Shelter

by Stephanie Fournet

  “Tried what? What can’t you do?” Be with me? Trust me?

  “Just take Ava h-home, we’ll talk t-tomorrow, okay?” she squeaked.

  Tomorrow? Oh, hell, no.

  “Elise. Open. The. Damn. Door.”

  If she made us wait until tomorrow, I knew — I knew in my gut — I’d lose her. And not for years, but for good. For the second time in my life, I stood in front of a locked door I’d do damn near anything to get through. Only this time, I knew without a doubt the person who needed saving was me.

  “She thinks it’s over between you.”

  At the sound of Ava’s voice, I spun around. She stood in the hall beside Flora, watching me with a deadened expression. Her eyes held no spark, no light. They were bloodshot, her nose raw and red.

  Staring back at her, I ignored my anger. My sense of betrayal. My disappointment. Those feelings were nothing new, but this terror that seized me, this threat to what I thought Elise and I were building? That was a fresh and menacing danger I couldn’t let out of my sight. If I did, it would surely sack me.

  So instead of grilling Ava on her night out, I asked the only question that mattered.

  “Why?”

  A flicker of surprise moved across her brow. “Because she knows how you are with me.”

  I shook my head, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the bedroom she’d just left. Flora was fast on our heels.

  “No. She only knows how I was.” I couldn’t decide if I wanted to pull Ava in my arms or grab her by the shoulders and shake her, so I let my fists fall to my sides. “Ava, I will give you everything you need to get well. You can spend the rest of your life in rehab if you need to, and I’ll cover it. And as long as you’re clean and sober, you can always live under my roof.”

  I watched shock and wonder widen her blue eyes.

  “But today is the last day I go chasing you out of bars or searching the streets for your body.”

  Somehow, the words made it past the squeezing in my chest, and I swallowed against my thickening throat. “And it’s not because I’m angry, though I am. And it’s not because I hate who we’ve become, though I do.”

  Ava pressed her lips together as the first tear spilled onto her cheek.

  “I just think it has to be up to you whether or not you kick this thing.” I ground my molars together and cleared my throat before I could continue. “I really hope you do. I’ve loved having you back, Ava. This past week or so has been… beautiful.” The last word came out a whisper because that was all I could manage.

  My sister was weeping silently now, but she hadn’t taken her eyes off me. Flora leaned toward her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and Ava turned into her embrace and sobbed with abandon.

  “Ava, honey,” Flora whispered. “Can I tell him what you told me?”

  For a moment, my sister could only cry, her body racking in great, shuddering heaves. Flora stroked her hair and murmured words I couldn’t make out.

  “I can say it if the words are too hard,” Flora told her.

  Sniffling, Ava shook her head and drew back. She wiped her face with the heels of her hands, and locked eyes with Flora before turning her agonized gaze to me.

  “I saw him push her that night.”

  My heart lurched, but then I shook my head. “No, you couldn’t have. You were sound asleep.” I thought about the night that left my mother in a wheelchair for weeks. The police had arrived as she was being loaded into the ambulance, and they had insisted on talking to each of us. I’d had to go to Ava’s room and shake her and shake her before she woke. ”It took forever for me to wake you up.”

  Ava jerked her head in short nods. “That’s all I remembered, too. You waking me up and telling me she’d fallen and a policeman wanting to talk to us.” Ava closed her eyes and twisted her fingers together in front of her. “But yesterday in yoga, I remembered. I inverted into plow pose. I watched my bare feet sail over my head, and I saw Mom’s feet in midair.”

  She opened her eyes, and I there I read agony, guilt, and shame. “I woke up that night because they were fighting, and I was scared. I opened my door to run down the hall to you. I saw them,” she said, her voice shaking. Her whole body was shaking. “He pushed her off the top step. She was wearing her emerald satin robe, and I saw her feet leave the floor… It looked like she was flying.”

