Second Chances: The Seahaven Series - Book One (8 page)

There was nothing wrong with staying home and having babies, and I thought that I might want to do that someday, but not then. That much was crystal clear to me. But Paul was non-stop about it, and pretty soon, partly because he was feeling inadequate at work, he descended into being emotionally abusive towards me. It's hard to recognize emotional abuse in your own relationship sometimes, like what really constitutes abuse rather than just nit-picking or nagging or put-downs, but when you see it so much on a daily basis at your job the signs are easier to spot.

But I always held out hope that he would find whatever strength and confidence he needed to get back to being the way he was when we met, and that's what I kept clinging to and why I stayed. I even stayed after the Irene situation at dinner that night. It was the first time I had solid proof that something was very wrong with us.

It was after we'd all eaten, and my brother and I were alone at the restaurant table talking about customers at his coffee shop and how crazy they were. Paul had gone out front to smoke and Irene was in the bathroom.

“If I can't remember a guy's name after he's been coming in for a week, he'll stand at the register and give me hints until I get it. They want to be recognized so bad.” Cesar was laughing, drinking a beer, back when he could stop after drinking just one.

I said, “I have a lady like that who calls 9-1-1 just to hear someone say to her, 'Is that you, Mrs. Parker? Are you okay today?'”

“People want to be seen,” he said.

I looked around the table and realized Paul and Irene were still gone.

“I'm going to the bathroom. When Paul comes back tell him we should get going in about fifteen minutes,” I said. “Early morning tomorrow.”

Cesar nodded. “Coffee?” he asked.

“Decaf,” I said.

I put my napkin down and headed toward the back of the restaurant to the bathrooms. On the way I passed a private dining room with old wine bottles lining the wall. Pretty room, probably lovely for a small party. As I passed I saw a flash of red inside, and a hand. Dark hair.

I went around the bend to peek in, and inside I saw Paul and Irene pushed up against the wall together, mid-grinding kiss, his hand up her dress. I was so surprised that I let out a small cry and I stepped back, knocking into a table.

A set-up water glass fell to the stone floor and smashed into a thousand pieces, and Paul and Irene looked up and saw me.

Paul immediately came toward me, his hand outstretched to pull me in, not caring about the giant erection in his pants. Irene smoothed her skirt and her hair and walked toward me at the same time, apologizing. “Don't tell Cesar, Ellie. Please. I love him.”

I was too astonished to say anything to either of them. I turned and walked fast to the front of the restaurant, past our table, and right out the front door into the night.

I heard Paul behind me calling, “Ellie. Eleanor! Stop!”

I heard Cesar asking, confused, “Sis?”

I couldn't even think of what was soon to be my brother's pain, I could only think of mine.

I got in the car and I drove away without thinking twice or looking back.

And then, two weeks later, after much pleading and sorrowful tears and apologies from him, I went back to Paul. We saw a therapist, we read books that were supposed to make our marriage stronger, we looked each other in the eye when we were talking to each other. I tried to learn to respect him and have faith in him again, and he tried to be good. He really did try.

But his being good didn't last long.

Chapter Thirteen

After breakfast I drop my brother off at his apartment, and I ask him to give me any drugs he has so he won't be tempted.

“I don't have anything,” he says. “It was just that one time with a friend. It was his stuff.”

“Get rid of that not-a-friend,” I say. “Stay as far away from that non-friend as you can.”

He promises he will, and he hugs me.

“I'm glad you're back, Sis. It's good to have you in town. I need you, you know?” he says into my hair.

I think about how strong and happy he was when he was in the big city, when he'd finally escaped this town and left his ne'er-do-well friends and bad influences behind. But then he moved back home, guilted into it by our selfish, abusive father, and he has struggled.

I remind myself how young he still is. And that he has no mother. He needs me and I need him. I make a quick silent promise to myself that I'll be a better sister.

“Next time you pay for breakfast,” I say, turning to leave. “Call me if you need anything, I'm always around.”

“Okay,” he says. And he looks mostly happy. At least well-fed, I know that much. I'm not kidding about him paying next time. He eats like a horse.

