward the trail where I got my scars. Where I lost Mom. We don't use this trail anymore, and the dried grass and leaves from the past few years have made the wide path harder to pick out.

The forest closes in around me as the light diminishes—partly from the dense trees and partly from the slowly setting midnight sun. What am I doing with myself? Why don't I know how to move forward? Every decision I've made has been wrong. Staying here makes me feel like I can't breathe, but so does leaving. A shiver runs down my spine, and I grasp my arms and start walking. This is the shortest path to the river from my house. Maybe the walk will clear my head.

I tap my phone in my pocket and my notebook, which hasn't done me so much good lately. And then I round the corner and stop. This is where Mom was killed—or not far from here. I turn back toward the house, which I can only barely see through the trees. How did Dad know we were here and needed help? Were we screaming? Was I? Mom?

My gut tightens, and my throat fills with the awful slime, making me swallow again and again. How did Dad know to save me? Maybe that's where my miracle that day was—in Dad being prepared enough to save my life.

As I pull in a long breath the thought hits me.
I'm so very lucky to be alive.
I am. I was smaller and not as fast and … it's a miracle I lived, and now I'm messing that all up.

My fingers tremble and I shiver again. This is not the time of year to be wandering around in the woods alone—too many moose headed back to the mountains and too many bears waking up after a long winter.

I walk toward the house, heart thumping, and break into a jog. But now my footsteps and breathing are so loud that I wouldn't be able to hear anything in the woods. I turn back to scan the trees around me as I run, but the forest is too dense to see anything but odd shadows, and I push harder. Harder. Heart pounds harder.

The second I break into the clearing behind the house, I gasp for air and rest my hands on shaky knees. What's wrong with me?

“Are you okay?” Elias is running from the driveway to where I stand.

Elias.

Is here.

I stand and shake out my hands. “Okay,” I wheeze.

A corner of his mouth tilts up. “Freak yourself out in the woods?”

“I was on …” I gasp in a few more breaths. “I was on the old trail.”

His half smile pulls into a frown. I don't have to explain with him. Elias knows what that place means to us. Because he knows me. My history. My family.

“I'm so lucky.”

His brows twitch in confusion. “I've heard you snap back at that comment too many times for it to not sound completely strange coming from your lips.”

“I could have died,” I say.
“Died.”

Like Mom.

“Yeah, I know.” He wraps an arm over my shoulders. “Let's get you inside.”

The familiarity of him spirals around me in comfortable warmth, and I follow him onto the porch.

Elias pauses before stepping into my house, and everything about him looks uncertain.

“I'm sorry,” I start, emotion welling inside me again. “I don't know how to choose anything right anymore.”

Elias shoves his hands in his pockets as we stand just inside the door.

“Is this totally weird?” I ask.

He rubs his forehead. “I'm just …”

I'm trying to breathe. “Do you still hate me?”

“Clara.” His voice is pained. “I couldn't hate you.”

My heart warms at the devotion because that's really what it is. “But I hurt you.”

He nods, and I step into him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“I'm so sorry. I was so stupid. I just … I don't know how to explain. It was too much. The wedding and everything, and I panicked. I wasn't ready to start a forever.”

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“I don't know.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm still just …” I back up to look at him. Elias is everything good and sweet and known and safe. “I'm glad you're here. Come in?”

He kicks off his shoes and walks through my dining room into the TV room. I might get back some of my stability, and I need it so bad.

We sit on the couch, close but not so close we'd accidentally touch—but not on opposite sides either, so we might be getting
something
back. He's been my friend for too long for me to give up on us completely.

“Do you need to talk? About being lucky or your dad or …”

“No.” I shake my head. “Not right now. I can piece that together later. What … what do you want to know? I'm guessing you have questions for me.” And how many times will I hate myself for asking?

“I need to know what happened. With you. Me. Why we split for real. What happened when we were apart.” Elias leans back and turns his head toward me, almost resigned. “This is horrible,
horrible
timing. So we can do this later. I thought I could come and be here with you just to make sure you weren't alone, but … I don't think I can without answers.”

What I'm about to do to him claws at me, and my chest aches because I know everything I tell him about Rhodes will make him feel as horrible as I do—or worse.

Elias's sad features deepen when I don't say anything so I just start. I tell him about how Rhodes came for dinner before that first day of him substituting in school and how he stood too close and made me confused, and Elias's brows rise in surprise that it all started so soon, which makes me feel worse, which makes me talk faster.

