4. Elsie

CHAPTER 4

Elsie

SIX YEARS AGO

“ E ls, I don’t care!” My brother David sighs in irritation as we continue down the road back into town. “You should’ve never gone to that party alone.”

“I’m an adult,” I hum in annoyance, though I know he’s right, the moment I got there I was ready to go. Everyone was having sex with everyone and the drugs were everywhere. I called David the second I saw some guy I didn’t know slip something in my drink. I left and started walking until David got to me. “But you’re right, I should… David?” I pat his arm and point to the other side of the highway. “Is that Grant’s motorcycle?” I adjust my glasses. It’s hard to see in the dark but I swear that’s his custom green paint job gleaming under the street light.

“Fuck, it is.” David pulls over and whips open his truck door. “Stay put unless I yell for you.” I nod as he runs through the median and to the furthest lane.

Leaning over the center console, I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I watch my brother try to move the fallen motorcycle off our friend. I hear Grant’s painful scream from here and it churns my stomach. He must be badly injured. I hurry and pull out my cell phone, dialing 911. I listen to it ring while watching as David lets go and backs away.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The male voice on the other end grabs my attention.

“Y-Yeah, there’s been an accident, northbound on I-27, the man is trapped under his motorcycle. By mile marker 198.” The guy says something, but lights in the distance distract me. I look from David—who is running backward while yelling something at Grant—to the lights… the lights of a semi.

“Oh no,” I breathe, frantically trying to rip my seatbelt off.

“Ma’am?”

“No! DAVID!” I scream while blaring the horn. David turns to look at me as the semi hits. “No! OH GOD!” I shriek as I get out of the car and run through the median. I try to go to David but the trucker is holding me back, his body shaking.

“Darling, you can’t see this, stay back.” I don’t know what keeps me from fighting him, but I stumble again and head over to Grant.

“What… happened?” he wheezes through his helmet. I look at his leg pinned under his bike and let out a whimper. It looks so bad, and I can’t tell if the dark wet spots I see are his blood or fluid from the motorcycle.

“Grant.” I glance up to see my brother’s motionless feet on the road in front of the truck. “He… The truck hit him. H—He’s…” His shaky, icy hand covers mine and gives me the weakest squeeze.

“Shhh… Listen, sweetheart, it’s going to be okay.” His words are slurred and faint as he tries to speak. I look at the blood he’s losing and choke on a sob. Both of them are going to leave me. I’m going to be left alone. I can’t do this, I can—

“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling me to his chest like he used to when my dad would yell or hit me. The difference this time is his once strong heartbeat is now so shallow. “Atta girl.” His hand goes into my hair as he holds me to him. “How many—” He wheezes as he tries to speak. “How many teeth are on my zipper?” I look at his pretty blue eyes as they begin to roll and I want to take his helmet off. I want to but I don’t—he could have a spine injury and I shouldn’t even be touching him right now, let alone moving his neck.

“Grant please,” I beg through my sobs. “Please, please, please. I can’t lose the only two men I’ve ever loved at the same time. Please. You can’t leave me. I’ll never fucking forgive you.”

“Count, sweetheart.” His hand grips my hair as I lay back on his chest, listening as the sirens sound off in the distance.

“One, two, three…”

Present

T he ding of the bell pulls me from my thoughts as I look up and see Lance, a foreman who works for Grant. He’s a nice guy, big and broad with a warm smile, dark skin and kind eyes. It’s always a treat when he comes in—mainly because he likes my fun new pastries.

“Ellie.” His voice booms through the shop. “When are you going to stop playing hard to get and marry me?” Oh, and he’s a shameless flirt. I blush and giggle while staring up at him. “I’m pretty sure your hubby might have a problem with that.”

Lance rolls his eyes as he leans on the counter. “Listen, I’ll leave him in a heartbeat if I can get you to move in and start making me breakfast.” I laugh lightly as the bell rings again. I turn to greet the customer, only to see it’s Grant. I haven’t seen him since I took him home two days ago when he shouted at me to leave him alone. It’s not the first time he’s said that to me. It’s the second, actually. The first was in the hospital after he was in recovery. They had to amputate his leg above the knee, and with the trauma and blood loss, they didn’t expect him to live. David was dead the second the truck hit him—thankfully. They said he didn’t suffer, he probably hadn’t even registered the hit. It’s just Grant and I who had to live with the memory.

“Oh.” Lance straightens up and smirks at Grant. “Hey, Boss, I could’ve grabbed you something.” Grant waves him off.

“It’s fine, I needed to talk to Elsie anyway.” Oh god, why?

Lance must sense the awkwardness because he asks for a simple order and leaves with the shortest goodbye we’ve ever had.

“Good Morning, Grant,” I state crisply while grabbing a cup. “Black coffee, no extras, no happiness—right?” I all but shove the plain white cup in his hands.

