Elliott Redeemed

by Scarlett Cole

  “I swear to God,” Elliott said as Nik grabbed him and pulled him to his feet, “if you ever talk about the two of them like that again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  “Not here,” Jordan shouted as he came to stand between the two of them, putting his back to most of the people watching. He offered his hand to Lennon, who ignored it.

  “It was a joke,” Lennon said, helping himself up off the ground.

  “It’s always a fucking joke with you,” Elliott said. “You know what? You’re the fucking joke, Lennon. You aren’t half the man Adam was. If he were still alive, you wouldn’t even be here. He’d still be our drummer, and you’d be the sniveling little shit you were when you arrived.”

  More camera flashes exploded. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Dred said. “Nothing good is going to come of hanging around.”

  “Fuck you, I’m staying,” Lennon said, but the color had drained out of his face at Elliott’s words.

  Jordan shook his head. “Nah. We’re all out, man. Even if I gotta drag you, motherfucker. You messed with Nik and Elliott already. Don’t push me too.”

  Lennon shouldered past Nik and headed toward the exit, and they all followed.

  “You, okay, man?” Dred asked Elliott as they took the steps out of the club.

  Was he? “Kendalee and me . . . we . . . it’s not just a friend thing anymore. And Daniel, her son. Kid’s in some serious shit, but I seem to get through to him. And hearing Lennon talk about them that way . . . I just couldn’t listen to it. Or dismiss it.”

  Dred was silent for a moment as Jordan and Nik bundled Lennon into the first cab in line. “He’s never had a filter, and I know if he uttered a single word about Pix or Petal, I’d probably want to kill the fucker myself. But he’s ours, and I overheard something last year. He was on the phone with someone. No idea who it was, and as much as he doesn’t deserve me telling the fucking world what he said, he told whoever he was talking to that he doesn’t feel like he belongs here anyway.”

  Elliott shook his head. Lennon was the annoying, shit-stirring younger brother who had issues. A fucking boatload of them. “I know what you’re trying to do there, Dred. But the guy deserves what he gets. I won’t cut him any slack when it comes to my woman and her son.”

  “Is that how you think of Kendalee already?”

  The words had slipped out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to really consider the depth of their meaning. The band was his family. The only one he’d ever needed. But the idea of Kendalee disappearing from his life hurt worse than the night in the bathroom with his lighter.

  They jumped into the second cab and followed the rest of the band back to the hotel in silence. Once there, Elliott and Dred wandered up to Jordan’s suite and knocked on the door. Nik and Lennon were already waiting inside.

  “I’m sorry,” Lennon said, quietly without looking at him. “I really didn’t mean to take it that far.”

  Elliott wasn’t in the mood to be charitable, even though the energy in the room was considerably more subdued than in the club. “Yeah. Well, let me say it again now you’re paying attention. Don’t talk about Kendalee and Daniel like that ever again. This shit is complicated enough without you making it worse.”

  Jordan threw him a water, which he caught before sitting down on the large sofa. There was a deathly silence over the room as everyone grabbed a drink and sat down. Shit.

  Dred’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Can I call you back, sweetheart? . . . Yeah . . . Me too. Not now. No . . . okay. I’ll tell them. Yeah. . . . Love you too.”

  Elliott’s phone burned in his pocket. He wanted to call Kendalee. See how her day went . . . see how Daniel was doing. See if there was any news about his upcoming surgery. But it was too late in the evening to be bothering her at the hospital, no matter how badly he wished he was by her side.

  “I’m sorry to you too, Nik,” Lennon said as he stood. “You know I think the world of Jenny.”

  Elliott watched the two of them hug, and for the first time since the club, he breathed deeply. “I know you guys think this is a disaster waiting to happen. And I know it’s only been a couple of weeks since I met Kendalee and Daniel, but it’s different for me.” He stood too. No matter what time of night it was, he needed to contact her, even if she was already asleep and unable to respond.

  “We’re worried about you, though,” Nik said from his spot over by the balcony. “It all seems too . . . connected.”

  Elliott rubbed his hand over his face. “It is all too connected. I know it should be my worst fucking nightmare, but I can see a way to help Daniel. The shit that kid is going through is impossible to understand unless you’ve actually been through it. And Kendalee, she fucking soothes the crazy in my head. She—”

  “Does she know?” Jordan asked.

  “Does she know what?” Elliott asked, his stomach clenching as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

  Jordan raised an eyebrow in a way that said he totally understood why Elliott had asked the question. “Does she know you were diagnosed as a pyromaniac? Does she know you’ve fought an impulse control disorder since you were a kid?” While the questions were hard to hear, Jordan’s tone wasn’t judging. Just inquiring. But . . . fuck . . . they were at the very root of his concerns about how Kendalee would react to hearing his answers. “Does she know you still do a form of what got her into all this mess?”

  Sadly, and somewhat beaten, he shook his head. “No. I haven’t told her yet.”

  “It could be as simple as you all need each other, El,” Dred said, coming to stand in front of him. “Tell her, and decide together what to do.”

  It sounded fucking simple. But if that was true, why did it feel as though he had the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders at the very idea of exposing himself fully to her? With the exception of Maisey and Ellen, the only people who had ever accepted him were in this room.

