Into The Clear Water

by Celeste, B.

  We all slept in the living room.

  Bladder screaming at me to empty it, I try figuring out how to get up without waking Ainsley. It’s barely light out which tells me we have time before she needs to be up, so I shift ever so slightly and practically yelp when a voice cuts through the silence. “Need help?”

  Biting my lip to keep quiet, I let my tired eyes drift back to my roommate. He’s scrubbing at his hooded lids as he yawns and tips his head toward Ainsley. I just nod, watching him get up and roll his neck before walking over and carefully picking her up. He cradles her against his chest while I slide off the couch, then slowly lowers her back down and pulls a blanket up to cover her.

  And I watch them with something filling my chest that I can’t decipher. Not wanting to analyze it, I escape to the bathroom to relieve myself and quickly wash my hands, run a brush through my hair, and head back downstairs to see Ainsley still sleeping soundly where Easton left her.

  I listen to him make noise in the kitchen. When I walk in, he gestures toward the coffee pot which he already turned on. “Should be done in a few. Want me to cook breakfast?”

  I look at him and I think, thank you.

  It’s my first thought, but many more accompany it. Ones I don’t let myself ponder on as I grab a mug from the cupboard and set it on the counter. “Only if you’re having some. I know you probably want to run this morning.”

  His palm reaches behind his neck and kneads at the skin. “Nah, I think I’ll take it easy today. Slept wrong and think I pulled something.”

  “Here.” I walk behind him and reach up, taking over his hand and feeling the knots in his neck and shoulders. Working them out, he rolls his head forward and groans as I dig my thumbs into one of the tougher areas.

  “Fuck. That feels good.”

  “You were twisted when I woke up,” I note quietly, trying to get the knot to loosen. “It doesn’t surprise me you’re sore.”

  He doesn’t reply, just absorbs the message I’m giving him. I don’t really think about how I shouldn’t be touching him even if it’s innocent. A friend helping a friend. Two roommates. But then he turns and looks down at me, my hands drift to work the tops of his shoulders as he watches me with dark eyes.

  I let out a quiet breath as he watches me with the same intensity that weakens my knees. My heart reacts in one way, with fullness, and my body with another. He doesn’t make a move. There’s no kiss or touch or words that make this more than just me massaging his shoulders.

  But the look…

  He’s the first one to step back, nostrils flaring slightly. “What kind of eggs do you want? I think we still have stuff to make omelets.”

  It takes me a moment to find my words, my body still searing from whatever just passed between us. “Scrambled is fine for both Ainsley and me. I can pop the toast in.”

  “Bacon?”

  “We’re out.”

  “Want me to get some today?”

  I pause, faltering on the twist tie that keeps the bread bag closed. Shaking myself out of it, I muster a smile. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  We get busy with breakfast. Me with the toast, him with the eggs. When the coffee is done, I fill the cup and wrap my greedy hands around the mug and breathe in the strong scent that helps wake me up a little faster. Drinking half of it before I decide to wake Ainsley, I set three plates down on the island and place silverware next to them as he finishes off the eggs.

  When Ainsley is up and sitting beside me in front of the plate that Easton makes quick to cover with food, I observe the scene with a new kind of interest. Everything about it is domesticated. Normal. After breakfast is in front of us all, I wait until Ainsley and him start eating before I let my gaze wander over both of them.

  Ainsley doesn’t notice at all.

  But Easton does.

  And the look he gives me…

  I quickly glance down, too unsure and unconfident to keep the stare. I focus on my food, on Ainsley, on my headache being gone.

  Anything but Easton.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  For the first time in years, March leaves winter in the rearview and offers us fifty-degree weather for the first two weeks. No snow, just sunshine. It leaves me breathing a little easier when I drive Ainsley to school and me to campus. There’s no internal pep-talk before I get behind the wheel or anymore panic attacks when ice coats the roads.

  The flowers in the front lawn planted around the dogwood tree begin to bloom, mixing with the pretty white blossoms on the branches above them. It brings color to the yard that’s otherwise a murky green and brown from the melted snow and mud. But I don’t complain, not even when Ainsley chooses to go outside in her good clothes and rainboots to jump around until she’s dirty from head to toe.

  She smiles. Like me, she loves the nicer weather. I don’t know if it’s because she can go outside and play easier, or because the spring reminds her of her father. Danny loved springtime the best. He and Willow would always comment on how everything comes to life after months of a dark depression that seems void.

  Clicking my tongue as I help Ainsley finish drying off from her much-needed bath, I run a brush through her damp hair and note how long it’s gotten. When she meets my eyes in the mirror in front of us, I realize even more how much she looks like Danny. There are bits of her mother mixed into her soft features, but my late best friend is who stares back at me.

  Emotion clogging my throat, I clear it and kiss her cheek once her hair is smoothed out. “I left clothes on the counter for you. Get changed, okay? We’ll go downstairs and make dinner.”