“Els, can we talk for a second?” I shake my head before turning around to restock my cups.

“Sorry, I’m busy and I have to get ready to head to the square to meet with some potential vendors.”

“Well, I’m your partner—why didn’t you tell me so I could go?” I let out a loud sigh before glaring at him, which is hard to do in these stupid contacts, but the last guy I went out with said my glasses gave me a nerdy mom look. I don’t really know what that means but I’m assuming since I never heard from him again, it must not be a good thing.

“Well gee, Grant, maybe it’s because I finally fucking got it and I’m leaving you alone.” I rip my apron off before storming to the back of the shop where I’ve turned the small break area into a bedroom.

“Elsie, would you just—” His voice trails off when he sees the room. “Are you… Els come on, you can’t be living here like this.”

“It’s fine.” I pop my knuckles as I feel the walls closing in on me.

“Elsie, listen—”

“No!” I shout, hitting his chest. “You’re not the only one who lost someone that night, Grant! So fuck you for being so damn selfish!”

“I’m being selfish?” he says as though offended. “I know he was your brother, but he was all I had too, Elsie, and it’s not fair that you think the way I deal with that loss is wrong. I don’t go to you and tell you that you need to take off your mask.”

“I’m not wearing a mask!”

“Ohh, you’re wearing a mask,” he huffs out. “Little Miss Ellie all rainbows and sunshine. Please. It’s completely fake.”

“I am happy!” I shout, shoving him out of the way so I can storm around him and walk back to the main area.

“Oh yeah, you’re the epitome of happiness!”

“Rather that than be the human version of the grumpy cat meme.”

“I don’t know what that even means,” he hisses back and I roll my eyes before crying in frustration as my contact falls out.

“Damn it!”

“What’s wrong?” he asks as I close my eye so I can see him clearer.

“My contact fell out,” I groan loudly. “It was my last pair.”

“Why do you wear them if they’re so uncomfortable?” he asks as I walk to the employee bathroom to remove the other contact. Once it’s out, I put my thick rimmed glasses on and come back out.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway, I gotta go.”

“Els—”

“What, Grant?” I snap, feeling overwhelmed. Why can’t he just leave me alone? He wanted me to fuck off—I fucked off! Why is he here now talking to me in that sweet way like he did during the accident? I don’t want it!

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings the other day.” He shifts uncomfortably while rubbing the back of his neck. “Really, I just…”

“Save it,” I breathe out while releasing the frustration. “I get it, I came into your house and became overwhelming, I deserved it. But please, can we just drop this because I really do have a meeting at the square to meet a potential vendor.” His brows furrow while he looks at me as if he doesn’t believe me but he straightens and gives me a nod.

“Alright, I’ll drive you.” I open my mouth to argue but I know there’s no point, so I smile and nod while following him out to his truck. I walk to the passenger side and pause as my hand reaches for the handle on the door. Taking a breath, I open the door and see the black marker on the floorboard where I had drawn a flower to piss David off, when this was his truck.

“You alright?” Grant asks from the driver’s seat. I can’t get in there. I can’t get in this truck, and yet Grant can’t walk to the square, his leg is probably still hurting from the other day and there’s a thick blanket of snow on the ground.

“I’ll meet you there,” I manage to get out as I back away from the truck and start walking. I hear Grant cussing and yelling at me to turn around but I ignore him as I continue to walk through the snow-covered town while trying to calm my thoughts.

“DAVID!”

I flinch at the voice in my head— my voice— screaming for my big brother in that truck.

“Don’t do this Elsie,” I whisper to myself. “You’re stronger than your grief. You’ve got this.” Looking down at my boots disappearing in the snow, I begin to count my steps—softly at first, then louder as I try to drown out my thoughts.

Okay, maybe I do wear a mask.

“ H ey!”

I flinch at Grant’s deep bark as he makes his way toward me. Once I got to the square I hid from Grant for about half an hour, hoping he would give up and leave. No such luck, apparently. I just don’t want to explain to him why I couldn’t get into the truck. I don’t want him to look at me like he did in the hospital—like he still does sometimes. I see the guilt on his handsome face and it breaks my heart. I’ve tried a couple of times to try and get him to see that it’s not his fault that David is gone, but he won’t hear it—he is content living with a world of guilt on him that he doesn’t deserve.

“Oh, hey, Grant!” I put on my best smile as he storms up to me and without breaking stride, he grabs my hand and pulls me with him around the building of the community center. Once we’re alone he whirls on me, his anger rolling off him in powerful waves.

“How fucking dare you,” he snarls, looking me up and down. “Not you, Elsie, any of these other fucks—but not you.” I furrow my brows.

“Grant, what are you talking about?”