  Ava clasped her elbows and hugged her arms against her frame. She looked at me with such dread in her eyes. “At Hazelden, they called it dissociation. They said—”

  I closed the distance and caught her in my arms, shaking my head. “It’s not your fault. You don’t need to explain. It’s not your fault.

  She sagged against me, and the sobs started again. “But I could have told the police,” she wailed against me. “That very night it could have been over.”

  “Shhh.” I clutched her to me as if I could keep these thoughts — the ones that had circled me like sharks for years — from swallowing her whole. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. Mom never would have left him. She wouldn’t have pressed charges. And you were just a kid.”

  Ava whimpered against me, protesting. “But if I had been stronger, if I could have told them what I saw—”

  “You don’t think I didn’t know the truth?” I pulled back so I could meet her gaze. “I heard them fighting. I heard her scream. I didn’t say anything to the police, and I had every opportunity.”

  I’d spent years blaming myself for all the ways I’d failed. Ava had spent years trying to numb the pain. It was time to accept the fact that we had been two children trapped in a world we couldn’t change or escape.

  But we were free now.

  “If your mind yielded up that memory, it’s because you’re strong enough to handle it now,” I told her, squeezing the top of her arms.

  Ava’s face nearly crumbled. She shook her head. “No. I’m not.” Grief and hopelessness etched her features. “I didn’t use, but I drank.”

  I nodded. “I know.” At least she was owning it. No denying. No hiding.

  Her look didn’t ease. “I blew my sobriety.”

  I nodded again. “You did.” I gave her a questioning stare. “But you look sober right now.”

  She gave a watery sigh. “I’m sober. I drank, but I didn’t get drunk.”

  At this, I raised a brow, wondering about that flight of tequila she’d ordered at Marley’s.

  “It’s true. I know it even if you don’t. I went to Jefferson Street Pub, but they had a band, and it was just too loud and crowded,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought I’d wanted to forget everything for a while, but being there only made me feel more raw.”

  “So you left?” I asked carefully.

  Ava nodded. “I went across the street to Marley’s, ordered tequila, and I took one shot.” She looked at me with eyes teeming with disappointment. “Nothing about it felt good. I walked out, and I just kept walking.”

  I wanted to believe her, but I decided it didn’t matter. Believing her wouldn’t change much. I filled my lungs and took a long exhale. “Like I said, your sobriety is up to you now.”

  She nodded quickly, her eyes welling again. “I want to go back to treatment. As soon as possible.”

  I have to admit, it wasn’t what I expected her to say, and my expression must have shown it. “Maybe not Hazelden,” she added. “Maybe just somewhere I can work on my issues where I can’t be a harm to myself.”

  I had to see this for the progress it was. “We’ll find the right place,” I told her.

  Flora stepped forward. “We’ve been doing some searching,” she said, glancing between me and Ava. “We’ve found a couple that might be right. There’s a place in Florida that has a yoga therapy program. Might be just the thing.”

  I stared. It struck me then that Ava had enlisted Flora’s help. She’d never asked anyone for help with her addiction. Not even me. For the first time all day, I smiled.

  I took a step back, squeezed Ava’s arms again, and the
n let her go. “It sounds like you have a plan,” I said, aiming a grin at my sister. Then I glanced back at the closed bedroom door behind me. “It’s probably time I made one too.”

  Chapter 32

  ELISE

  I felt like such an idiot.

  I’d made a complete fool of myself. How could I have thought I could gracefully walk away from him? Maybe after a week of crying buckets I could manage it. But right now? No way.

  He’d effectively trapped me in Mama’s room when what I desperately needed was to get the hell out of there, get back to my apartment, and crawl headfirst under the covers.

  At least he’d stopped yelling.

  After that, I only heard the sound of muffled voices. Cole’s. Mama’s. Maybe even Ava’s, too. One look at her slumped at a table in the cafe had nearly taken my knees out. She’d looked ruined, and I knew it would be enough to ruin Cole, too.

  I’d started crying then and there.

