I PLOPPED DOWN IN the chair, out of breath and in pain. My lower back was aching and it seemed I couldn’t do a single thing—not even walk from my car to a building—without getting short-winded. The unforgiving June sun didn’t help any. Arizona summers were the bane of my existence, but this one was even more miserable. My boobs were nothing to brag about, but with the pregnancy they’d gotten bigger, and the boob sweat was unreal.
“Rough morning?” I heard the smirk in Joy’s voice.
“I don’t know why this baby hates me already,” I grumbled. My pain was not made any better by the cheap, fold-up metal chair I was sitting on.
Joy chuckled and patted my knee. “Stand up.”
I didn’t question her as I slowly stood. I wasn’t sure how I’d make it through a whole meeting if I was already squirming in my seat.
“Sit back down.”
Before I did I looked back and saw a cushion, starting at the back of the chair and ending at the lip of the seat. I smiled gratefully and lowered myself. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” She waved it away and dug around in her purse. After she found her bag of snack food, she swiveled my way. “So we have a couple minutes until the meeting starts. Tell me how you are.”
“I’m okay,” I said quietly, gazing around at the other people in the room. Thankfully they were otherwise occupied. When she just raised her eyebrows, I admitted, “Things feel weird at home.”
She frowned. “Why’s that?”
“I love my brother. You know I do. But lately he’s driving me crazy. I can see it in his eyes. Sometimes he doesn’t look at me like a sister. He looks at me like a responsibility.”
Joy took one of my hands in hers. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Ellie. It means he cares.”
“I know.” I lowered my voice, sadness seeping in. “He doesn’t think I can do this. How is that supposed to make me feel? And he thinks Grayson is too good for me.” My lips immediately snapped shut.
There was a hint of amusement in Joy’s eyes as she smirked. “Okay, so this is about Grayson.”
“Nooooo…”
Except it was.
Things had been strained between Damien and me lately, ever since he found out Grayson and I were talking.
I was almost seven months along now, and Grayson and I had been spending some time together. Although our friendship was still in its infancy and we didn’t know a ton about one another, I was sure he was someone I could depend on.
Of course I knew he was out of my league. That didn’t mean my brother had to agree with me.
“You can admit you like him. Nothing bad will happen,” Joy teased.
She couldn’t possibly know that. Besides, I had a baby on the way. I shouldn’t be thinking about anything other than my child. My hands were sweaty, so I brushed them against the front of my skirt.
“You’re allowed to have other thoughts. Non-baby-related thoughts,” she added like she’d known what was going on in my head. Although I guess that was what a good friend was: a mind reader.
I couldn’t have this conversation right now. My eyes roamed the cafeteria, looking for the one person who would take Joy’s mind off me.
“Where’s Carter?” I asked. I didn’t know his last name or anything about him other than what related to his alcoholism. But I always connected with him. We didn’t talk much, but every time one of us spoke about our experiences, our eyes met, a silent acknowledgement of understanding.
Addiction entered people’s lives in a variety of ways—no two stories were the same. But ours felt like they came from the same genre. Both from wealthy families. Both isolated. Our dependence on alcohol was more about the company we kept than the actual alcohol. And after a while those two things blurred, and the feeling of being complete only came when we had a bottle in our hands. I was slowly starting to see there were other ways.
The other thing I knew about Carter? Joy was hopelessly in like with the guy. We didn’t talk about it though.
I followed Joy’s stare. It was as though she’d already known exactly where he was. Lifting my hand, I waved at him.
“Shit. He’s coming over,” Joy muttered.
I cringed. I wasn’t trying to make this more difficult for her.
Carter left his corner and the closer he got, the more I felt Joy tense. He was shy and a bit awkward, always telling cheesy jokes and obvious puns. I didn’t think there was a sweeter person alive.
“Hi, Ellie,” he said as he stopped in front of us. Carter stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“Hey. How are you?”
“I’m all right.”
We chatted for a few more minutes. Joy was noticeably silent and his question-filled eyes flew to hers a few times, before we were asked to take our seats. After a few members spoke, including Joy, it was my turn.
