Matt poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey, Elena. How was your drive?”
“Good.” Elena shrugged. “Uneventful. The usual.”
“Good.” His gaze shifted to Hannah. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Give me just a sec.”
With a nod, Matt withdrew, and Hannah turned back to Elena, giving her one more hug. “I know your summer has been rough. I hope the fall goes better. I’ll see you tonight when we get back. Okay?”
“Okay.” Elena had to force the word out. Hannah’s acknowledgment of how hard things had been choked her up. But she swallowed that back down and forced a smile, blinking her eyes to clear the new welling of unwelcome moisture. “Thanks. I’ll have pie waiting for you.”
“Sounds good.” Hannah left the kitchen, and a minute later, the front door opened and closed, leaving Elena alone with her thoughts, which was not a place she liked to spend much time these days. Turning on her Taylor Swift channel on Pandora—nothing like some pop to make her feel better—she started to gather the ingredients for a single pie crust, noticing a carton of cream as she got out the butter. Hmm. Maybe she’d try out a French Silk pie. The creamy chocolate filling sounded good right now. She wouldn’t be able to garnish it with shaved chocolate curls, but otherwise, it should be good. First, the crust. Then, the filling. Distraction and control was the goal here. If she could manage that, she would make it through just fine.
CHAPTER TWO
Daniel parked on the street near the Rose Garden in Manito Park, grateful there were so many trees that he had a spot in the shade. Megan had invited him to Lance and Abby’s wedding when she’d called to try to convince him to be a model for the figure drawing class this semester. He’d had to say no to the modeling gig because it hadn’t fit in his schedule. Juggling classes and football during the fall semester was hard enough already.
“Oh. Of course.” She’d said, sounding disappointed. “Well, how about next semester?”
He’d chuckled. “I’ll think about it. Ask me again in November, okay?”
“Okay!” She’d sounded way too enthusiastic about that for his liking. “Hey, what are you doing next weekend?”
The fast subject change didn’t surprise him. He’d modeled for her major project last winter, and she’d already convinced him to pose for her again for a smaller project next month. She always jumped from topic to topic, the connections not obvious to anyone but her.
“Not much,” he’d said. “It’s the free weekend before classes start, so there’s a party Saturday night. But that’s all. Why?”
“Lance and Abby are getting married on Saturday morning at eleven. You have to come.”
He’d gotten to know them on their surf trip at the beginning of summer. They were engaged at the time, but as far as he knew, hadn’t set a wedding date. He hadn’t expected an invitation since Abby had said she wanted a small wedding.
“Are you sure your friends won’t mind if I’m crashing their wedding?”
She scoffed. “You’re not crashing. I’m inviting you. They didn’t send out formal invitations or anything. Lance’s family is here because his little sister is starting at Marycliff this semester. It’s just them and whatever friends are around. Chris got a couple days off to come, so he and Matt are the groomsmen. I’m the maid of honor, and Hannah’s going to be the other bridesmaid so the numbers are even. I’m pretty sure Elena’s coming too, but she’ll be sitting all alone if you don’t come.”
The smile in her voice had tipped him off. She was playing matchmaker. And thought she was being subtle about it. But that had made him reconsider the automatic no on the tip of his tongue. Elena had gone on that surf trip at the beginning of the summer too. They’d been the only two not part of a couple, so they’d ended up spending a large amount of time together. He almost hadn’t gone on the trip, actually, since Hannah would be there with Matt. Daniel had been afraid things would be awkward. He’d tried to date Hannah while she and Matt had been broken up and gone to Megan’s art show as her date since they’d modeled for a painting together. Matt had shown up and made Hannah cry. At first Daniel had thought Matt had upset her by being a dick, but he’d apologized for his role in their breakup, and Matt and Hannah had gotten back together later that night. She’d taken the time to explain to Daniel that she was still in love with Matt, and that she wasn’t interested in anyone else.