  She hurries and meets me outside the room, holding my hand all the way downstairs. I wonder what’s going through her mind today. Ever since we got home from the Rec Center after our class, she’s latched onto me. I don’t mind it one bit—seeing her play outside and smile with bright eyes in the sunlight makes me happier than I’ve been in a while. But I also know that she shares more than just her father’s looks. Like him, she prefers being on her own unless there’s something on her mind.

  When I start a pot of boiling water, I turn to face her, signing, Is everything okay?

  She stares at my hands for a moment, her bottom lip drawing into her mouth. A sure sign something’s up. But she eventually nods like all is well.

  You can talk to me, Ainsley.

  Her eyes go to the floor.

  I kneel, tapping her chin until she meets my eyes with those beautiful brown ones I love so much. Instead of signing, I just hold her hand and smile. Her hands twitch like she’s itching to sign, but they remain at her sides.

  I say, “I love you, Nugget. Whatever is on your mind you can tell me if you want. I won’t force you either way. Just know I’m here.” Pecking her forehead, I stand up and turn back to the water on the stove that’s just beginning to bubble on the bottom.

  A small hand wraps around mine and tugs, causing my attention to look downward at the trembling lip on Ainsley’s face. She signs three words that assault my heart.

  I miss Daddy.

  My arms are instantly around her, hers clinging to my neck. I pick her up until her legs wrap around my waist. Flicking off the burner on the stovetop, I walk us into the living room the same time the front door opens. Easton enters with paper grocery bags nestled into his arms and looks between us with concern etched into his face as he kicks the door closed.

  I just shake my head at him.

  He presses his lips together and nods once, disappearing into the kitchen. I sit on the couch with Ainsley hugging the life out of me, and I absorb the pain and hurt in any way I can. I pepper kisses on her forehead, brush my fingers through her hair, and let her cry.

  Sometimes we need that, to be held while our feelings show. For a long time after the accident I let the tears aid me to sleep at night while I thought about Danny, about the past, about how unfair life is. I used to think I was weak for letting myself feel too much, crying into my pillow to soak up the desperate sounds until my b
ody forced itself to shut down. Listening to Ainsley, this beautiful little girl, I realize it’s not weakness at all. We just chose to be strong for too long until our hearts needed a break.

  “I miss him too, baby girl.” My words are breathed into the top of her head, the smell of her lavender shampoo wafting around me. “Your father was such a wonderful man, and the best dad to you. He loved you so, so much. So did your mother.” She tightens her hold, burying her face into my now-damp shirt. “You know, I remember the day your daddy told me they were expecting you. The light in his eyes was one I’d never seen before. He loved you from the second he knew about you, and I…”

  That day, I’d felt something deep inside of me that I was ashamed of. I felt anger. I felt envy. I felt a mix of horrible things that faded with time as I watched them prepare for Ainsley. Every update he told me, every image he showed me, the nursery they’d built from scratch. The love he had for his daughter and wife couldn’t be beat, and I’d known it. It’d chipped at those ill feelings and turned them into different ones, lighter ones. While I still held onto jealousy that ate at my conscience, it was only because I couldn’t feel the same thing that I’d witnessed them experience.

  Love. Unconditional, honest love.

  “I just miss him so much too,” I finish in a whisper that breaks. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to stop a tear from sliding out. Once I’ve collected myself, I take a deep breath and open my eyes. From the corner of my gaze, I see Easton leaning against the archway staring at us.

  He heard the entire thing.

  He sees my heartbreak.

  What else does he see?

  When he realizes I’ve caught him looking, he pushes himself off the wall. “Want me to make dinner?”

  I glance at Ainsley, then back at him. “I started to boil water. I was going to make some sort of pasta.”

  “Spaghetti?”

  “Sure.”

  “I have stuff to make mac and cheese.”

  That gets Ainsley’s attention. She peels herself away from me, eyes red and cheeks flushed, and blinks between me and Easton.

  I manage to smile. “I think macaroni and cheese is exactly what we need tonight. Do you need any help?”

  He shakes his head and hesitates like he wants to say something. His eyes go to Ainsley, his brows furrowing in the slightest way, but then he nods to himself and heads back into the kitchen.

  I listen to him moving around, clattering pans, and opening the refrigerator, all while Ainsley settles back into me. I tell her about Danny and her mom, how they met and fell in love in the same day. Danny was shy, Willow was not. The couple was one anybody would envy when they went out and showed how genuine their kind of love was.

  And it makes me feel like scum, but I’ve long since accepted that I’m human—a human with feelings. Feelings that went unrequited for as long as I could remember.

  But the bitterness that was there before no longer resonates. It doesn’t burn me or choke me at night when I sleep. There are no haunting thoughts that plague my conscience when my mind stops being distracted by everyday tasks.

  I blow out a deep breath.

  God, I’d always love Daniel McCray. But for once, I don’t think I’m in love with him. The thought alone lifts a one-ton weight off my chest and allows me to breathe easier.

  I snuggle into Ainsley until sometime later when Easton hand delivers us bowls with our steaming dinner filling them.

  When I smile at him, he stares at me with curious eyes. I’m telling him thank you in silence, but my mind clings to something else. Something deeper.

  Maybe I’m thanking him for more.

