by Monica Cole
“I’m not leaving,” I say defiantly. “And if you’re going to talk to them about the results, you sure as hell can tell me to.”
“Elle.”
I shoot Canyon a look to shut the hell up.
“Elaine, this is not up for discussion,” my mom snaps from the other side of the bed.
“Why not? Why can I not know my brother’s test results? I’m gone two years and suddenly I’m not a part of this family anymore?” I’m crying hard now, and I’m sure I look completely insane.
“Mom,” Parker says tiredly, shaking his head, “maybe you should…”
“No.” She barks, her expression frightening. She looks equal parts angry and terrified. “Canyon, I need you to take Elaine home.”
Helplessly, I look at Parker for support, but I can tell he’s not going to take my side. Without another word, I get up and storm out of the room, too upset to care if Canyon is behind me. By the time I reach the elevator I’m shaking uncontrollably, barely able to see past the tears. Canyon stands beside me but this time, he doesn’t touch me. We drive home with the windows down, and I’m thankful he hasn’t tried talking to me. He was always good at that. Knowing when to say something and when to be quiet. By the time we reach the house I’ve stopped crying, and the summer heat has dried the tears on my face in sticky streaks.
Canyon walks me to the door again, unlocks it, and follows me inside.
“Are you not leaving?” I kick my shoes off, slamming them against the wall.
He stares at me from where he’s leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “Only if you want me to.”
His vague answer pisses me off. I don’t want him here, but at the same time, I do. I want him to stay because I don’t want to be alone, but I refuse to admit that. Admit that I need him. Or worse that I want him.
“Do whatever you want,” I answer just as vaguely. “But I’m going to my room. I need to change.”
I go to my room, not bothering to shut the door while I put on my cat panties and a pair of shorts and t-shirt. I slip on my house shoes, twisting my damp hair into a bun on my way to the living room. I’m expecting Canyon to be gone but I’m not too disappointed to find him still here, sitting on the sofa flipping through channels on the TV. He’s wearing different clothes which means he’s probably wearing something of Parker’s. I sit beside him, curling my legs underneath me. He settles on a show I’ve never seen before but it’s funny enough. We watch an entire episode before I ask, “What did you and your dad talk about when you left the room?”
He grabs the remote and turns down the volume so it’s barely audible. “He was wondering why I brought you to the hospital. Apparently he overheard your mom saying that you shouldn’t come. He was mad that I didn’t listen.”
“It’s not your fault that I wanted you to take me. I would have gone whether you had taken me or not.”
He doesn’t say anything. The show starts again and he turns it back up, seeming engrossed in it.
“Did he say anything about Parker?” I ask, unable to quench my curiosity. I feel like I’m going crazy not knowing anything.
“Technically he’s not allowed to, so no. He didn’t say anything.”
I sigh. “Okay, but why couldn’t he tell me? Why was everyone so against me seeing the results?”
Canyon licks his lips, looking about as clueless as I am. “I don’t know, Elle. Parker is the patient. Technically the hospital can’t disclose information without his consent. Even to family.”
“I still don’t get why Parker would care if I know or not. He’s never kept anything from me,” I whisper.
I blink back tears. Drop my head to my knees and take a deep breath that doesn’t quite fill my lungs. The couch shifts, and I feel Canyon move closer. I lift my head and find him sitting in front of me, his knees touching the side of my leg, his arm wrapped around the back of the couch. He smells like summer and rain and it only makes me want to move closer. Instead, I keep my arms secured tightly around my legs to keep myself from touching him.
“I know you’re worried, Elle, but you have to trust that Parker is going to be alright. Your mom wouldn’t have sent you home if something was really wrong. Neither would my dad.”
I squeeze my eyes, wishing the tears would stop. “I’m scared, Canyon.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m scared something’s going to happen again, and I won’t be able to help him.”