  Cole’s anger didn’t surprise me, though, I admit. I’d expected him to direct it at Ava. Not me. But what did I know of his brand of suffering? His frustration had to be awful. I could forgive him for a few shouted words.

  I could forgive him for damn near anything. That was the problem.

  Putting distance between us now was my only option. Even if I could let him go — and I knew I had to — I couldn’t be around him. The thought of looking him in the eyes set off a new crying jag.

  I’d already used about nine tissues, and I reached for another one. As I plucked it from the box, I heard a jiggling of the doorknob. Thinking it was probably Mama trying to get in to question me again. I quickly wiped my eyes and moved to the door to fend her off.

  But then I heard a clunk-click, the knob turned, and I was standing face to face with Cole Whitehurst. At my shocked expression, he held up a bobby pin.

  “I learned from the best,” he said archly.

  His gorgeous form filled the doorway, but I swear, his presence — his energy — seemed to take up the whole room. He was everything I saw. He was everything I wanted. And I still couldn’t have him.

  “Jesus Christ, Elise, what’s going on?”

  The threat of falling apart was the only thought that gave me strength. “I’m leaving.”

  He scowled at me. “The hell you are.”

  So, Cole was going to fight the inevitable separation. But I understood that if it was bound to happen, let it happen now. When I was ready for it. That was the safest course. Spending any more time with him would only serve to deepen this connection. It would give me hope, such cruel hope. And it would make it hurt so much worse once I allowed myself to love him the way I wanted to love him.

  He didn’t get to decide how much he’d hurt me. Leaving was the only thing I could control since I certainly couldn’t control my feelings.

  “I have to go.” I didn’t meet his eyes. I just strode for the door — which he was blocking. Cole didn’t budge.

  I glared at him. “Please move out of the way.”

  Shifting his weight, Cole widened his stance, his swimmer’s shoulders broadening wider. “No. Not until you talk to me.”

  My voice tightened, but I held the emotion in check. “I have nothing to say.”

  Those starlight blue eyes searched my face. I knew I looked a mess. Nothing could hide the fact that I’d been crying — sobbing — for the better part of an hour. His gaze softened as he took me in. I had to look away. The tenderness I saw would be my undoing if I let myself drink it in.

  “I have things to say.” His anger had returned, and the words came out clipped.

  I brought my gaze to the nap of the carpet in Mama’s bedroom and kept it there. This protected me. I crossed my arms over my chest. This protected me too. It would look like I was tolerating his insistence to be heard out, but in reality, I was holding myself together.

  “So speak,” I spurred. The sooner we got this over with, the sooner I could leave. And my only thought was to get to my car. I could fall apart then. I’d make it home somehow, and I’d fall apart some more.

  “Dammit, Elise. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. Nothing’s changed between us.”

  I smothered a mirthless laugh. He couldn’t have spoken more truth if he’d tried. Of course, nothing had changed. He had not changed. His worry over Ava. His need to keep her situation locked down. And his insistence to go it alone. If this morning hadn’t made that clear, what else possibly could.

  Little had changed for me. I still wanted Cole more than I should. In truth, he was all I wanted. But this time, I wouldn’t let myself be helpless. I couldn’t change the way I felt. I couldn’t change what Cole would do, but I could change what I did.

  Summoning a strength I wasn’t even sure I had, I raised my eyes to his. Aware of Mama and Ava just down the hall, I kept my voice low. “More has changed than you realize. And I don’t want to do this with you. Not again.”

  I shouldn’t have looked at him. Because I didn’t really want to see the way my words hit him. Like a slow-motion crash. First shock. Then pain. The last thing I’d ever want to do was hurt him.

  But it would be better for us both — in the long run, anyway — if we put all of this behind us. The sooner the better.

  His eyes narrowed on me. “What are you saying?”

  I put a hand to my neck. Heat closed around my throat like a scarf knotted too tightly. I forced the words out. “I need some distance.”

  “Distance.” He spat the word like a curse. Anger flickered in the blue flame of his eyes. “Bullshit, Elise. I just got you back.”

