Page 85 of Shelter
That was when my eyes landed on Elise. And regret — not blood — coursed through my veins.
My phone pinged, jerking me out of the memory.
Ava:