So when Chris had texted him to ask if he wanted to take a trip with them and learn to surf, he’d been surprised. Even more so when he’d found out that Matt would be the teacher. But he’d talked to Matt and there were no hard feelings. When he’d seen Elena, with her long, dark brown hair, bronze skin, and curves that were made for large hands like his, the attraction he’d felt with Hannah had paled. Honestly, if he’d met Elena first, he never would’ve asked Hannah out.
After that trip, he’d gone back home to Portland for the summer. He’d texted Elena a few times, but after about a week she’d said she was really busy with family stuff and didn’t respond to any other attempts he’d made to contact her.
So when Megan had asked, the prospect of seeing her again had been too much to resist. “Yeah, okay. I can make it.”
He stepped through the opening in the hedges, rows of roses spread out before him. Not as big as the Portland Rose Garden, but it was still a pretty backdrop for a wedding. A small group of people gathered at the top of a gentle slope in front of an archway, a few rows of white folding chairs set up facing it. That must be where the ceremony would take place. As he made his way toward the group, the August sun beat down on his dark brown skin, the temperature rising still at ten thirty in the morning. At least he could get away with khakis and a white button-down shirt that he’d left open at the collar and cuffed at his elbows because of the heat. Normally he’d be in full pads by this time of day and been running drills for hours. Since he wasn’t in the wedding party, he didn’t have to worry about a suit, though he had trimmed his hair with his clippers and shaved his usual scruff. He had more of a baby face without it, but he wanted to look respectable for the wedding.
He scanned the group of people, assuming the older white man and woman he didn’t recognize were Lance’s parents. A few of his teammates and their girlfriends milled around, chatting and fanning themselves with folded papers. Another middle-aged white man stood near the archway talking to Megan, who then spoke to someone else before she darted away, probably to wherever Abby was hiding.
Spotting Elena standing by herself off to one side of the chairs, he made his way in her direction. She had her hair down today, loose curls falling around her shoulders and down her back, her simple pink tank dress clinging to her curves in all the right ways, nipping in at her waist, and flowing past her hips. As he approached, she glanced up, her chin tilting up as her eyes skated over him before coming to rest on his face. The last time he’d seen her, those brown eyes had flared with heat and desire. But today her face remained impassive, not giving anything away, a solemness to her that hadn’t been there while they were in Westport.
“Hey,” she said, her dark red lips parting only enough to let out that small word of greeting.
“Hey.” He stopped next to her, not quite close enough to touch, standing side by side and looking around, taking everything in. Her head came up to his shoulder since she had on heels today. “Weddings not your thing?”
He glanced at her to find her giving him a strange look, her eyebrows raised. “Why do you ask that?”
Lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug, he glanced back at the group of people still milling around near the arch while he stood with Elena off to one side. “Well, you’re by yourself, and you don’t look very happy to be here.”
She snorted softly, and he glimpsed a tiny uptick of her lips out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not weddings. I’m just not feeling all that social lately. But they didn’t invite very many people, so my absence would be noticed. Especially since my best friend and her boyfriend, who are both my roomm
ates, are in the wedding party.”
He’d given up the pretense of not looking at her by now, giving her his full attention. What had happened with her family this summer? Whatever it was had had a profound effect on her, because the Elena he’d gotten to know would be in the thick of the crowd, chatting, meeting all the people she didn’t know, and having a good time. Part of what made the trip so much fun had been her dragging whoever would come with her all over the area to the different chintzy tourist places. Most of the time it had just been him, the other couples choosing to surf or, in the evenings, getting busy in their rooms. They had a block of rooms at a hotel, and the walls weren’t very thick, so he could hear Chris and Megan, whose bed apparently shared a wall with his, going at it. A lot.
He’d jumped at any chance Elena had given him to get out of there, feeling like a perv listening to their homemade porno soundtrack and getting hard. There was something particularly awkward about being acquainted with the people you could hear having sex, but not being friends enough to give them shit about it. And spending time with Elena was better than fantasizing about her. And by the end of that trip, the fantasy had become a reality more than once. As they’d spent more time together, he’d gotten bolder, and touching had turned into kissing, which had led to her inviting him back to her room the last two nights they were in Westport.