  I ignored the rawness in his voice. I had to. “Please move out of my way, Cole. This isn’t easy for me.”

  Glowering, he crossed his arms over his chest. “No way. We’re staying right here and talking about this.”

  Thank God I saw the fight in his eyes. It awoke my own defiance. My anger. My spirit. And that was just the shield I needed.

  I balled my hands into fists, my nostrils flaring. “God dammit, move!” I knew better than to approach him. Pushing him out of the way would be impossible. Touching him at all would be a tactical mistake. If I touched him, I’d weaken.

  He gave the tightest shake of his head and spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s not going to happen.”

  The fuse of my temper lit, and in an instant, I scanned the room. Could I climb out the window? Mama was on the ground floor. I’d look like an idiot, but did it really matter at this point? What about throwing a pillow at him? Or one of Mama’s orthopedic shoes. Would that give me the opening I needed to slip past him?

  Probably not.

  I raked my fingers through my hair, smothering a scream of frustration so it came out sounding like a wounded grazing animal. “Let me go!”

  “Never.”

  “Enough!” Mama’s sharp voice cut through the air.

  Cole spun to face her, and my stomach dropped. Mama was interfering, and that couldn’t be good for me.

  But she jabbed a finger into the air in front of Cole. “I love you like my own son, but this is my house, and you are not going to hold anyone here against her will. Not Elise. Not Ava. Not me!”

  My jaw dropped. And though I only had a view of Cole from behind, the set of his shoulders told me she’d surprised him too.

  “But, Flora—“

  “Do not disrespect me in my own home.” Mama’s brows were low, her voice even. I’d seen her warning tone more times than I could count, and although he’d never been on the receiving end of it, Cole got the message.

  “Of course.” Though he didn’t sound happy, his voice had lost its angry edge. “You’re right. I apologize.”

  Mama acknowledged his contrition with a nod of her head. “Now step aside.”

  Cole turned back to me, his eyes wary, his mouth tight. “Can we take this somewhere else?”

  He looked so stricken, I almost faltered. But this was likely the only reprieve I’d get. I had to take my chance.

  I swallowed
and shook my head. “I-I can’t.”

  He stared at me as if I was a doomed dog at the pound. The one who couldn’t get adopted because he growled whenever anyone approached his cage. I read so much in Cole’s eyes. Questions. Hurt. Betrayal. Maybe I wasn’t the dog in the pound at all. Maybe I was the one walking away from the condemned animal.

  Inwardly I shrunk from the thought. No. This was about preservation. For both of us. I turned my gaze from his, but I could still feel his eyes on me for a silent moment. And then he stepped back, clearing my way to the door.

  And I darted for it like a startled fawn.

  “Elise—“ Mama called after me, but there was no turning back.

  I caught a glimpse of Ava watching us from the front bedroom door, and then I was through the living room and outside.

  I sprinted to my car, and I was glad I remembered where I’d parked because actually making it out through my tears wasn’t going to happen. It was a blessing, ultimately, that Monday afternoon traffic choked the streets. I turned onto Kaliste Saloom road and crept behind the car in front of me.

  And I just drove.

  The room was shadowed in slate-gray light when I awoke to the soft knock on my bedroom door. My head felt like it was stuffed with gauze. My eyelids stung.

  “Elise?” Alberta called.

  Blinking against the sandpaper that must have sprouted on my eyeballs, I glanced at my bedside clock. It read 6:13. I’d slept for the better part of an hour after coming home and — thankfully — finding the apartment empty. I hadn’t been ready to talk to Alberta then, and I wasn’t sure I was ready now.

  “Elise… your mom called. Can I come in?”

  I sniffled and winced against my cry hangover. My whole body felt completely shredded, but the triangle between my eyebrows and nose throbbed acutely.

  I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead and ground down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Alberta didn’t respond for a moment, but I could almost see her look of worry through the closed door.

  “We don’t have to talk about it,” she said finally. “Can I come in?”