Chapter Twenty
The sound of Coop clearing his throat broke Daniel’s trance, bringing him back to life. He’d frozen when he’d found himself unexpectedly face to face with Elena. Her brown eyes gazed up at him, full of hope and something that looked like longing. Fuck. He’d have a hard time resisting her like this.
Coop cleared his throat again, nudging Daniel in the arm. “Well, I’ve got that thing. So, uh, I’m gonna go. Catch you later.”
Elena glanced at Coop, watching him walk away, her throat working as she swallowed. When she met Daniel’s eyes again, some of the hope had dimmed, the look that he recognized as the one she put on when she was experiencing a strong emotion coming over her face. It had been two months since he’d seen her last, and he still recognized the nuances of her expressions. I’m so fucked.
Her eyes darted away, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, can we talk?” She looked up at him, her eyes moving over his face, then dropping to his neck. Sucking in a breath, she wrapped her arms around herself. It was cold outside, only the second week of January, but he didn’t think that’s why she did that.
When he didn’t say anything, she looked around again. “Well, okay. I guess that’s a no. I just … I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. And maybe buy you a coffee. But I get it if you don’t want to talk to me.” She opened her mouth again, closed it, and shook her head, her gaze dropping to her shoes. “I don’t blame you. So, I’ll just … I’ll go. And I won’t bother you anymore.”
She turned, about to head off in another direction, and her mask broke, letting him catch a glimpse of her face crumpling before she could hide it. That was enough to break through the barrier he’d been trying to keep between them. He reached out and caught her arm. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Yeah. Okay. A coffee sounds good.”
Nodding, she turned and headed toward the student center, and he fell in step beside her. They picked their way across campus, avoiding the worst of the ice spots on the sidewalks, walking single file a couple of times as they passed other students going the opposite direction.
Neither of them spoke as they walked. Elena insisted on paying for his coffee when they got to the coffee shop, and he claimed a table in the corner after he ordered, not willing to argue with her. He kept his eyes on her as they sipped their coffee, waiting for her to speak. She looked all around, her eyes settling on him then moving away. He wasn’t used to seeing her so nervous. Part of him wanted to do something, say something, to put her at ease. This awkward tension made him uncomfortable too, especially since things had always been easy between them. Not this stilted weirdness where she wouldn’t do more than glance at him.
But he fought that urge. She wasn’t his. She hadn’t wanted him. She’d used him. And even if she was here to apologize, he needed to remember that, needed to stay strong so he didn’t give in to her again. Because he still missed her. And even though she’d used him to distract herself from her problems, he still thought that she cared about him, the thing she’d said about not wanting to watch the people she loved getting their heads bashed in popping up and echoing in his mind whenever he tried to hold on to his anger with her.
Her gaze finally settled on her hands spinning the cardboard sleeve around and around on her coffee cup. She took a deep breath and let it out, her eyes coming up to his. “I’m in therapy,” she blurted out, but didn’t continue.
He waited, then nodded, trying to be encouraging. “Good. That seems good. Is it helping?”
She nodded, letting her gaze fall away from his again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. It is. I’m, well, I feel better, stronger. Like I can handle things better.”
“Good.” All he could do was keep repeating that word. He tried to come up with something else, but didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah.” That came out softer, and she lifted her eyes to his again. “It’s been really good. My therapist has helped me realize some things and let go of a lot of the guilt I’ve been holding onto about things with my family. She’s helped me accept the situation for what it is a lot more.” She bit her lip, but pressed on. “I skipped going home for Thanksgiving so I could have some time to come to terms with everything on my own. But I went for Christmas, and it was …” She tilted her head to the side. “Not great. But better than I expected. And it was nice to know that it was okay for me to do things to take care of myself without feeling guilty or like I was a bad person.”