“Hello,” I began, my throat raw with nerves. “My name is Ellie Harrington, and I’m an alcoholic.” I may have done this several times already, but it never got easier. There were always new people dropping in, and I always felt the familiar burn of failure when I got up and confessed my weakness.
I remembered the first meeting I went to like it was yesterday. I had practiced my introduction in the bathroom, and a laugh had bubbled up at how ridiculous it sounded. With no idea what to expect, I was incredibly nervous. Alcoholics and stress did not mix well. And it wasn’t that oil-and-vinegar crap where they simply couldn’t go together. No, they mixed, very readily. It was just, when they did, the result was often explosive. Like mixing TNT with… well, whatever bomb makers mix TNT with to make it go boom.
Clearly, I wasn’t a science nerd.
So it was pretty ironic that sometimes my biggest source of anxiety was my AA meetings.
Thankfully my introduction was over quick. There was no set time limit, and I always made sure mine was fast.
Joy grabbed my hand when I finished and squeezed. I glanced at Carter. He was wearing a soft, contemplative expression as he watched Joy’s simple attempt to comfort me.
I was pretty sure he reciprocated her feelings. So I couldn’t understand why neither of them was doing anything about it. Didn’t two people who felt the way they did have an obligation to do something?
After the meeting ended and we were on our way out, Carter already gone, I stopped her. Without preamble, I asked, “Why haven’t you told Carter you have feelings for him?”
Joy froze. She didn’t deny it or try to play it down. Letting out a sigh, she extended her arm toward the empty room. “Because look where we met. We reveal the worst of ourselves in there. To complete strangers. It’s easier knowing we’ll never see them outside of this. To know our secrets are safe within these four walls. But out there?” I followed her pointed finger to the parking lot. “Anything can happen. We’re different people in there. I might not like him in the real world.”
I knew what she meant. The secrets we shared could be brutal. Joy was one of the members who shared more than anyone else, and her story wasn’t an easy one. Carter and I were similar—he barely gave details, and he usually finished faster than me.
“No one wants to feel vulnerable with a person who can’t give it back, Ellie.”
“What if he can though? Maybe he’d be different one-on-one?”
“And if he isn’t?” she asked. “A relationship can’t work unless both people are willing to share.”
“Then you wait him out. If you give people enough, won’t they eventually have to feel the same? To reciprocate?”
“No, Ellie,” Joy said softly. She was smiling, but it was small and sad. It made me feel like there was something I wasn’t understanding. “You can’t spend your life giving everything away in hopes that someday a person will give it back.” She placed her hand over my heart. “You have to keep some of that love and respect for yourself. It’s okay to think of yourself first. It’s not always out of selfishness, but out of survival. And it’s okay to love yourself without the validation of others.”
I frowned. Somehow she’d turned this conversation around on me. I couldn’t fully focus on her trickery, not with her words now floating in my head.
I thought about them on the walk to the car, and when I hugged her goodbye. I mulled them over on the drive home. I turned them around in my mind as I walked through the front door of our apartment, calling out a hello to Damien and Naomi, before heading toward my bedroom. And I tried to see them in different lights, to understand them in a way that made sense to me.
But as I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself, I wondered…
How can you come to love what you’ve always hated?
My eyes squeezed shut. I couldn’t afford to think this way anymore. I wanted my son to have someone to admire.
Loving myself was something I’d always struggled with, however pathetic that sounded, but I wanted to change. Kids were more perceptive than people gave them credit for.
What would his self-worth become if he saw me constantly tearing down my own?
Nothing was about just me anymore. Everything I did had to be done with my son in mind. And despite the odds and statistics stacked against me, I was determined to prove all of them wrong.
My hands twitched in my lap as I stared at my purse on the coffee table.
I was sitting on the couch, waiting for Grayson to pick me up for a doctor’s visit. Damien had claimed that both he and Naomi were busy, but when I offered to ask Joy and he told me that Grayson had already agreed to take me, I had a feeling it was my brother’s way of apologizing for how negative he’d been about my friendship with Grayson.
It meant a lot. But now that I was sitting here waiting for him, I was becoming increasingly nervous.
I considered Grayson and me friends, but like I said, we were new friends, and going to the doctor felt very personal.
