Most of All You: A Love Story(52)
I turned that over, putting it away to think about later. “I suppose.”
“Anyway, if you didn’t like stripping, maybe your accident will be one of those things that you look back on later as the catalyst that changed things for the better. You know, the thing that motivated you to take a different path.”
You’re going the wrong way. You must turn back, sweetness.
I stared at her, thinking about how confident she sounded, how neat and tidy her conclusions were. If you’re not happy, just make a change. No problem. Easy peasy. Those were the conclusions of someone who had never really struggled, didn’t know that it wasn’t only fists that broke you and beat you bloody—no, life itself could do that just as easily, maybe more so. She didn’t understand the soul-deep agony of loss, of being left behind, terrorized, cast out, taken advantage of. She didn’t realize that your heart could hurt so badly you just wanted to curl up inside yourself and never come out again. And yet I couldn’t resent her for that. I envied her for it.
“It wasn’t exactly an accident. Three men assaulted me.”
The knife Chloe was using clattered to the granite counter. “Oh, Ellie! That’s absolutely awful. Were they arrested?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
She looked relieved. “Oh thank goodness.” Still she shook her head, a look of compassionate distress on her face. “God, you’ve had it rough. I’m so sorry.”
She picked up the knife and held it out, wielding it as if she intended to use it as a weapon. “I’d like to be left alone in a room with this knife and the so-called men who would attack a woman. I’d carve them up.” She swiped the knife through the air, and I felt a momentary twinge of shock before a laugh erupted from my throat. It was so strange to see this sweet, innocent-looking girl wielding a chef’s knife as if she were a pretty version of Zorro.
She stopped, the fierce look dissolving into a grin as she laughed with me. I bent forward, gasping for air, my ribs hurting with the hilarity moving through me. “Ouch.” I laughed again.
After a few minutes we collected ourselves, and Chloe went back to chopping, a few stray chuckles still bursting forth here and there.
“Is there another cutting board under there?”
“Yes, hold on.” Chloe grabbed another cutting board, a knife, and a basket of mushrooms and put them in front of me, and I began slicing.
“So, Gabriel said your paper’s about kids who were abducted and then came home?” I asked after a minute.
“Yes, specifically, it’s about the long-term psychological effects.” She tilted her head. “The majority of my research has been done using case studies, so I was really lucky that Gabriel agreed to be interviewed.” She shook her head, laying her knife down, and took the chopped onion in her hands and threw it in the large skillet on the stovetop. She turned back, grabbing a paper towel and wiping her hands. “I have to say, I expected someone … different. Not so well adjusted, so …”
“Solid,” I supplied.
Her eyes met mine and she smiled. “Yes. Solid. That’s a good word to describe him. There’s something so amazingly strong about him. Remarkable, really.” We worked in silence for a minute. “I’m fascinated by the reasons one person breaks while another who’s experienced a similar trauma survives and thrives. The mind is such a fascinating thing—and there are always so many variables. I could discuss psychology all day long.”
“So you want to be a psychologist when you graduate?”
She laughed. “You’re probably thinking the same thing my dad says. How will this girl stay quiet long enough to actually listen to anyone talk about their problems?” She grinned as I shook my head.
“No, I wasn’t thinking that.”
She laughed again. “You wouldn’t be wrong if you were. I like to chat. But I actually do love to listen, too.” She gave me a kind smile. “So if you ever need a listening ear, I’m available, and would love it if you considered me a friend.”
I smiled, continuing the chopping. We chatted easily as Chloe cooked and I took on the few prep errands I could do while seated.
Gabriel had come into the house a little earlier and gone to his room. He entered the kitchen just as Chloe was on her tiptoes reaching for a platter to use for the chicken marsala, which smelled heavenly. Gabriel had obviously just showered—his hair was still slightly wet, and he had changed clothes. He stepped up to Chloe and grabbed the platter easily, smiling as he handed it to her. She gazed up at him with adoration as she laughed softly. “Thanks.”
Gabriel looked at me. “You okay?”
I nodded, and when I looked at Chloe she was watching us, a smile on her face.
Gabriel brought the dishes into the dining area, and I laid them out at five places as Chloe finished the dinner preparations. As I was placing the utensils on napkins, the front door opened and Dominic came in, greeting us shortly and saying he was going to go to his room to change. He shot me one last cold stare before turning away. The small happy bubble I’d been in decreased in size, and for a moment I wanted nothing more than to return to my room and stay there for the rest of the night. But I took a deep breath, not willing to ruin the dinner Chloe had worked so hard to prepare, and continued setting the table, limping from place setting to place setting.