But this solemn version of her who’d only given him the barest of smiles instead of a hug or a kiss on the cheek? This was someone different. “Rough summer?”
She looked skyward, blinking rapidly before answering, her voice rough and choked. “You could say that.”
“I’m sorry.” He paused, unsure what to do or say. Wanting to offer comfort, because even though they hadn’t talked in a couple of months, he still liked her. But since she hadn’t initiated any kind of physical touch, not even a handshake, he hesitated to offer her a hug. She seemed withdrawn, holding herself at a physical distance from everyone, as though needing the space to maintain her psychological distance. Now was not the time to breach that. “You want to talk about it?”
She shook her head, looking down, letting her hair fall in a curtain around her face. More barriers. “Not now. Not here.”
Unable to help himself, he brushed his hand over her shoulder and down her arm. “Later, then? I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” Her eyes met his, and the unshed tears there twisted his gut. It had definitely been a bad summer. “You know,” he offered, “I have experience with bad family stuff.”
Her mouth twisted. “Okay. Later. After everything.” She looked away from him, glancing at the people past him, then met his eyes again. The tears were gone now. “I think they’re getting started. We should sit.”
They claimed two seats on the end. A violinist stood off to one side, playing something pretty and classical sounding while everyone took their seats, switching to a different song while the wedding party walked down the tiny aisle.
“Please rise,” intoned the minister as the traditional wedding march began. He turned to see Abby walking through the hedges bordering the garden, her eyes fixed on Lance. She walked alone, a small bouquet of multicolored roses in her hands, wearing a simple, strapless wedding dress. She looked beautiful, her face radiant. And Lance’s expression matched hers. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, like it took everything in him to stay in place and wait for her to walk to him. Chris’s hand on Lance’s arm confirmed that impression.
They exchanged the traditional vows, smiling widely as they slipped rings on each other’s fingers. The minister read that famous Bible passage about love, and everyone clapped and cheered when he said, “You may now kiss the bride.” Lance bent Abby backward for a thorough kiss. When he stood her back up, her cheeks glowed pink, and she hid her face in Lance’s chest. He chuckled, rubbing his hand down her back as the minister announced, “I’m happy to present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Lance and Abby Kane!”
The violinist played the familiar recessional music as Lance and Abby walked back down the aisle, her arm through his, followed by the other two couples. Daniel glanced down at Elena, and was happy to see her smiling, even if it was still tinged with sadness. “Do you want to go to the reception? Or would you rather bail?”
She looked around, glancing back at the wedding party gathered behind the chairs, laughing and talking. “I should go for a little while, at least. They have a room reserved at Luigi’s for lunch.”
“Alright. Did you drive?”
She nodded, her eyes sliding away from him again. Eventually she drifted away to give her congratulations to the bride and groom. Daniel let her have her space as he followed to do the same, constantly aware of her presence as he helped fold and stack the chairs in the back of someone’s pickup. After everything was cleared away, they all drove to Luigi’s for the reception. He made an effort to converse with his friends, laughing and chatting, but constantly on watch for a signal from Elena that she was ready to go. All he wanted to do was get her alone and find out what was responsible for the sadness that never left her face, even when she smiled, making her laughter subdued and rare rather than quick and full like it used to be. She seemed like a shadow of the girl he’d met.
Every time she met his eyes, she looked away quickly, like she didn’t want to let him see too much. Would she let him in enough to tell him what was going on? She’d said she wanted to tell him, but she seemed to be delaying. And he didn’t know what that meant.