“You left me,” he hisses and behind the rage I can see the hurt and embarrassment he’s trying to hide. “You left me in that truck, knowing I couldn’t reach you. You used this”—he gestures roughly to his prosthetic leg—“against me.”

“W-What? No, I…” Oh my god, had I? I look from his leg up to the pained expression on his face.

“Grant, I am so sorry, I didn’t think, I just…” I take an uncomfortable breath as I place my cold hand on his chest. The contact startles him. His eyes drop from mine to his chest before looking back up. “It’s his truck,” I whisper after a moment. “And I-I haven’t been in it since that night and—” My voice cracks and Grant’s anger disappears as he nods.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and I hear the guilt that I wanted to avoid. I give him a weak nod as he moves in closer. I see he’s about to stop himself but I don’t allow him. Instead, I wrap my arms around his strong waist and bury my face into his coat.

“Sweetheart,” he croaks and that name is nearly my undoing. “Els, I’m so sorry.” I shake my head before pulling back.

“I’m not upset over the truck,” I whisper while wiping the fallen tears from my cheeks. “I’m upset that I did that to you. I’m so sorry, Grant.”

Crimson floods his cheeks as he shifts uncomfortably. “It’s fine,” he states quickly.

“No, it’s not! I hurt your feelings!” This seems to embarrass him further. I remove my hand and give him an apologetic smile. “How about we just meet the vendors. I’m sure they’re going to be less than thrilled that I’ve kept them waiting.”

He studies me for a moment before nodding. “You know, they’re only here to suck the happiness and joy out of you, right?”

I gently elbow him in his side. “Well, luckily my happiness is a mask, right?”

I ’m going to have to quit.

As I sit here, listening for the thirtieth time about why a vendor should be getting a coveted front booth at the market, all I can think is—I’m not made to tell people no. Today is just a small meeting of a few repeat vendors. I have to do this again, multiple times, and if I gave everyone a front spot who has asked today alone, I would’ve been telling people no thirty minutes ago.

“Els?” Grant’s voice is a soft whisper that pulls me back into reality. I look at him as he sits next to me at the table. I must have a save me expression on my face because his features harden before turning back to Michelle Lyons of Lyon’s Quilts and giving her a curt nod. “We’ll be in touch,” he states and Michelle huffs indignantly while shaking her head. I notice her short bob doesn’t sway the slightest as she does so. I wonder how much hairspray she uses to turn her hair into a literal helmet.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes narrow. “Lyon’s Quilts has been a first booth staple for fifteen years! You can’t possibl—”

“I’m not possibly doing anything,” Grant says calmly and I jump as I feel his hand grip mine under the table. He runs his thumb over my knuckles and—ow, they’re tender. How long have I been trying to crack my knuckles? “I’m telling you we’ll be in touch. We haven’t met with all the clients yet and haven’t made decisions on vendor placement.” Michelle glares at Grant and I’m about to apologize when his grip tightens on my hand. “Have a great day,” his voice is firm and final as they both share a hard stare before Michelle finally blinks and storms away.

“Let’s go outside,” he whispers in my ear and I nod, following him out of the community center. Once the cool air hits my heated face, I feel like I am finally able to breathe.

“That was so intense,” I whisper, running my hands through my hair and tucking strands behind my ears.

“Are you alright?” His voice… ugh, when Grant uses that deep, soothing tone, I swear I’m melted chocolate.

“Yeah,” I squeak out as he grips my hand in his again. I look down to see him taking his gloves from his coat pocket and slipping my hands in them. “Oh! Grant you don’t have to—”

“Hush,” he mutters, going to the other hand. “I wouldn’t have to if you owned a pair of gloves,” I scoff and roll my eyes.

“You know I don’t believe in gloves.” He eyes me and I feel my cheeks redden further.

“Yes, I’m aware of your lunacy.”

“Grant,” I huff in indignation. “Gloves are a conspiracy. You buy them, wear them once and then lose one. Then you have to go and buy more gloves just so the cycle can continue. Same with socks.”

“Mhm…” he mutters while we walk down the square in a somewhat comfortable silence. As comfortable as a silence that includes me can be. I don’t handle silence very well. I never have. When I was a kid, I used to turn on my music and blast my headphones as loud as possible to drown out my dad fighting with David or Nona. Or to escape the thoughts that would creep in after he would hurt me. I still do, but now it’s not because of my abusive dad, it’s because I don’t have David, and I’m stuck with that final memory that lives on repeat in my head.

“Shit,” Grant mutters at the same time I see the handwritten sign.

Northbrook Animal Shelter Christmas Adoption

“Oh my God,” I breathe, my body vibrating. “They have puppers! I’m petting them all!” I see the apprehension on his face and give him a small smile. “You don’t have to go with me. But I’m going over there and hugging all of the dogs.”