  “You deserve love as much as any of us, Elliott. She’ll get it. Pixie did,” Dred added. “And she’s going to make me a dad again in the new year.”

  Wait. What? Elliott grabbed his friend in a tight hug as the others jumped to their feet. Watched the scene unfold as if in slow motion. Watched the looks of shock, then joy, then excitement that rivaled that of a kid at Christmas. And just like that, the tough conversations fell away, leaving nothing but the five of them and their hopes for a better life. He wanted what Dred had. He wanted a family. And he wanted Kendalee.

  He could only hope that after telling her everything, she’d be the first woman to stand by him, by choice.

  * * *

  “You okay there, Daniel?” Kendalee asked, stretching her arms above her head. The cot the hospital provided was anything but comfortable, but after the weeks they’d spent together they were coming to an understanding. If the bed just let her grab a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, she wouldn’t silently curse it repeatedly in her head.

  “Not too bad, but they’re going to change my dressings again today, aren’t they?” he said quietly. She didn’t know what hurt her more, watching him suffer, or hearing the abject resignation in his voice. There was nothing she could do about his physical condition, but there was plenty she could do to ensure he kept fighting.

  “Hey,” she said, shifting quickly from her bed to the side of his. Perching her butt on the bed, she took his hand. “I know this feels like more than you can bear, but each time they get changed, you’re a step closer to being healed enough to come home.”

  Daniel shook his head. “There’s a lot wrong with that sentence.”

  “So, talk to me,” she said. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “One, healed? Really? This is a long way from healed. I won’t be healed. I’ll never be healed. I’ll always look like a burn victim.”

  The word “victim” turned her stomach. “Please, can we use ‘survivor’? It’s an important differentiation. Do you remember how we talked with your therapist about how mindset plays a
really important role in—”

  “To-mae-to, to-mah-to. I’ll have scars up my legs for the rest of my life no matter what word I use.”

  He had a point. “Agreed. This isn’t going to be easy. But every day it’s easier. Every day you heal a little more. Before you know it, you’ll be in compression stockings to flatten the burns, and—”

  “Staying in the house for the next year or two to avoid sunburn.”

  Kendalee sighed. “Daniel. Be reasonable. That isn’t what the nurse said. You are allowed to go outside. We just need to be super careful with sunscreen and keeping your skin covered when we can.”

  Daniel folded his arms across his chest and huffed. “And where is home going to be exactly?”

  Finally, something she could say that might brighten his mood. “Elliott has said we can stay with him for as long as we need to.”

  Daniel looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Seriously. But only until the insurance is taken care of, and I can find us a new place to live.” It had been difficult persuading Adrian, but Kendalee was adamant that Daniel not know that their insurance claim had been rejected. He’d argued that as part of his healing journey Daniel needed to come to terms quickly with the damage he’d inflicted on them all. But as far as Kendalee was concerned, Daniel already had enough to deal with. Finding out that it was his fault they were homeless couldn’t possibly improve his mental state.

  “Are you, like, his girlfriend?” he asked, shyly.

  Kendalee took a deep breath. “We’re good friends, that’s all.”

  “Oh.” His voice was filled with disappointment. “Because, I’d be cool . . . you know. If you wanted to.”

  She stood and made a show of straightening the table at the side of his bed, aimlessly re-stacking the neatly piled magazines a school friend had brought over the previous day. In the only dating conversations she’d ever envisioned having with her son, their roles had been reversed.

  “Dad was an idiot to leave you. . . . You’re not just the best mom in the world, you’re a pretty wonderful person.”

  Kendalee looked over toward him, tears stinging her eyes at his nearly whispered words.

  “I mean it, Mom. You’re always here for me. You always believed me. And you look good for your age.”

  She laughed at that. “Thanks, I think.”

  “You know what I mean.” Daniel lowered his head. “I just think that, you know, you shouldn’t be alone. And I think I’d prefer to live with Elliott than Dad.”

  Internally, she agreed with her son, and shocked herself with the speed at which she had come to that decision. “Well, I am not living with him as his girlfriend. I have my own room and stuff,” she said, careful not to raise his expectations. Plus, she wasn’t even sure how to define what it was they had going on. Some relationships were like a flash fire, full of heat but no substance. They had plenty of heat, but only time would tell if they had any endurance. “He’s very committed to coming to see you.”

  “Will he come today?” Daniel asked, a hint of excitement replacing the worry and fear of earlier.

  The flight schedule on the fridge suggested not. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t think so. His plane doesn’t land until later on today.”

  “Good morning,” Annalise, the nurse who often changed his dressings, said as she entered the room to feed Daniel his meds through his PICC line. “Ready to do this, Daniel?” she asked. “I can’t wait to see how much progress you’ve made since we last changed them.”

  Neither could Kendalee. They were hitting the home stretch as far as the hospital stay went, and each look at his skin put them a step closer to freedom.