“You be strong, mijo,” I say. “I know you can do it.”

He goes inside his apartment and I climb in my car. I check my phone. No new texts. It's getting late, close to work time. I turn the ignition on and drive towards home.

It's a beautiful time of year outside. The leaves are changing color, the air is getting crisp, the sea is churny and stormy. It makes me wonder why I spent so many years away. You know part of the reason, Ellie. Because you had a father who could make your grown brother shoot heroin to avoid the idea of being like him, then dissolve into tears in a parking lot over it. That's enough of a reason for wanting to stay away.

I'm getting closer to home when I see Matt's street. I automatically turn onto it, like a magnet drawn to metal. I drive slowly towards the beach shack and see his truck. He hasn't gone into work yet.

I close the car door behind me and take out my cellphone and call him. I climb his steps as the phone rings, and as I get to the sliding door I see him look at the screen and smile. This sends a thrilled chill through me—he's honestly happy I'm calling and is excited to hear from me.

He picks it up and says, “Hello Gorgeous, where are you?”

I tap on the glass and he turns around. I smile at him and wave. He hangs up the phone and comes to open the door.

He doesn't even say anything, he just grabs me and kisses me. I feel my phone fall out of my hand and maybe it broke or maybe it didn't, I don't even care.

“What time does your shift start?” he whispers huskily.

“Six,” I manage to say.

He picks me up, my legs around his waist, and kisses me as he carries me to his bedroom. We crawl onto the bed together, him on top of me, clothes on, all tangled up legs and tongues.

He stops kissing me and looks into my eyes. He traces my necklace of bruises lightly with his finger, then frowns and shakes his head.

“I could've killed that guy,” he says. “I wanted to. When I saw what he was doing to you I felt murderous.”

“You stopped him in time,” I say. “And Maria spit in his food, so I don't think he'll be bothering anyone ever again.” Matt laughs and I can feel it reverberate in my body.

He pushes my hair back from my forehead and smiles down at me. “God, I love you,” he says.

I feel my eyes go big and my body go rigid. What did he say?

He looks sideways and runs a hand over his face, laughing. “Did I just say that?” he says. I start to smile, I can't help it. I had no idea I wanted him to say it and now that he has I want to hear it again.

I smile into his eyes. It's amazing to me how three little words can mean so much.

“Does that scare you off?” he asks. I shake my head no. It doesn't. Nothing has ever sounded more right. I can't stop smiling. I realize I haven't said this to anyone for the first time in a long time.

“I love you, too,” I say, and I've barely said it when he kisses me like no one's ever kissed me before.

I reach down and unbutton his jeans. I pull up my dress. I still have my jacket on. I take him and put him inside me as I stare into his eyes. He moves in me, deeply, filling me. I'm on the bed, fully clothed, making love with a man who's just told me he loves me and who I'm in love with too. It's like a gift to feel this way. Like a gift and a miracle and I'm so happy I've found him.

* * *

Half an hour later my eyes open. We fell asleep!

I look at the clock and sit up fast. “We're going to be late!”

Matt rolls away and sprints for the bathroom. He cranks on the water. “Here—quick one,” he says, and we take off the clothes we had sex in and fell asleep in and both climb into the shower.

We're spinning around lathering and rinsing as fast as we can in the small space, laughing as we bump into each other. Then he stops. I blink the shampoo from my eyes and look up at him.

He takes my face in his hands and as the water rains down on us he looks into my eyes and smiles and says, “I love you,” again, and kisses me.

Chapter Fourteen

At work I'm a little bit floaty, which is not the ideal state to be in on an ambulance. Happily giddy is not the adrenaline edge I need to do my job well. Even Danny notices something's up, and he's the last person I can talk to about it.

“Why do you keep smiling?” Danny asks. “It's midnight. You should be grumpy and craving caffeine.”

I physically shake my head back and forth and exhale to get back in the game.

“I saw my brother,” I say, not exactly lying. “He had a setback but I spent some time with him and I think he's going to be okay.”