Before I know what he’s doing, he scoops me up and places me gently in his lap. I cradle my head against his neck, sobs racking through my body. I feel like I’m about to combust. Shatter into a thousand pieces that I’ll never be able to put back together. I haven’t hurt this much in a long time and I wonder if I’ll survive it again. Canyon rubs small circles up and down my back and the next thing I know I feel calm. Like all my insides have been hollowed out. I have my nose pressed against his neck, his five o'clock shadow rough against my cheek. His hand moves lower and lower until he swirls his fingers along the small of my back. I involuntarily press into him and he tenses. A small breath escapes my mouth, heat spreading across his skin and my lips. We both grow still, and I can feel his heart accelerate from slow and rhythmic to fast and sporadic. Without thinking, I press my mouth against his neck, tentatively, just a brush of my lips.
I pull away and look at him. There’s so much written on his face. So much that it’s impossible to read it all.
“Canyon,” I breathe, dropping my forehead against his. He wraps his hands around my waist. “Kiss me.”
My words scare me. How easily I can say them. What happened in the car was a mistake. Asking him to kiss me again is a disaster. I want this to feel wrong but it doesn’t. It feels right, and when I’m with Canyon, the pain seems a little more bearable. Like it isn’t eating me alive. When he doesn’t make a move, I lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth. His body tenses beneath mine, but when I kiss him again and he doesn’t protest, I know in this moment, we’re both weak. Needing something we’re too stubborn to admit out loud.
Our mouths start to move but this isn’t like the kiss in his truck. This is slow and precise, like we’re trying to erase all pain corroded on our hearts. This kiss hurts, because after it’s over, everything’s still going to be the same. Canyon kisses my neck and I squeeze my eyes shut, until all I’m seeing are millions of tiny stars. His hands slip under my shirt, searing against my cold skin. But he hesitates. And I know what’s coming before he even pulls away because he’s been this reluctant before.
“Canyon, don’t stop.” My voice isn’t even recognizable. I’m begging again and the sad part is, I don’t even care. That we’re beyond the point of blurring lines or that we’re two seconds away from complicating things so much, I’m not sure if they’ll be fixable later on. He bows his head and lets out a slow exhale before meeting my gaze. There’s remorse in his eyes, along with guilt and lust and some other word that starts with ‘l’ that I’m not willing to acknowledge.
“Elle, we need to stop,” he says resolutely, but it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than me. “We’re manipulating feelings, and I know what’s going to happen. You’re going to run. You’re going to shut me out, and I don’t want that to happen.”
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure what I can say other than he’s right. I’m already thinking about escaping to my room because I know I screwed up kissing him. Not once, but twice. When did I get so dumb?
“Look at me.” He drags his thumb down my cheek, using it to push a piece of hair off my face. I lock my eyes on the ceiling.
“Fuck, Elle, would you stop being so damn stubborn? I’m trying to talk to you. I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on between us, because we can’t keep running in circles like this.”
He sounds so angry, but I can’t look at him. If I do, I might give in to all the words stirring restlessly in my heart. Things I’ve wanted to say to him for such a long time. With an irritated breath, he pu
shes me off, adjusting his shirt as he walks around the couch and grabs his shoes by the door. I sit up slowly, and he turns to face me right as the tears start to fall.
“Talk to me,” he says, his tone pleading and exhausted. “I know I screwed up in the past, and I know it’s hard for you to trust me. But I’m trying to make things right. I still care about you, Elle, and as much as you try to hide it, you still care about me too. But I don’t know what the hell we’re supposed to do about those feelings if you keep shutting me out.”
“I’m not the only one shutting people out, Canyon!” I shout angrily. “I’m not the only one doubting my feelings because god knows you’ve done that enough. Maybe you forgot, but you’re the one who hurt me. You’re the one still keeping secrets, because you’re too big of a coward to tell me to my face. You let me walk away, like everything we had meant nothing to you. So yes, I’m shutting you out, because I’m terrified of you. I’m terrified of how much I still care about you when I feel like I should hate your guts. Do you think I can just forget what you did and move on, when you can’t even be honest enough to tell me what happened between us in the first place? I’m running from our past, Canyon. And if you’re the one who destroyed that, what makes you think you can build me a future?”