You’ve already cried in front of him and word-vomited your insecurities on him…
Hmmm… point made.
The doorbell rang and I scrambled up, grabbing my bag before rushing toward the door. He was doing me a favor and I didn’t want to inconvenience him in any way.
“Hey.” I sounded out of breath as I threw open the door and quickly crossed the threshold. The key missed its mark as I tried to be quick in locking up.
Grayson chuckled behind me. “Where’s the fire?”
“I don’t want to keep you waiting,” I said, finally slipping the key in the lock and turning it. He was frowning when I glanced up at him. Before he could say anything, I moved toward the stairs.
“Wait.” I’d just wrapped my hand around the railing when he spoke. “Here. Hold on to me,” he said, offering me his arm.
I grinned. “I can still walk down the stairs.”
“And I can help you,” he responded easily, making my heart beat faster. I slipped my hand under his arm, trying not to shudder at the feel of his warm, smooth skin when my fingers wrapped around his bicep.
Jesus, did he do anything other than work out?
We carefully made our way down. I wanted to look over at him, but I kept my gaze on the steps in front of me. The hand he’d placed over mine stayed there when we reached the bottom, and all the way to his car. The silence as he opened the door and held my hand to help me in was surprisingly comfortable.
“Thank you,” I said when he got in on his side.
“It’s not a problem, Ellie.”
“I’m sure you have better things to do.” I studied the way his jaw clenched at my words. Truthfully I didn’t know much about his life, but I undoubtedly wanted to know more. Did he have a girlfriend? Was his family close by?
“Nope,” he answered. I slumped in my seat and turned toward the window. With a sigh, he surprised me by continuing, “I mainly keep to myself.”
“Your family isn’t around?”
“They are. They live about ten minutes from me, but we’re not close. I only see them a few times a year.”
I frowned, wanting to ask him more, but fearing he might do the same. And besides Damien, my family was the last thing I wanted to talk about. “What about friends? Or a girlfriend?”
“I have you,” he said. I froze as his head quickly whipped my way. “I didn’t… that’s not what I meant…” Grayson cleared his throat. “You’re my friend, that’s what I was saying. You and Damien.”
We settled into silence after that. A huge smile spread across my face, and I had to face the window so he didn’t see me looking like a complete loon.
I was his first thought.
It was an amazing feeling, and I doubt he understood how much it meant to me.
“I consider you my friend, too. Just so you know…”
“Thanks, Ellie.” Grayson sounded oddly emotional when he responded, so I kept my gaze outside to give him privacy. But my thoughts wouldn’t be as easy to control.
He’s thinking of you…
“I don’t know if I can trust you anymore…” I whispered.
I was shocked. Horrified. Betrayed. Who was this person sitting next to me?
Grayson rolled his eyes, even as a small smile tugged at his lips.
“This is serious,” I insisted. “How can you not like superheroes?” I pointed to the TV screen where the first Avengers movie was playing.
“I thought you were so much cooler than this…” I trailed off. He full-on laughed this time and it felt like a victory. Grayson wasn’t the type to show emotion often, so when he did, and it was because of me, I felt like a superhero.
The conversation had started after I asked him what his superpower would be. He hadn’t answered, and I looked over to see him glaring at the TV. This eventually led to him telling me he didn’t like superheroes.
I’d never read a comic book and I didn’t subscribe to any fandoms. Actually, I was pretty sure diehard fans, the ones who had mint-condition comics still wrapped in the plastic and framed, would cringe at some of my inaccuracies since I only went by the films. And I didn’t pick a side in the whole Marvel versus DC argument. I liked Marvel more—hello, Captain America—but I didn’t scoff at the Batman franchise either. Truthfully, I didn’t understand why there had to be a competition.
Either way, Grayson seemed to hate all of them.
“I don’t get it,” I tried again.
“Why do you like them?” he countered.
I loved the idea of superheroes. Other worlds. Magic. Fantasy. Anything that took me away from my lonely life. Shrugging, I said, “I don’t know. I guess I like the idea of leaving reality, just temporarily. Life can get pretty exhausting.”
“Well I prefer to stay grounded in reality.”
“But you’d get a power! Who wouldn’t want a superpower?”