  That night there’s a knock at my bedroom door. It’s a foreign sound at this point, but I quietly tell the person responsible to come in knowing who it is.

  When East enters, one hand is shoved in the pocket of his jeans, and the other is holding onto the edge of the door. “Mind if I come in?”

  The soft words aren’t lost on me as he stays near the door like I’ll tell him no. “Sure.”

  He steps further inside and quietly closes the door behind him, lingering near it. “I come as a friend.”

  My bedside lamp is on because I’m doing last minute homework, so I can see the genuine half-smile he shoots me. “Is that what we are?”

  One of his shoulders lifts. “I think so.”

  “Good.” I smile. “What’s up?”

  He clears his throat, waiting for a moment before answering. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, from earlier. I could see it in your eyes when you told Ainsley about her dad. You were upset.”

  I blink at him, quickly looking down at the papers scattered in front of my crossed legs. I wasn’t expecting him to notice, much less ask me that. But am I really surprised? “He was my best friend and I’ve always felt his loss in such a deep way that I refused to think about it for too long. I never talked about him much if I could help it.”

  “You loved him.” It’s not a question.

  “In some ways.” I pick up a paper and stare absently at it. “There are so many forms of love and I only ever focused on the one I thought mattered most. I never thought about what other kinds he offered me. I didn’t think they were enough.”

  “And now?”

  Now it doesn’t matter. “Now…” Clicking my tongue, I drop the paper and look at him. “I realized very recently that I don’t want to hold onto what I thought I felt then. It hurts too much.”

  He studies me but doesn’t speak.

  “Having you in my life has been unexpectedly great,” I admit sheepishly. “I don’t mean that as a come on or anything. For me, I didn’t really let anyone in because I didn’t want many people to know how messed up my head was for pining over a man who clearly didn’t want me. But I’m learning to let that shame go.”

  His eyes don’t wander from me as I deliver that quiet statement. I feel his gaze on my skin, burning, tingling. I’m hyperaware that he’s giving me his full attention and I’m not used to it. With him or anyone. “Can I ask you something?”

  I shrug. “Go for it.”

  “You mentioned a guy from your past that you and … Danny grew up with. Is that the same one you went out to dinner with?”

  Lips parted, I stare at him with wrinkled brows. Easton has always been intuitive. In many ways, he’s the fly the on the wall who observes everything and silently puts the pieces together. In fact, I forgot I even mentioned Carter before the dinner fiasco that put a wedge between East and me. “Uh … yeah. It is.”

  His face twists for a microsecond. If I blinked, I would have missed it. He gives me a terse nod and that’s it.

  “What?”

  He shakes his head.

  “East?” I unfold my legs and swing them over the side of the bed. “Come on, tell me. I can tell you’re thinking something. Friends share.”

  His eyes heat, darkening as if he takes that in an entirely different way. “Oh, trust me. I know that well now.”

  My face turns red. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it,” I grumble. Shaking it off, I give him a pleading look. “Please?”

  Sighing, he scrubs a hand down his face and clasps it around his neck. “Just be careful. I think it’s good you have somebody to talk to about the shit you went through, but sometimes we latch onto the wrong things.”

  The wrong…? “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” He reaches for the door. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “Carter would never hurt me,” I tell him confidently.

  His jaw ticks. “Okay.”

  When he leaves after saying goodnight, I wonder what the look on his face was. It was distant but not cold. It’s like he knew something I didn’t. Worried about something I hadn’t thought of. It makes me wonder if he was talking about Carter or something else.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Agreeing to willingly go out with Carter seemed like a good idea until he pulled into my driveway. With my
parents watching Ainsley and Easton at work, it left me in an empty house overthinking about every little detail. Jenna was working overtime at the boutique, and I didn’t want to bother her with my unnecessary freak-out when I realized what I’d gotten myself into.

  The clamminess of my hands never eases as he drives us to a diner he chose thirty minutes away. It’s a decent drive. The windows are down because of the warmer weather and bright sun gracing the blue sky, and the early 2000s rock music plays on low to fill his vehicle when our conversation lulls.

  And it lulls because of me.

  “You look lost in thought,” he says quietly, glancing at me for a moment before returning his eyes to the road.

  When he asked me again a few days ago if I wanted to have an early dinner with him at his favorite place, I’d contemplated saying no. But the way his warm eyes watched me made something in my chest shift. I couldn’t find an excuse not to. Ainsley was already being watched by my parents because they decided they wanted to take her to a movie and give me time to myself. I’d planned on doing homework and cooking the kind of food I know she hates because she’s not there to complain.

  “I’m just thinking about school.” The lie slips off my tongue as I stare out the window. “I don’t have that much longer to go.”

  He doesn’t call me out on it if he expects as much. “Are you excited?”

  I go to answer but stop myself. Am I? I’ve always enjoyed school. I like the routine, the schedule to abide by. It makes having to make decisions easier. “Sort of,” I settle with. “I think I’m going to enjoy not having to stay up late to get homework done, but everything that comes after graduating? It scares me.”

  “It’s scary,” he agrees. “But I have no doubt in my mind you’ll be just fine. Look how well you’re doing right now.”