  Over the next hour, as the meds kicked in and the nurses did their work, Kendalee, who was getting used to the rawness of skin grafts and pinkness of new skin, put her squeamishness to the side to watch and learn. She made a mental note to talk with one of the nurses later, to understand exactly what it had taken to train to do this job. There were a lot of barriers to retraining as a nurse: expenses, Daniel’s on-going care, tuition. But the idea of helping other families through what she was going through kept growing.

  Even as it killed her to listen to Daniel’s murmurs and moans, his skin was clearly looking much better. The doctor had assured her that medication was strong enough that he shouldn’t feel pain, but there was often a mental discomfort that came with the whole procedure. Viewing his skin so brutally ravaged left him terrified about what his life was going to be like after.

  Exhausted once it was over, Daniel fell fast asleep. Kendalee quickly changed out of the yoga pants and sweatshirt in which she slept at the hospital and put on shorts and a T-shirt. She threw her hair into a ponytail and brushed her teeth, her only concessions to grooming.

  She took a moment to grab her wallet and phone and hurried downstairs, deciding to head out of the hospital to grab coffee and breakfast. As soon as she pushed the doors to the hospital wide open, she felt better. Warm early morning sunshine touched her skin, and a gentle breeze teased the loose bits of hair that framed her face.

  Her phone rang and she noticed her the five-percent battery level. She’d left her charger at Elliott’s and was attempting to conserve power. Whoever wanted her better be quick. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Ms. Walker?”

  Kendalee did another quick take at the screen before bringing it back to her ear. Private Number. It was probably some idiot from the insurance company. “I’m sorry, who is this?” she asked, not in the mood for small talk.

  “My name is Ross Wolesley. I’m a family law practitioner, but here at our offices we offer all kinds of legal assistance. Your friend, Elliott Dawson, has retained my services on your behalf to assist you with your ongoing family issues, if I can be of service.”

  Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. They seemed to come so quickly these days. The idea of a lawyer to help figure everything out, to help her identify if she had any claims on the company she’d helped Adrian build, or to assist with the on-going investigation into the house fire would be wonderful, but beyond her means.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” she said, incredulous that Elliott would do this without speaking to her first. Speaking to a lawyer had been one of the top things on her list once she had the money to pay someone.

  “Ross. Ross Wolesley. We have an office over on Queen Street.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Wolesley, but I’m afraid there has been some mistake. I do need a lawyer, but I don’t have the financial means to pay for one right now.” She felt her cheeks heat at the statement. Disclosing how close to the bottom she was felt incredibly humiliating.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t explain that very well at all. Mr. Dawson has already paid a retainer for well over the fees we predicted for the case. I think he just wanted to make sure you were covered.”

  Elliott had paid for her? Oh, lord. She was in trouble.

  It was a lifeline. One she wished she were financially secure enough to refuse. But she wasn’t stupid, she needed legal help badly. And she wasn’t too proud to admit it.

  It was a truly thoughtful, if not expensive, gesture on Elliott’s part. Of all the things the man could do for her, this was by far the most necessary. She had a long list of legal questions that needed answering. Like could she hold the store from which Daniel had bought the lighter fuel accountable for selling to a minor? Was what the insurance company doing by withholding their payout legal? And what would it take to divorce Adrian?

  “Wow.” Yes, she was officially speechless.

  “Would you be able to come in one day this week so we can assess your needs?” Ross asked, breaking through the litany of questions filling her head.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

  They made their arrangements and Kendalee hung up the phone feeling lighter than she had in weeks. Action always made her feel better, but she’d been stuck without any real means or incentive to mov
e.

  “Kendalee.”

  She turned in the direction of her name, and her stomach sank. “Father,” she said as Father McLennan approached her. The elderly priest was in a black short-sleeved shirt and white collar.

  “Oh, Kendalee. I’m delighted to see you. I was by to see another patient, and I saw you from the window. I wondered how you were doing.” He took one of her hands in his gnarled fingers. They were cool and slightly clammy. “We have missed you at church.”

  She tried to ignore the stabbing guilt she felt at his words. They both knew he had called her cell phone, leaving messages with offers to come to visit and informing her when the congregation had prayed for them all. She wished she could feel even the slightest vibe of judgment coming from him about her actions that would make it easier to mumble some brief platitude and head on her way. But there was none.

  “Thank you, Father,” she said. “But being here is a full-time job.”

  “Well, I’m here now, and you are too. Would it help for us to sit and pray a moment? Or if that isn’t in your sphere of comfort right now, we can just chat.” He pointed toward an empty bench on the street. “Or we can walk, if that is what you were about to do.”

  Her feet stuck to the ground, as her words stuck in her throat. Father McLennan took her hand and placed it over his arm, like in an old-school movie. He started to walk, and for reasons she couldn’t quite understand, she began to follow.

  “You know,” Father McLennan said, “it would be very abnormal of you to not be angry at God.”

  Kendalee swallowed deeply but remained silent. Something about Father McLennan’s presence soothed her, as it had when she’d apparently begun to scream during her baptism through to when she’d prepared for the sanctity of first communion. Heck, the priest had even come to pray with her the morning of her wedding and the week Adrian had left her.

  “You see,” he continued in his Irish lilt, “it’s always been a difficult reality to embrace that God never sends us more than we are capable of handling. Especially when what we receive can often be heartbreakingly painful.”