“I don’t,” he bit out, using a hard tone he’d never directed at me before.
Stop being ridiculous, Eleanor. You’re embarrassing yourself.
With a flinch, I unconsciously scooted away from Grayson. I was fleeing from something else, something I couldn’t actually escape, but he didn’t know that.
He quickly reached out and grabbed my hand. Only when I stopped moving and relaxed against the couch did he let go. Grayson’s eyes moved to mine, and the silence became unbearable.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I didn’t know why I was apologizing, but I hated the sudden tension between us.
“Don’t be.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. I thought that was the end of the conversation when he turned back to face the TV. But he wasn’t done.
“I’m not a superhero, Ellie. Not even close.”
My heart ached at the sadness in his voice. It was clear he wouldn’t open up to me about it today. That was okay—I’d wait. Grayson was good at hiding so many things, but I could sense his underlying pain. Maybe it was because I had so much of my own. There were so many things not even Damien knew. And as much as I loved my brother, I could never tell him—he wouldn’t understand.
There was something about Grayson that made me think he would, made me believe there was a greater purpose for why we were brought into each other’s lives.
I wasn’t a big fan of change. I never had been. I liked plans.
Since I was a police officer, most couldn’t understand it. My job wasn’t always smooth sailing. No day was the same. Some days were downright hectic depending on my assignment.
What they didn’t understand was that when I showed up to a call, for the most part, I knew what to expect. I knew who was hurting, who needed help, and who I was supposed to stop. There was always more going on in the background, for the victim and the perp. There were always things I wasn’t going to know. But that was the point. I didn’t have to. I didn’t need all the details. I just needed to save someone. After that, it was up to the detective to figure out the rest.
I’d wipe my hands clean of the incident and walk away, ready to save someone else.
Sometimes I failed. We got there too late or there was too much damage. Those days were hard.
For the most part, though, my life had been planned out. I’d go to work and I’d help people. Then I’d come home and read or work out.
I’d never tried to help someone outside of work like this in almost eight years. But I’d told Damien I would help him, and despite the troubling sense of déjà vu, I enjoyed spending time with Ellie.
It had been almost three months since I’d knocked on her front door, and while we had only seen each other a handful of times—either meeting somewhere for lunch or watching TV at her place—I was still as drawn to her as ever.
Our conversations before she asked about my friends and family had been relatively superficial, which made staying neutral a bit easier. I was still trying to stay detached. I couldn’t help her if I wasn’t objective. I wouldn’t be able to keep her safe if I truly became friends with her.
That was what I had to remind myself every time I hung out with her and every time I left her. It was too easy to get caught up in how right it felt to be around her.
It helped that Damien also seemed determined to keep my relationship with his sister casual. He wasn’t subtle about hiding his concern, though I truly didn’t understand why he thought our friendship was a bad thing. A few weeks ago he’d asked about the nature of our friendship. I’d said, “We don’t speak often. But if you would like me to stop talking to her, I will.”
I was pretty sure it was lip service speaking, because I didn’t think I could actually stop. Not for him, and certainly not for myself.
So when he responded by shaking his head and saying, “No, no. Don’t do that,” I was instantly relieved. I didn’t even care when he added on a completely unveiled—and unnecessary—threat that we remain only friends. I had no intention of having a romantic relationship with Ellie. Yes, she was gorgeous and funny and smart and about a million other things any guy would be lucky to have. It just wasn’t a possibility. She deserved more than I had to offer.
But that didn’t stop me from coming back, time after time… like right now. Because despite my worries, I simply couldn’t stay away.
Raising my fist, I knocked on her door, balancing a box of pizza on my other hand.
“Coming,” I heard her shout from the back of the apartment. A few seconds later the door opened and she stood there smiling. “Thank God, I’m starving.”
I laughed, walking into the kitchen and setting the box down before turning around. She was locking the door when my eyes wandered to the table in front of the TV. Squinting, I asked, “What’s that?” It looked like a black blob.
“Nothing,” she squeaked, quickly waddling forward to snatch it up and hide it behind her back. Ellie began shuffling toward the hallway, keeping her eyes on me.
Laughing, I intercepted her. “C’mon. Show me.”