She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to her coffee cup again. The next thing she said came out much softer, barely above a whisper. “And she helped me realize how terrible I was to you.” She paused, meeting his eyes and pressing her lips together, a shine of tears gathering along her eyelids. Something clenched in Daniel’s gut, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she blinked the tears away, shaking her head. “I was really terrible to you. And I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”
He swallowed, unsure how to respond to her apology, to the earnest look in her eyes, to the fact that she was fighting back tears while telling him how sorry she was. The part of him that had fallen deeply under her spell six months ago wanted to tell her everything was okay, that he forgave her, that they could be together. But the boy inside him that was too accustomed to being a pawn his father used to get back at his mom still rebelled against the way she’d used him as well.
“You used me.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“After I told you about my parents, my dad, how he used my brother and me to control our mom after their divorce. You knew all that, and you still used me.”
A tear slipped down her cheek as she nodded, drawing in a shuddery breath. “Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t—“ She shook her head, cutting herself off. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”
The old anger and bitterness rose up inside him, choking out the sympathy he’d normally feel for her distress. “You didn’t what? You didn’t think I’d care? Or you didn’t think I’d find out?”
Her hand reached toward him like she wanted to touch him, but she stopped short, withdrawing back to her side of the table. “No, that’s not what I was going to say. I didn’t realize what I was doing at the time. I wasn’t trying to be a selfish bitch, I swear. I didn’t make the connection until you said it that night.” She stopped and swallowed hard. “Even then, I thought you were mad at me more for breaking up with you.”
“Which was a shitty thing to do, too.” He was pissed at her for breaking up with him like that. That was another point to remember, to steel him against her tears.
She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry for that, too. But I realized that wasn’t the only hurtful thing I’d done to you. So I was starting from the beginning. But I’m sorry for all of it. For using you, for treating you like you didn’t have feelings, for breaking up with you when you were hurt, for not being honest with you about my own feelings. All of it. I’m sorry for everything.”
“Why did you do it?” He didn’t know why he asked that, why he kept her talking. The more she talked, the more he softened and came closer to forgiving her. He was at war with himself, trying to hang on to his anger and hurt, but also wanting to forgive her and try again.
Would she even want to try again? Or was she just wanting to apologize so she could move on? But why would she feel it necessary to apologize if that was all she wanted? Had she cared about him after all? He’d been telling himself for the last two months that she hadn’t really cared, despite what she’d said the night of his concussion. That she’d been upset more because of her own history with TBIs than because of any deep connection they’d shared. But he could never quite believe it. The logic didn’t hold up.
She fiddled with the sleeve on her cup again. “Well, at first, it was because you seemed safe. We already had a connection, and you were so sweet, wanting to let me talk, and you didn’t give me the same pitying looks I’d been getting from everyone else for months.” She shook her head. “You made me feel good. When I was with you, I could forget about everything else, pretend that everything hadn’t fallen apart. And I craved that feeling more than anything.” Another deep, shuddery breath. “But that wasn’t a healthy way to deal with it. I was avoiding, not dealing, pushing it away. And I used you to do it, which wasn’t fair to you, and wasn’t good for me.”
Her hand extended again, but she clenched her fingers into a fist, leaving her hand in the middle of the table but not letting herself actually try to touch him. “But I did—I do—like you. I care about you. I want good things for you.” She took a deep breath, biting her lip before pressing on. “I really want you not to hate me. And I—“ She stopped, shaking her head again, pulling her hand back to her lap.
“What?”
She shook her head again. “No. It’s too much.” She took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Thanks for letting me talk. I’ll leave you alone now.”
Standing, she gathered her things, but he caught her arm again, needing to know what she’d stopped herself from saying. “No. Tell me. What were you going to say?”
She stilled, her head down, her hand gripping the strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles were white. “I … I’d really like to see you again. At least be friends if you don’t want to try to be more.”
He dropped her arm, sitting back in his chair, uncertain how to respond.
Meeting his eyes, she gave him a sad smile. “See. That’s why I stopped myself. I’m asking too much, being selfish again. You deserve better. Thanks again for having coffee with me. I’ll—“ She looked away and swallowed before looking back at him. “I hope I’ll see you around.”