“Good, good,” says Danny, driving. “He's a good kid. I know he got in with the wrong people, that's all. He'll be okay.” He glances sideways at me. “If you ever want me to hang out with him I would do that, you know. I mean, I know your dad isn't the best guy...”

He looks at me to make sure it's okay to keep talking about my dad. He knows just enough from high school to know what we went through. I give a little nod, agreeing, which tells him it's okay to talk about it. “So if he ever wants to, I could do that.”

He's so sincere. Danny is such a great guy. “Thanks, Danny,” I say, and I mean it.

Danny has six brothers and sisters and he's right in the middle of the lineup. Big Catholic family, they've been in town forever, for something like five generations. All except one of the siblings is still here, and the one who got away got far away. To London, I think.

Danny and I met in junior year English and started out hating each other. He was a loudmouthed Lothario, or trying to be one, and put the moves on all of my friends. I made fun of him so many times for getting shot down that eventually we just started laughing about it together. And then we were friends.

Senior year, when things were really bad at my house, Cesar and I ate Thanksgiving dinner at Danny's. It was everything I thought Thanksgiving should be: a mom and a grandma who spent all day cooking a giant feast while we played football outside in the cold at the neighborhood leaves-strewn park with all his brothers and sisters, then coming inside and eating until we were stuffed and couldn't move, then more football on TV, and board games and puzzles once the dessert plates had been cleared.

Board games and puzzles. It seems so quaint, so simple, maybe even silly. But it was one of the best days of my life.

After that night, Danny got it in his head that it was me he loved, not my high school friends. And it didn't seem to be temporary like his affection for them, either. He really came after me and wouldn't give up.

I tried to love him. I mean we never even kissed, but I was so miserable at home that the thought of someone really loving me and being good to me and standing by me was enough to make me really consider being with him.

The problem was that I did love him, just not in the way he wanted me to, and because of it I couldn't lead him on or be fake with him. I couldn't just tell him what he wanted to hear. I wanted him to find the love he deserved, but I knew it couldn't be from me. And a few months later I got a scholarship to a university many miles and hours away, and that was it. I escaped Danny and I escaped my home life. I ran away.

I realize I've been selfish. Danny's been concerned about my brother, offering to help, and I haven't asked a single question about his family. Come on, Ellie, life does not revolve around you.

“How's your mom? I haven't seen her in town,” I say.

Danny sighs and shrugs. “She's okay. Getting old. My sisters keep an eye on her, they're good about it.”

I nod. “And how's Amy? Where is she now?”

“London,” says Danny. I was right. “Yeah, you two have a lot in common. Got out of here the second you could, both of you.”

“Maybe I'll go visit her,” I say, looking at my watch. “It's almost time for me to leave again.”

“Don't you dare!” says Danny, laughing. “You're stuck here now. My other sisters say she's in love with some guy over there. Picture it, a small town farmer's daughter and a fancy Englishman. It's hilarious.”

I slap him on the arm. “You're hilarious for being so dumb about it. That's what love is. No boundaries. It's not like a plane or a passport can stop it.”

He shakes his head. “You better not leave again. This town needs you.”

“That's the truth,” I say. “For such a small place there are a crazy amount of 9-1-1 calls.”

“Seriously,” says Danny. “When are they going to have a seminar on how to properly use the system?” He shakes his head. It's true, people use it for the dumbest things. For anything and everything.

“What's the craziest call you ever got at your old job?” he asks.

I think about it. There were a lot of them. But one does stand out. “All right, this one time my partner Ant and I had the late shift—”

He stops me. “Did you say 'Ant'? Like 'anteater'?”

“'Ant' like Anthony. It was a hip place. They were trying to call me 'Lee' at one point, like 'Ellie' was too long for them. They'd probably call you 'Nee'.”

He nods his head, a good sport. “I like it. Nee. Yo, I'm Nee.”

“So we got this call once about a vic who was sitting in her car in her driveway, shot in the head. We were on hyper alert, totally awake and ready, thinking okay, if this woman has been shot in her car in her driveway but can still call 9-1-1, it's going to be some crazy delicate cranial through-and-through that we're going to have to be super careful with. We called the hospital to get their neuro trauma ready before we even got to the scene.”