He drags a hand through his hair, pacing around, looking like he’s about to ram a fist through the wall. Finally he stops. A look in his brown eyes I remember seeing only one other time. The night he broke my heart. I hold my breath, positive that he’s about to say something. That he’s about to tell me what he’s been hiding. The reason he let me walk away. But his confession never comes, and I can feel the tears starting all over again. Blurring him from my vision, and I’m starting to wish it was that easy to blur him from my heart.
“Forget it,” I choke out. I stumble around the couch, barely able to stand as I push past him to my room. I slam the door and two seconds later, he does the same, the sound echoing off the walls of this empty house I wish I’d never come back to.
Chapter Fourteen
Past
April 27, 2013
Prom night.
I stare at the date on my calendar circled in red ink. Canyon wrote it there weeks ago when he told me we’re going. Told as in, he didn’t ask. I told him he’s crazy if he thought I was going to senior prom, and he told me I was crazy if I thought he wouldn’t drag me there. He would. Just like he dragged me to the mall to pick out my dress. I’m not against the idea of prom, at least not entirely. I’m just against the dancing. I don’t dance, and Canyon knows this. But he said my argument is invalid because whether I dance or not, I need to experience senior prom. That it’s like a life milestone or something. I just see it as another unnecessary hurdle to get to the finish line that is graduation.
There’s a knock on the front door, and my heart lurches to my throat. I can distinctly make out Canyon’s voice as he talks to mom, and my heart climbs higher and higher until I think it’s going to come flying out of my mouth.
Prom.
The word echoes in my brain.
I feel sick.
And I really don’t need to get sick, because I’m already dressed.
I look at myself in the full length mirror behind the door. My dress is pretty. Black and strapless with a full skirt that looks shear and sparkly. My hair is curled and hanging down my back and my make-up is simple because I didn’t want to risk messing it up. I feel more awkward than pretty, like I’m about to step into a world I don’t belong in, and I’m fighting the urge to walk out there and tell Canyon I can’t do this.
But then someone knocks on my door and my brain short circuits. I swallow my heart back to my chest and move across the room, pressing my mouth against the door.
“Who is it?”
“Who do you think it is?” Canyon answers. The knob jiggles, and I double check to make sure it’s locked.
“Elle, come on. Open up. We gotta go.”
I rest my head against the door. “I can’t do this, Canyon. I’m nervous and my dress looks stupid.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“How would you know? You can’t even see me.”
“Why don’t you come out here and show me then?”
“Nice try.”
He sighs. “Elle, seriously. We need to go and your mom wants pictures.”
Pictures? He didn’t say anything about pictures.
“Elle,” he sounds impatient now, “either open the door or I’m breaking it down.”
“No you won’t.”
“Helen!” He yells, and I think it busts an eardrum. “Can I break down Elle’s door?”
There’s a pause, and I think I hear mom answer.
“She said yes. So what’s it gunna be?”
I let out a groan of defeat. “Fine. I’m unlocking it.”
I twist the latch and quickly spin around. He opens the door, and my heart is all over the place but nothing compared to when I hear the door softly click shut. I take a deep breath, but my dress is too tight. He’s quiet, and I wish he would say something. Seconds pass before I can sense him behind me. He exhales, and I shiver at his hot breath between my shoulder blades. His hand on my waist. I stiffen but don’t move as he pushes my hair over my shoulder and leans in, his chest pressed to my back and his mouth close to my ear.
“This dress….” he trails off, and I’m holding my breath waiting for what he’s going to say next. He trails a finger down the center of my spine, and I expel every ounce of air in my lungs. “This dress definitely does not look stupid,” he says. He drops my hair and steps away. My legs are shaking. My stomach in knots. The way he just touched me….