He watched her walk out of the coffee shop, her back straight, never looking back at him. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but his coffee was lukewarm when he picked it up again. Throwing it away, he stood, putting his coat back on, still feeling dazed from his conversation with Elena. She wanted to be friends with him. More, if he’d be okay with that. She’d cared about him all along, but been too wrapped up in her own pain to see how destructive her behavior had been.
Could he forgive her for that? And could he forgive himself for allowing it?
Coop found him sitting in their apartment in the dark. Daniel had gone home after his impromptu coffee with Elena, skipping the rest of his classes. It was only the second week of the semester, but he was so messed up in the head from her apology and the following revelations that he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. So he’d come home and sat on the couch. He’d continued to sit there, staring into space, wrestling with what he wanted and what he thought he should do until the light faded and Coop came home.
“Dude. What are you doing?” Coop dropped his backpack on the floor, flopping on the couch next to Daniel.
Daniel shook his head. “Thinking.”
“Do you need darkness for that? Or can I turn on a light?”
Daniel grunted. “No, I don’t need darkness. It was light when I sat down. I just haven’t gotten up to turn on a light.”
Getting back up, Coop found the switch on the wall, and Daniel held up a hand, blinking against the sudden brightness. Coop stared at him, arms crossed, a frown pulling at his mouth. “You been sitting here all afternoon in your coat? What the fuck, man?”
Daniel ran a hand over his face. “I talked to Elena.”
One of Coop’s eyebrows quirked up. “And? How’d that go?”
“Fuck, man.” Daniel shook his head and rubbed his face again. “She apologized. For everything.”
He glanced up to see Coop nodding like he wasn’t surprised. “Yeah. She wanted to do that back before Thanksgiving. But you wouldn’t talk to her. I’m a little surprised you actually talked to her today. Did you make her stand there in the cold on the sidewalk before you stormed off to come sit in the dark?”
Daniel’s mouth twisted, half smile and half frown at his friend’s assessment of his likely reaction. “Fuck you, man. No, for your information, we had coffee together. I let her talk and say all that she had to say.” He dropped his head back on the couch. “She’s been going to therapy. Said it’s helping.”
“Good. That’s good.”
This time Daniel smiled, just a quick flex of his lips. “That’s what I said.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“She said she wants to be friends. More, if I’m willing to go there again.”
Coop waited, but when Daniel didn’t say anything else, he hit Daniel’s foot where it was crossed over his knee. “And? What did you tell her?”
Raising his head, Daniel looked at Coop. “I didn’t really say anything. And then she said goodbye and left.”
“Dude. You’re an asshole.”
“Fuck you, Coop.” Daniel tried to sound angry, but it came out more tired. He rested his head against the back of the couch again, staring at the ceiling. He was an asshole.
Coop knocked his foot off his knee. “No. Fuck you. You’ve been in love with that girl for months, and now she’s finally in a place to give you what you’ve been wanting, and you let her walk away? You’re an asshole. If you’re too chickenshit to try again with her, then at least have the balls to tell her no when she lays it all out like that. Don’t just stare at her until she draws her own conclusions and leaves. That’s a dick move, dude. I thought you were better than that.”
“I guess you thought wrong.”
With a disgusted noise, Coop went into his bedroom. The walls were thin, and Daniel could hear him moving around and muttering to himself, but couldn’t make out any words.
Just as well. He didn’t want more of Coop’s opinion right now.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Elena’s name. He’d never deleted her number, even though he’d tried. If he could never bring himself to completely cut her out of his life, wasn’t that a sign that maybe he should give her another chance?
His thumb hovered over the screen, and he looked at the picture he’d saved with her contact info. He’d taken it on the beach in Westport, her hair blowing in the wind, her head thrown back as she laughed at something he’d said. God, he missed her. It was an ache deep in his chest that he carried with him all the time, and it hit him like a punch in the gut when he let himself look at the few pictures he had of her or when he relived their time together.
And now he could get rid of that ache. Coop was right. He was being a chickenshit asshole.
Pocketing his phone, he stood and grabbed his keys. “I gotta go, Coop. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Later.”