Page 58

FIFTY-EIGHT

ELI

I’ve been redoing Pops’s place for the past month. I wanted to give him somewhere new and fresh to come home to. Somewhere he wouldn’t get lost in painful memories. I ran it by him in one of our weekly family sessions, and he seemed on board, so Lee and I have been working on it ever since. It’s almost done, just his bedroom left, which is what we’re tackling today.

He has one month left at Stepping Stones, and if it weren’t for his court date looming, I think we’d all be a bit more excited for his return home. His lawyer believes he’ll be able to avoid actual jail time. The people he hit aren’t pressing charges, and the fact he’s already taken steps to better himself will work in his favor, but at the end of the day, he still drove under the influence and crashed into a family. He’ll most likely be looking at house arrest and a long stint of probation. Normally, there would be alcohol courses, but his lawyer thinks the ninety-day rehab will satisfy the judge, as long as he keeps going to meetings.

Meanwhile, here I am, trying to make moves to start this new phase of my own life and also feeling responsibility for Pops’s. I’m not sure whether to live here and keep him straight, or if I should find my own place. I’ve been wavering back and forth, the pressure grinding down on my chest whenever I think about making the wrong choice.

I called the realtor to start scouting the area, just in case.

It’s been nice, having time with Lee. I never knew she was so funny. It makes me happy to get to know who she is in a way I never have before, even when we were kids. I’m grateful to be building the type of relationship I always envied in other families. One where we learn to appreciate each other for who we are, not who we want the other to be.

She’s been asking about my time away from home, about what things were like for me with the injury. How things have been going with Becca since I’ve been back.

Which they haven’t been. I’ve seen Becca a few times in passing, but even though every fiber of my being screams to stand next to her just to be in her presence, I’ve stopped myself.

I’ve heard the gossip around town, though. It’s impossible to get away from the scandal of Preacher Sanger’s ungrateful daughter disassociating with the church, leaving God—and the folks who raised her—behind.

I’ve been tempted to ask Lee, but something feels wrong about learning the details through anyone other than Becca.

I don’t know how to approach her. Not sure how to bridge the gap from where we were to where I want us to be. But I’m so damn proud of her for finally breaking away and standing up for herself.

For not running.

I’m thinking about that very thing while Lee and I eat fast food she picked up on her way over. My phone vibrates across the kitchen table, and I glance down to see who it is, then reach out to silence it.

“You avoidin’ someone?” she asks, taking a bite of her burger.

“Mind your business much?” I snark back, smiling.

She grins. “It’s my sisterly duty to be nosy. I’ve got a lotta years to make up for.” Her eyes widen. “There’s a boatload of annoyin’ left in me, just dyin’ to break free.”

“Now that I believe.” I crunch up my foil wrapper, tossing it into the trash can. “It was Kim Bakerson.”

Her nose scrunches. “The realtor?”

“The one and only.” I nod.

“You two datin’, or you lookin’ for a place?”

I smirk. “I am definitely not dating Kim. I have her looking around to see if there’s anything I’d be interested in. But…” I sigh, leaning back. “I don’t know. Do you think maybe I should stay here? Make sure Pops has someone looking out for him?”

“No, I definitely do not think that. I know what it’s like to spend every moment worryin’ about Daddy. It’ll suck the soul right outta ya. Don’t fall into the codependency traits I’ve been learnin’ how to overcome, Eli. It’s a vicious cycle.”

I grimace, picking at the napkin on the table. “You don’t think I owe it to him?”

She shakes her head. “You’re here. You’re doin’ everything you can. But you deserve to have a life you enjoy. Livin’ life for others ain’t no way to live.” She pops a fry in her mouth. “What’s your happy place?”

“My happy place?”

“Yeah…you know…it doesn’t need to be an actual place. Just somethin’ that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

I pick up my Coke and take a sip, thinking about what she asked. My happy place. I’ve never had too many moments of pure, unadulterated joy, not even when I went first in the draft. Everything’s been tainted by the pressures of success or the sting of loneliness. The only time I’ve felt happy just existing was in Florida.

With Becca.

Which is maybe why it hurt so bad when she left. Why I’ve held on to so much anger. It wasn’t because I hated her ; it was that no one else could compare. No one else lit me up in all the ways she did.

“Becca,” I mutter, setting my Coke back down.

