Breathe for Me(38)

“Chelsea.”

She felt Helen’s hand touch her knee.

“I’ve read the police reports,” the older woman said. “I know he was going too fast—not crazily, but over the limit. And I know it was raining and that the road was even more slippery because a truck ahead of you had spilt some fuel. There were several factors at work that night.”

Chelsea knew all that too, but none of those things had been the primary factor. She had. “If I hadn’t distracted him.”

“He could still have veered.”

Chelsea shook her head. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand that he was so happy with you. He died happy.” Helen said firmly. “I still have that voice message you guys left when you were at the restaurant—the one telling us you’d just gotten engaged. That’s the last thing he said to me—how happy he was. He was so excited. And that was because of you.”

Chelsea covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

The other woman wrapped her arms around her. “You loved him the way any mother wants her son to be loved. Wholly. That’s all I could ever want. I know he died happy—that brings me such comfort. It should to you too.”

Chelsea couldn’t speak anymore. Couldn’t.

“You poor thing. You’ve been feeling guilty all this time?” Helen sighed as she rubbed Chelsea’s back. “Of course you have. You’re sweet, Chelsea. Don’t shut away that warm heart. Love again. Love well. Live.”

Chelsea finally lifted her head and looked into the hazel eyes that reminded her so much of Tom’s. “You forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Helen gave her a watery smile. “You tried so hard to save him. I know how much you loved him. So did he. I thank you for making my son so happy.” Tears trickled down her face. “He would want you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you beating yourself up, or not following through on things because of what happened. Let it go.”

She’d repeated words that Xander had said. That others had said before him. That Chelsea understood, but was still struggling to believe.

“He’d want you to be happy,” Helen added. “Just as you’d want him to be happy if your positions were reversed.”

Oh she would. She’d want him to have it all. Chelsea sighed deeply then slipped the ring off her finger and held it out. “You should have this.”

“No.” Helen shook her head. “He gave it to you. He loved you.” She reached out and curled Chelsea’s fingers around the ring, locking it into her fist. “But perhaps it’s time to put it on the other hand.”

“Thank you.” Chelsea whispered.

She’d never forget. But perhaps she could find solace. And maybe she could fix up some of the mistakes she’d made.

She went back to the small hotel she’d booked into, walked straight into the bathroom and flicked on the taps. She didn’t add bubbles or any scent. But she undressed, watching the water rise in the bath until it was deep. She dipped the tip of her fingers in to test the temperature.

Warm.

She drew a breath, released it and then breathed in again. Regularly counting, she kept breathing. Time to let it go. She had courage, right?

She put one foot in the water, refusing to act on the instinct that would see her pull out again in a heartbeat. She stepped the other foot in so she stood in the water. It came to just below her knees. She’d never forget those moments that cold, wet night almost two years ago. But maybe she could accept them.

“I’ll always love you, Tom,” she whispered. “You’ll always be in my heart.” He’d been her first love, a wonderful love. She’d been so lucky to have him. Because of him she knew how to love. “But there’s more room in there. More I need.” She drew a breath. “More I want. And I know that’s okay. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

He’d loved her. He’d want her to be happy—just as she would him. Because she had loved him so very much.

She sank right into the water, lying back and closing her eyes. It was so warm and so scary but at the same time, so good. She’d missed it so much. She’d always loved swimming. When she was little her mother had told her she had a few drops of mermaid in her. She’d dived and played in the local pool for hours and hours. She’d swum in a junior varsity swim team—until schoolwork became too much and she’d had to concentrate more on her studies. But swimming was her thing. Anything on or in the water. But she’d gotten so afraid. Associated it with those terrifying minutes.

The water washed away her tears the moment they left her eyes. She surfaced and took a deep breath. She thought about Tom. Remembered when she’d frantically dived for him. But he’d gone and he wasn’t coming back. And her life had to go on.

She rested her head on the edge of the bath and looked out the window at the vibrant blue sky. Her thoughts switched to that beautiful pool on top of the apartment building. To the color of the water at the polo pool. To Xander. The last knots of tension in her muscles eased.

Her heart still hurt, but maybe, just maybe it was starting to heal. Because it wanted to love again. She’d been such a fool about Xander. He’d asked her time and time again—what was in her head, what she wanted. Maybe it wasn’t just a line, he’d really wanted to know. Because she’d wanted to know about him too and she’d wanted to know because she was beginning to care for him.

But now she wondered what more she thought she needed to know when his actions told her all she needed. That he was loyal, strong, compassionate. That he was kind and good-humored. That he’d always try to help someone out. Why did she think she needed him to spill all his personal details like he was a can of beans? She already knew the kind of person he was from the way he treated her, the way he treated his friends. With kindness, loyalty and humor.

He was the kind of person she wanted to be with.

And he, like she, liked to play. He wanted a playmate. What was it he’d said to that old lady the night the alarm had gone off at the apartment?

“I like a woman who stands up to me.”

She finally got it. He mightn’t admit it, but he wanted a match—someone who could equal him. And he’d told her not to be afraid of expressing what she wanted.

“You can tell me anything. Ask me anything.”

And he was right.

But he was also wrong. Her fear of asking hadn’t just been about sex. Not about the bedroom games and light fantasies. It was about putting herself out there and possibly being hurt again. Being rejected. Losing someone you cared about.

Had she really thought that if she didn’t fully engage she wouldn’t care so much? That she could ‘manage’ her emotions somehow? What a fool. Because he’d fully engaged her emotions anyway. It hadn’t just been about pleasing him, she’d been so into him.

She wanted to give to him, because he’d given to her—support, companionship, he’d listened, he’d pleased. And even though he might not want it forever or anything, she owed it to him to be honest. Emotionally honest and open.

And do what they both truly wanted.





Chapter Twenty-One





“Someone’s grumpy.” Logan laughed at him from the other side of the pool table.

“Shut it.”

“You not getting any lately?”

Xander didn’t answer.

“Well, why don’t you find someone else? Plenty of women around here who’d do anything you wanted them to,” Logan said, bitterness rasping.

Xander didn’t want any of them. Damn it. “Shut up.”

“You’re so pissy. Why don’t you take your mood home and spare the rest of us who are ready to party?”

Xander rolled his eyes. The rest of ‘us’ was only Logan. Hunter was away, Rocco was here but technically working. Xander might as well leave. He’d been here for two hours already and not left the table once. Hadn’t bothered to look anyone in the eye. “You’re going to get in real trouble sometime, Logan.”

Logan just laughed and kept assessing the women in the room.

Rocco’s bar was pumping—the place filled with beauties who were up for it. But Xander was sitting in the far corner by the pool table, trying to swallow back the bitter irony. He’d told Chelsea this would end if she developed feelings for him. But more fool him, for he was the one getting all sappy just because they’d been having sex. Often.

And that was his problem tonight, right? She’d gone away and he was missing it. The sex that is. Not her.

Wrong. It was all her. Calling in to see her for five minutes when he had the chance wasn’t for sex. It was to see her. His need to understand and help her out over her nightmares wasn’t because he’d come over all good Samaritan. It was for her. Because he liked her.