Page 134 of Shelter
Silence was my only answer. I knocked again, waiting what I thought was a reasonable, respectful amount of time before opening it. When I did, I found everything in order, the room tidy and her bed made.
Frowning, I returned to the kitchen, aiming to check the garage for her car. But on the way there, I saw slip of notepad paper on the dining table.
Morning Cole (and Elise!),
Going to a yoga class, then a meeting. See you this afternoon.
Xoxo,
Ava
“Everything okay?”
I looked up from the note to find Elise dressed and ready to go, wearing a concerned frown. I glanced back at my sister’s words.
“Everything’s fine,” I said. Then I admitted the truth. “I just have some work to do.”
“Work?” Elise’s frown turned curious.
“I mean I need to learn how to live with a sister who’s in recovery instead of one who’s in the grips of addiction.” I shook my head. “I keep waiting for her to screw up again, when what I really should do is have faith that this time she won’t.”
Elise moved closer until she stood right in front of me. She placed a hand on my elbow. “It sounds like she’s doing everything right.”
I nodded. “She is. I’m the one who’s still stuck in the past.” The concern returned to her eyes. Her hand clasped around mine. I squeezed back. “My life has revolved around Ava and her problems for so long I don’t know anything else.”
I watched her swallow. “Don’t expect to change overnight.” She spoke gently, but her words were measured. “This is who you are. It’s who you’ve always been.”
I heard a hint of sadness in her tone, and I saw it there reflected in her eyes. Sadness was not where I wanted the morning to go. I shook my head roughly, ready to shed the heaviness.
“Maybe I can’t change overnight, but today’s a new day. Saturday, in fact,” I teased. “And I’m ready for some bacon and eggs.”
Her mouth quirked in a smile. I wanted to see it reach her eyes, but she looked down at our hands instead.
“Don’t forget biscuits and coffee.”
“Who could forget biscuits and coffee?”
Chapter 29
ELISE
“I think we should take separate cars to Mama’s.”
Spending the weekend with Cole was like holding giant sparklers in each hand. Giddy. Dazzling. Searing hot at the core. And over much too quickly.
In my apartment, Cole had unapologetically snooped — so typical of the boy I remembered that I could only laugh as he flipped through my sketchpads and opened my dresser drawers while I had packed.
Over a lazy breakfast of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and coffee at Rusted Rooster, we had talked about everything from our favorite beach activities (Cole: jet ski. Me: paddleboard) to what kind of dog we’d like to own and what we would name it if we ever got one (Cole: a rescued greyhound named Nikola. Me: a King Charles spaniel named Ruby.)
The bikini I’d managed to pack was put to good use Saturday afternoon while Cole swam laps and I sketched by the pool. It even made it all the way inside after Cole had left the water, brushed the towel over his glistening body in a few rough strokes, and then pretty much pounced on me.
Ava had come and gone again. She had sat on one of the kitchen stools and watched us while we made salad and garlic bread to go with the leftover spaghetti, but when Cole had tried to serve her a plate, she’d declined, saying she wanted to take a book and hang out at Reve’s Coffee Roasters downtown.
I’d watched a flicker of concern pass over Cole’s face at this announcement, but then he visibly swallowed and mastered his expression.
After dinner, we’d curled up on the couch and watched two and a half episodes ofDrunk History.Cole had been lying with his head in my lap while I’d scratched and tickled his back. At some point during that third episode, he rolled over and started kissing my knees. And then my thighs.
And then the inseam of my shorts.
