A Thousand Letters(45)

And then again, it wasn't. Being around her sent me into a tailspin, my sense of direction lost, the horizon constantly moving. Still she called to me without saying a word.

Elliot.

My heart flinched at her name in my mind, thinking about the day before, thinking about how angry I'd been and how bad I'd been at hiding it. She hadn't forgotten about it either — she seemed smaller today, and it was my fault. I wanted to apologize, wanted to make it okay. But I kept hurting her.

The best thing I could do for her, the only way to protect her, was to keep my thoughts to myself. As if I could verbalize them anyway.

Time had burned my anger down to an aching smolder — as much as I hated seeing her with him, she wasn't mine. The takeaway: I had no rights to her, and being angry or jealous about it wouldn't change that fact. But Ben's words echoed in my thoughts. We hadn't talked, and I hadn't asked Sophie who Jack was or what he meant to her. It could be nothing. It could be everything.

The more striking thing about the moment was the overwhelming desire to be the one to make her laugh. I wanted to be the one to touch her back with possession. But the world in which that possibility existed seemed like fiction, so far beyond me, so far out of my reach.

Futility. That was the thing I felt the most.

I trotted up the stairs and set the first tree under the window in the living room, and Ben headed down to grab another. I followed, finding him waiting for me, standing in the middle of the space with an accusatory look on his face.

"Tell me you're going to talk to her."

I moved past him and picked up another box. "I don't know, Ben," I answered impatiently.

"Because that was ridiculous. You two aren't fooling anyone into believing that you don't care that the other one's in the room." He stepped in front of me as I tried to pass him. "You didn't ask Sophie, did you?"

"No, I didn't." I sidestepped him, but he blocked me again.

"Wade, you have to talk to her."

"Ben, it's no use."

He still wouldn't let me pass. "You have to at least try."

My teeth clenched and released as I put the box down, since I'd clearly not be leaving until I heard him out. But I didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't have to. "And say what?"

"You could start by apologizing."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Who says I need to apologize?"

"You're telling me you were the picture of politeness when you got Shanghai'd yesterday? Because if I'm going by her body language, I'd say you weren't pleasant."

I scowled at him.

"That's what I thought. Just talk to her. You don't have to profess your undying love, but an apology might be a good place to start."

I just stood there, scowling.

"Maybe it's nothing. Maybe that guy's nobody."

I still didn't budge.

"I'm serious." He kept going, wanting me to argue, but I could see I was wearing him down. "I mean, the tension between you two takes the temperature in the room down thirty degrees." He paused, waiting. Then, he sighed. "Do it for your dad then, if not for yourself. You wouldn't want your dad to be cold, would you?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you done?"

He rolled his eyes and moved for another tree. "Yeah, I'm done."

"Good," I said as I picked up my box and headed back up the stairs.

As I hauled the unwieldy boxes up the stairs one by one, I acknowledged that he wasn't wrong. I also acknowledged that an apology — one which I owed her — might make her feel better, safer. When I considered apologizing for her, not for myself, I thought I might be able to do it. I longed for the hope I'd felt in bursts, wishing I could just hang on to it for a moment, wishing I could find a way to keep it.

I walked in with my last box to find Elliot struggling with the big bottom section of a tree. It hung on the box flap as she lifted it with all her strength and weight, and I set my box down, moving to her side. I took it from her, lifting it easily, and she blushed up at me, the expression hitting me in the heart — it wasn't longing I found in her face. It was regret.

"Thanks," she said softly.

"You're welcome." I moved to the base, placing it in the slot, and she began fluffing the branches as I watched, wondering if now was the time to speak or if I should wait. Uncertainty gripped me, fear skimming the edges. Just jump.

I opened my mouth to speak.

"What are you guys scheming?" Dad called from the library just down the hall.

Sophie smiled, shooting me a glance as she grabbed Sadie as she left the room. "Nothing, Dad. Need company?"

Ben set the last tree down next to the others and hung his hands on his hips, assessing the room. "I think we're going to need some coffee for this. I'll put a pot on."

And with a scheming smile, he left me there alone with Elliot.

She arranged the bottom branches as I reached into the box for the middle piece of the tree, popping it into the bottom piece with a snap, not knowing what to say, not sure how to broach anything with her anymore. There used to be a time when I could tell her anything. I wondered if I would ever know that trust again, and the thought gave me hope, the elusive, shimmering notion I wanted to feel so badly.