“Now that we’ve settled that, do you mind turning around?”
I stare at the wall, my eyes wide. I want to turn around. I do. I want to see what he looks like because as much as I don’t want to do this prom thing, I haven’t been able to stop imagining what he looks like in a tux. I take a few small breaths, all my dress will allow, and hold my head high. I turn slowly, catching my reflection in the mirror before I face him.
Wow.
Canyon in a tux…
Wow.
That’s the only word left in my vocabulary as I stare at him. I swallow hard as his brown eyes take me in. Inch by inch. So slow that I’m starting to think he might stare at me forever. Finally I clear my throat. He looks up and my mouth parts. His eyes are dark, clouded, and heavy. But there’s something gleaming in them. Something I can’t put my finger on. I do know that it scares me. But it also makes me want to do something as crazy as jump across the room and kiss him.
I look away, banishing the thought from my mind. I’ve already been through this dozens of times. The sad part is that I have to remind myself on a daily basis that kissing Canyon is against the rules of our friendship. That it’s dangerous and stupid and something that I’m absolutely, under no circumstances supposed to do.
“Are we going to do this or what?” I ask him. He’s just staring at me, and it’s only making me more nervous.
He steps towards me and curls his fingers around mine. “I thought you were nervous?” he asks, clearly teasing.
“I am. But I also don’t want to stand around my room all night.” I pull my hand away and step around him. I can feel his eyes on me as I leave the room. Mom is in the living room, looking frustrated as she inspects the camera. I fully expect her to freak out when she sees me, but she just shoves the camera at Canyon.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” She blows out a breath and puts her hands on her hips. Canyon messes with it for a minute then hands it back.
“The batteries were in the wrong way.” He smiles and mom looks flustered as she ushers us to the middle of the room.
“Okay you two. Smile.” She takes a few pictures before looking at me. “Elaine. At least try to look happy.”
I plaster on my best fake smile. Canyon pinches my side, and I slap him in the chest. He does it again and suddenly I’m fighting off real smiles by th
e dozen.
“Okay. I think I got enough.” She sets the camera on the couch and walks over to adjust Canyon’s tie. “I’m working tonight, and Parker will probably be in bed when you get home, so make sure not to wake him up.”
Canyon salutes mom and gives her a hug. Then she turns to me. She gives me a quick hug, barely tightening her arms around me. “Please be safe tonight,” she says. That’s it. No, ‘You look beautiful’ or ‘I can’t believe you’re going to prom’ or whatever it is mom’s usually freak out about their daughters doing. I nod and follow Canyon to his truck.
“Oh yea. I got something for you.” He reaches under the seat and pulls out a plastic box. Inside is a corsage with black flowers and white feathers. He reaches for my left hand and slips it on my wrist.
“Perfect.” His voice is low as he slides his thumb along my skin. He smiles, and I sink back in my seat as we drive to the high school. The next hour happens in a haze. We find Whitney as soon as we arrive, and she’s already on the dance floor. She’s here with Nash Harlan which is unfortunate because he’s a complete tool. He somehow manages to bring up the gym in every one of our conversations which is bugging the hell out of me. I’m really not sure what Whitney sees in him. Other than his ridiculously huge arms that he won’t stop talking about. Eventually Whitney and I take a bathroom break. I’m surprised when we walk into the bathroom, and it’s crammed tight with girls.
“This is so much fun,” Whitney says, stepping up to one of the mirrors. I stand against the wall because there’s not much room to stand beside her. “I can’t believe Canyon convinced you to come.” She fluffs her hair and checks her lipstick.
“He didn’t convince me,” I say. “He pretty much threatened me.”
Whitney shrugs. “Who cares? He got you to come. That makes him awesome in my book.” She turns around, eyeing me carefully.
I squirm.
“Hold on. Let me fix your hair.”
Before I can protest her hands are in my hair, raking and fluffing. I’m terrified to look.