Lee leans in, her brows shooting to her hairline. “Did you just say Becca?”

I nod once, my jaw tensing.

A knowing smile sprouts across her face, her blue eyes twinkling. “You two are really somethin’ else.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You both are walkin’ around town, tryin’ like heck to be happy alone, when you could just get over it and be happy together.”

I narrow my eyes. “Just get over it ? Like that?” I snap my fingers.

She shrugs. “Pretty much.”

“Lee, she left. Without a word.” My chest caves in with the sudden ache. “She made me love her and then she left me.”

Lee crosses her arms. “And?”

My eyes widen. “And what?”

“We all make mistakes, Eli. Sometimes they’re disastrous, life-changin’ mistakes.” She reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “But eventually, we have to let go of the grudges that stunt our growth and keep us bitter.”

“Easy for you to say,” I scoff.

“It’s not, actually. I know what it feels like to love someone so hard and then hate them for hurtin’ you.” Her hand comes up to rub at her chest. “But the thing is, Eli, it’s easier to be angry than it is to forgive because the anger gives you comfort. There’s no risk. It might feel like crap, but at least you know what to expect when it hits.”

“And what about forgiveness?” I ask.

“Forgiveness is…” She sighs. “Forgiveness is hard. Lettin’ someone back in is harder. It’s like takin’ a leap of faith while bein’ afraid of heights.”

My throat swells, the scar tissue forming the wall around my heart tearing at her words.

“Do you still love her?” She cocks her head.

My chest squeezes as I nod. “I think I’ll always love her.”

“Well, you’ll do what you want. I won’t push.” Lee’s eyes grow sad, a dark hue swirling through the icy blue. “I just hope you don’t look back in five years and regret not takin’ the leap. Especially if she’s your happy place.”

She drops the subject, but her words slide through the cracks of my heart, making it beat a different rhythm.

* * *

Normally Lee would be with me at Ma’s grave. I’ve started visiting every Sunday with her, but she’s in Nashville with Chase, so today I’m here alone.

My mind whirls the same way it has ever since my talk with Lee about what makes me happy.

I spent so much time after Becca left, blaming her for the hollowness that raged inside me. But she’s not responsible for my emptiness, just as she’s not responsible for my happiness. It’s unfair to put your emotional well-being on someone else’s shoulders, and I’ve spent the majority of my life doing just that.

Becca didn’t cure me when she showed up in my life. She was the bandage to my loneliness, and once she was gone, it ripped the scab, making me bleed all over again, only this time it was worse because I knew what it felt like to love her and then lose her. So I channeled everything into my hurt, instead of working on healing the wounds that existed before her.

And then I used Sarah, hoping that appeasing Ma with a marriage after her death would fill something within myself, some twisted sense of obligation for all the ways I didn’t show up when she was still alive, not considering that all she ever wanted was my happiness.

There’s no recovering from her death, no making up for the things I wish I had done differently. But Lee’s right: you can either stay still, living in the mistakes, or you can take the leap and hope like hell you make it to the other side.

There’s a sound behind me, like paper crinkling, and I spin toward the noise. As if I manifested her from my thoughts, Becca stands there with a bouquet of flowers clenched between her fingers.

My stomach flips, the way it always does when she’s near.

“Hi,” she breathes.

“Hi. What are you doing here?” I ask.

She lifts the bouquet and nods toward Ma’s headstone. “Lee asked me to come by and drop these off since she couldn’t make it.” Her head tilts. “Surprised to see you here, though. She made it sound like no one else could do it.”

I chuckle. Of course she did. “She knew I would be here. I’ve been coming here with her the past few Sundays.”

“Oh. That’s good. She said y’all were gettin’ along better.”

“Yeah.”

She bobs her head, her gaze darting around the cemetery.

There are so many things on the tip of my tongue, but somehow, I still don’t know what to say. So I’m silent—stuck in place—staring at her like a moron, the air spreading thin from the energy crackling between us.

She smiles softly and walks past me, her sweet scent floating on the breeze, making my nostrils flare when it hits.

Crouching down, she unwraps the bouquet, adding them to the flowers I already brought. Her hand reaches out and rests on top of Ma’s name, her head bowing.

I stand back and watch her, emotion swelling in my chest at the sight of her having a moment with Ma. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget how close they were. That she was affected by the loss, too.