“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head for emphasis.
“Why not? What is it?”
She mumbled something I couldn’t quite catch, her eyes now on the ground.
“What?”
With a sigh, Ellie lifted her face. “I said, it’s a toy.” She frowned. “Or it was supposed to be. I was trying to knit this black mouse I saw in one of Naomi’s books. Apparently I’m not quite at that level yet.”
I had to hold in my chuckle, she seemed so upset by it. But she hadn’t been knitting long and from what she’d told me, Naomi was pleased with what she’d done so far.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“It is.”
“Can I please see it?” I asked, throwing in a small smile for good measure. She wilted and threw her hand over her eyes, removing her other arm from behind her back and holding the toy out to me. I took it from her, slowly inspecting it.
It wasn’t something you’d call cute or pretty or beautiful, and it wasn’t necessarily well made. A few stitches were crooked and there were bumps in places there shouldn’t be. Yet I couldn’t call it ugly, which she was clearly waiting for.
“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.
Ellie lowered her hand, clearly waiting for me to say more. When I didn’t, she said, “Throw it out.”
I frowned and looked down at it for a second before lifting my eyes back to her hazel ones. “Can I keep it? I’d love to give this to one of my nephews.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock before she recovered. “You don’t have to pretend—”
“I’m not.” I held the toy up. “Will Martha Stewart nominate it as the best toy ever knitted? No.” Her lips twitched. “But, do I want it because I like it? Yes, absolutely.”
Despite my comment about not being a hero, I sure as hell felt like one when Ellie smiled at me like she was now.
“Okay. If you’re sure—”
“I am,” I cut her off. Wanting to boost her a little more, I asked, “Have you tried to make anything else?”
At that, her eyes lit up. She grabbed my hand—like it was nothing, like we touched all the time—and pulled me down the hall toward her room. Ellie let go and moved toward her closet, standing on her tiptoes to reach a box.
“Yes. I have a few scarves and even a hat…” She huffed as her fingers grazed the box, pushing it farther away from her. I walked forward and she froze when one of my hands fell to her waist.
“Let me get it,” I whispered, reaching my other arm over her shoulder and easily pulling the box out. Ellie was still until I shuffled back a couple steps; only then did her limbs unlock.
She turned around and I smiled when I noticed the rosy color fading from her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she dropped the box on the bed and removed the lid.
Her excitement grew with each item she removed, telling me a story about each one, like what mistakes she’d made and how she’d fixed them. I was smiling as she ran out of breath talking about the first hat she made.
When she caught me she blushed, dropping it and rubbing a spot on her elbow. “Sorry,” she murmured, looking chagrined.
My brows pulled down. “Why?”
Ellie shrugged, but I could hear what she wasn’t saying. She didn’t know how to show her excitement, so she brushed it aside.
I noticed she did things like that a lot. She’d get excited only to dismiss her emotions as “stupid” or “unimportant,” like someone told her the things she thought and felt were stupid and unimportant… like she was stupid and unimportant.
It broke my heart, and boiled my blood.
She also had a habit of zoning out for a bit; sometimes it was only a few seconds, something you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.
I’m always paying attention.
And when she came back around, she’d flinch, as if she were hearing something no one else heard. Like right now…
“Ellie?” I asked, my fingers grazing her elbow, breaking her out of her trance. She shook her head.
“Sorry,” she repeated.
“For what?” I challenged. She blinked up at me, her eyes wide and panicked. “What are you sorry for?” I repeated.
“Umm…”
“For staring off into space? For standing there? For turning oxygen into carbon dioxide?”
She laughed. “Only you could say it that way, like it was as normal as saying breathing.” Her smile faded as I waited. “When you say it out loud it just sounds ridiculous.”
“That’s because it is ridiculous.” I sounded angry, but it wasn’t directed at her. I was angry on her behalf. Because no one popped out of the womb and started apologizing for everything. It was learned.
“I’m working on it.” She smiled, and even though I knew it’d be a difficult feat, I believed her.
It was a little bit like her knitted “mouse.” It wasn’t perfect, it needed work, but the result didn’t always matter. To me, there was always something beautiful about people who simply tried.