Stepbrother Dearest(50)

“Did you have any other girlfriends besides Chelsea?”

“Chelsea’s my first serious relationship. I screwed around a lot before that.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean…you. You weren’t part of the screwing around. What happened with us was different.”

“I know what you meant.” After a block of silence, I said, “I want you to be happy, Elec. If she makes you happy, I’m happy for you. You told me she was the best thing that ever happened to you. That’s great.”

“I didn’t say that,” he said curtly.

“Yes, you did.”

“I said she was one of the best things. So were you. Just in another time.”

Another time—a time that’s passed.

You get the picture now, Greta?

“Thank you,” I said.

“Don’t thank me. I took your f*cking virginity and left. I don’t deserve your thanks.”

“You did what you felt you had to do.”

“It was still wrong. It was selfish.”

“I still wouldn’t change anything about that night if that makes you feel better.”

He let out a deep sigh. “You seriously mean that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t regret one thing that happened that night either, only what happened after.”

I closed my eyes. We were both silent for a long time. I think the day had finally caught up with both of us physically.

“You still there?” I asked.

“I’m still here.”

I let those words sink in, knowing that tomorrow he wouldn’t be. I needed to get at least a couple hours of sleep before the two-hour drive back to Boston in the morning.

I needed to let him go.

Let him go.

“I’m going to try to get some sleep,” I said.

“Stay on the phone with me, Greta. Close your eyes. Try to sleep. Just stay on the phone.”

I pulled the comforter over myself.

“Elec?”

“Yeah…”

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I hope someday I can say you were one of the best, but for now, it’s only you.”

I closed my eyes.



***



Elec met me at the hotel registration desk where we both checked out.

We had each showered but were wearing the same clothes we’d worn to the club the night before. The scruff on his chin appeared to have grown out overnight and even though his eyes were weary, he still looked painfully hot in his club attire at 10 in the morning.

His words from last night rang out in my head. “I’m fighting the urge to back you up against this wall and f*ck you so hard that I’ll have to carry you back to your room.”

We stopped at the casino Starbucks, and as we were waiting for our coffees, I could feel him staring at me. I’d been intentionally trying not to look at him because I was sure he’d be able to see the sadness in my eyes.

We ended up taking our breakfast on the road. The ride home was eerily quiet. It was like the calm after the storm. The whirlwind of the previous day had given way to a numb and helpless feeling this morning.

Light rock played on the radio station as I kept my eyes on the road. What felt like the weight of a million unsaid words loomed over us as we remained silent.

He said one thing the entire ride. “Will you drive me to the airport?”

“Sure,” I said without looking at him.

Clara was originally going to drive him, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the change of plans, which would prolong the agony.

We pulled into Greg and Clara’s. Elec ran in to gather his belongings while I waited in the car. Since we had a little extra time, the plan was to go to my mother’s house and check on her before we headed to the airport.

He’d left his phone on the seat and a text came through. The screen was lit, and I couldn’t help peeking down at it. It was from Chelsea.



I’m going to wait up. I can’t wait until you’re home. Have a safe flight. Love you.



I regretted looking at it because it solidified that this was really the end.

Before I could wallow in self-pity, Elec approached carrying a large black travel bag. He got in, looked down at his phone and sent a quick text as I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

Mom wasn’t home when we got to the house. When I texted her, she said she’d gone for a walk.

It certainly wasn’t my intention to find myself alone with Elec in the house that held all of our memories together.

He leaned against the counter. “Hey, you got any of your ice cream lying around? I’ve been jonesing it for seven years.”

I’ve been jonesing you for seven years.

“You might just be in luck,” I said, opening the freezer.

Ironically, thinking I was going to need it, I’d made a batch with my old ice cream maker the night before the funeral and put it in the freezer. Of course, I never came home to have it.

I scooped it out into one bowl and took two spoons out of the drawer. We always shared the bowl and for old times’ sake, I kept to that tradition.

“You put extra snickers in it.”

I smiled. “I did.”