It isn’t until she rises back up a few minutes later that I see the wetness on her cheeks. My heart thrums in my ears, my fists clenching to stop myself from reaching out to comfort her.

“So.” She swipes a curl from her forehead. “How ya been?”

“Good. Really good.”

She nods, shifting on her feet, her hands in her back pockets. “That’s good.” She blows out a breath, rocking back on her heels. “This is awkward, huh?”

A laugh bursts out of me. “Fuck…yes. I’m glad you said it.”

She giggles. “You excited to start your new gig? Not long now.”

My stomach clenches, my muscles locking tight. “Yeah. I can’t wait.”

She watches me, her gaze softening the longer she stares. “You nervous?”

“Yep.”

She steps closer, and I can feel the heat of her body wrapping around me, offsetting the slight chill from the evening breeze.

“They’re gonna love you,” she whispers. “You’re meant to lead, Eli. Don’t forget it.”

My chest splits at her words—at the fact she just knows what I need to hear. “Yeah, hope so.” I run my hand over my hair. “How about you? I heard about your parents.”

“Yeah.” She swallows thickly, glancing at her feet. “I’ve been lettin’ them use me for a long time. Now I’m free of that, so I’ll be all right. I’m a little sad, though.”

I nod, my hand scratching the scruff on my chin. “Takes a lot of guts to do what you did. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Too bad it took me so long, huh?” She smiles.

I shrug. “Better late than never.”

“Right.” She scratches at her temple. “Listen, you…” She reaches up, tangling her fingers through her hair. “You asked me why …and I never really gave you the answers you deserve. If you’re still wantin’ to know, I reckon it’s far past time for me to tell you.”

My gut clenches, the closure that I’ve been craving suddenly close enough to grasp. “You know I do,” I rasp.

She nods. “I lived my whole childhood lookin’ up to two men. My old man and the big guy up in the sky.” She points above her head. “And then I experienced my first heartbreak when I caught Papa with Sally Sanderson when he shoulda been home with my momma.”

My stomach sours at the thought of her finding him that way. Of all the repercussions that could have on any person, let alone a child.

Maybe I should be shocked, but I can’t say I’m truly surprised. Preacher Sanger puts on a good facade, but if you look close enough, it’s easy to see through the mask.

“And from then on, when I looked at my momma,” she continues, “I saw a broken woman, tricked into a life by a man who spun pretty lies and trapped her in his web.”

My chest squeezes. “So you’re saying…”

“I’m sayin’ I was afraid of what it meant to let myself love you. To let myself be loved.” She swallows, glancing at the ground before meeting my eyes. “Have you ever let someone in, let someone else’s words become your gospel?”

My heart stalls, images of all the times Pops’s words gripped me tight and never let go, even after I had been gone for years.

I nod, my jaw clenching.

“Papa may be the preacher, but it’s Momma who writes the scripture. And together they…” She blows out a breath. “Together they twisted me up so good, I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. My folks have been manipulatin’ me my entire life. Especially my momma. Ever since I was a little girl, she’s been putting images in my head of what life would be like if I let someone in…if I let someone love me. Hell, she made me believe for the longest time that there wasn’t such a thing as someone who would stick around just because they cared. It’s not an excuse.” She shakes her head. “But it is what it is. I loved you so much.” Her eyes glisten, her tongue swiping along her lower lip. “And it terrified me.” She smiles softly. “Still does, if I’m honest.”

My heart jolts, thumping against my chest at the thought of her loving me—of her never having stopped.

“I’m workin’ on it, though. On me . I’m learnin’ to separate who I’ve always been told to be with who I really am. Learnin’ how to not let my fear of the future overpower my happiness in the now. That’s all any of us can really do, right? Is try.”

I swallow, my mouth sluggish while the missing puzzle pieces start to click into place. And while it doesn’t make the past disappear, it does bring me peace. A blank hole that’s been filled with a sense of understanding.

“Anyway.” She sighs. “It was real nice to see you. I’ll let you get back to time with your mama.”

My heart stutters as she starts to leave. There’s this feeling that’s been flittering inside me for days. An anxious energy that bursts as she walks down the path back to the lot.

“Hey,” I yell.

She turns, her eyebrow quirking.

“You hungry?”

A smile spreads across her face, highlighting the rosy hue that dusts across her cheeks.

She nods.

My heart leaps.

I follow.