CHAPTER THREE
“So, um, I’m sorry about cutting you off like that this summer.” Elena said, barely looking up from the glass of water he’d gotten for her when they arrived at his apartment. She sat at the cheap kitchen table his roommate Coop’s parents had bought them when they’d moved in together last summer. Coop wasn’t here, thankfully. When Daniel had texted to let Coop know he was bringing a girl over, Coop had made himself scarce. Not that Daniel wanted privacy for the reasons Coop would think, but everything about Elena’s demeanor screamed her desire to have this conversation away from anyone else.
“It’s okay,” he reassured her, pausing to watch her run her slim fingers up and down the condensation gathering on her glass of ice water. She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t meet his eyes, so he leaned forward and touched her arm, wanting to offer some physical token of comfort. “You said you had some family stuff going on. I figured it must’ve been bad enough to take over your life for a while. I know how that goes.”
She finally glanced at him, her eyes running over his face, but then she focused on the condensation on her glass once more. “Do you?” The question was soft, almost distracted. “I bet it’s not the same as mine.”
He shrugged, even though she still wasn’t looking at him, and sat back in his chair. Maybe it wasn’t the same situation, but he knew messy family shit. And whatever was going on with Elena, she clearly needed someone to talk to, someone she felt safe sharing the mess with. He wanted to be that someone for her if she’d let him.
With a deep breath, he laid out the bald facts of his own messy family shit. “My parents divorced when I was thirteen. Dad moved out at the beginning of the summer. It pretty much ruined everything. I didn’t get to do very much. Instead, my little brother and I got shuttled back and forth between my parents, alternating every couple of weeks until school started. The divorce got finalized pretty soon after that, and my mom got primary custody, with every other weekend with my dad. He would always threaten to take Mom to court to change the custody agreement when she wouldn’t give in to him. But it wasn’t because he wanted more time with us. We were pawns to him, something to be used to gain the upper hand. He’s always given us expensive, crazy things to try to make up for the fact that he didn’t spend as much time with us. Oh, and his girlfriends always look closer to my age than his.”
Elena let out a soft grunt. “I’m sorry. That is sucky.”
“Yeah, well”—he kept his tone intentionally bland—“I was the first of my friends to get an
iPhone, so that was something. And I always get the upgrade as soon as the family plan allows.”
Now she snorted, setting her glass back down after taking a sip. “Like that makes up for it.”
“Right? But whatever. You find the good where you can.” His hand settled on the table, reaching for her, but he stopped himself this time, unsure if she wanted his touch right now. “So what about you? Your parents splitting up? I can’t imagine that would be much easier in college than in middle school. Though you won’t have to worry about custody agreements.”
Something like a smile ghosted across her lips. And he was glad that she’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail when she went home to change into shorts and a tank top before coming over to his place. With the way she kept her head down, her gaze fixated on her fingers tracing lines over her glass, her hair would’ve been in her face. This way, he could at least see her profile.
“No.” She shook her head. “Custody agreements definitely aren’t the problem. My parents are still together. I wish it was only that.” The last sentence came out softer, like she didn’t quite mean to say it.
“Trust me, you don’t really wish that.” More bitterness infused his voice than he intended, and her gaze flicked up to his.
She bit her lip, seeming to consider her next words. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and started talking, the words coming fast and monotone, like she wanted to get it all out as fast as she could. “My dad got in a car accident the week after we got back from Westport. Someone ran a stop sign and plowed into the passenger side, pushing him into the other lane. His head hit the window hard, and then he got hit from the front, slamming his head back against the headrest. The second driver tried to stop, so it wasn’t as bad of a hit as it could’ve been, but it was a two-lane highway, and she was going fifty-five, so she didn’t have enough space to do more than slow down a little.” She shook her head, her eyes opening, but still not looking at him. “He spent two weeks in the hospital, the first in a medically-induced coma until the swelling in his brain went down enough. They weren’t sure he’d actually come out of the coma.” She swallowed, blinking rapidly. “He did, though. The hospital staff was surprised with how quickly he recovered. At least according to them. He got discharged and sent to a rehab facility. He stayed there for another month before he came home. But—” She bit her lip, shaking her head again, and stopped.
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