I tell him about Rhodes and my writing and college and how I got so mixed up in what I thought I wanted. And how part of me was sad Elias wouldn't break the rules for me. How it was so amazing when Rhodes did and wanted to, until it actually happened. I don't give Elias specifics, but I do tell him we went too far but didn't have sex, and that's when I knew I'd done everything wrong and backward and horribly. Then Dad had his stroke and I needed to reevaluate everything I'd been thinking because I was doing it all wrong, and when I was with Elias, I was doing it all right because I was in the right place.

I'm not only crying, but I'm crying so hard I'm snotty and probably gross, and Elias does the most perfect, most amazing thing.

He raises his arm for me to snuggle in, and I practically leap across the couch to nestle my head on his chest.

“I didn't want to hurt you, Elias. I didn't. I wasn't ready to wear your ring, that's all. I'm not ready for forever. Columbia is … I want it so bad I dream about it at night, and trying to split my head and heart between what I need for myself and you … It wasn't fair to you or me. I'm sorry I broke things off in such an awful way. I could have said this in the beginning. I just didn't know how. Or I was afraid, or …”

He rubs his hand up and down my arm a few times as I get my breathing under control.

All I want to do is tell him I'm sorry over and over and over and over, but I pull away a little. “I can't take back what I did with Rhodes and how I handled things with you, and I hate that I can't.”

He blinks a few times and a tear falls down his cheek.

I did this.

I wipe it away, and we sit in silence long enough that I'm not crying anymore and long enough that I sort of know Elias and I have broken down the awful barrier of not talking to each other, and maybe more than that.

He nods and then pats his chest again so I go back to resting my head on him.

I don't know what we are now, but it doesn't matter. I take my first long breath in two days.

38

“You gonna get that?” A voice jolts me from sleep.

“Huh?” I blink a few times when I realize I'm still on the couch.

“Your phone.” Elias grins as he hands it to me. “It's been dinging every five to ten minutes for over an hour.”

“Oh.” I sit up and a blanket falls off my shoulder and onto my lap. “What time is it? Did you stay? How long was I out?”

“Shhh.” Elias chuckles. “You crashed last night. I stayed. I slept on the love seat. Suki called to say your dad is doing fantastic and will be coming home within the next few days, and Lachelle's name keeps coming up on your phone's screen. I'd love to stay, but I gotta get to work.”

“Lachelle?” I wake up my phone.

Elias gives my shoulder a squeeze before walking around the sofa and toward the front door. “Suki will be back to bring you to your dad shortly. Okay?”

“Yeah.” I'm staring at the text on my phone, but the words aren't making sense. When I hear the front door open, I realize Elias is leaving. “Thank you!”

“Yep,” he answers before the door closes behind him.

Summer writing workshop got two last-minute dropouts. I called you the
second
I found out. I know you missed enrollment for fall, but so many people go straight from the workshop into classes. Maybe you could take back your deferment letter if you were here to talk to them in person? I have room in my place. Remember how close to campus I am? Please come. Please.

My fingers start to shake so badly that I can barely hold my phone. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. I'm not … attached, I don't think, but there's no way I could leave Dad or …

“Clara?” Suki calls as the front door pushes open. “You here?”

“Yeah …” I squeak before clearing my throat. “Yeah. Here.”

“Would you like to go see your dad? He'll probably be home tomorrow or the next day. We'll have a nurse here, but he'll be glad to be out. Wheelchair for a while until the swelling goes down, but nothing we can't handle, right?”

The words print across my brain but don't stick.

“Your neighbors are taking care of the horses, so we don't have to go deal with them.” Another pause. “You coming?”

I push off the blanket and stumble toward the front door. I'll worry about hair and breakfast later. I'm too … What do I even tell Lachelle? What do I
want?

I could just go for the summer. That would be fine. I mean, doable maybe if it weren't for Dad. I can't leave him right now. Not like this.

“You got a lot of waking up to do,” Suki teases as I step through the door, still staring at Lachelle's text.

“Hmm.”

“Your dad and I have a few things we want to run by you, and we've got a drive ahead of us, so scoot in and let's get moving.”

My legs are heavy and feel weird as I make my way to her car. I type Lachelle a text once I'm buckled.

Not sure what to think yet.

She replies immediately.
No thought necessary. Come.

What she doesn't realize is that it's never this easy. I push my hair back and lean my head on the headrest.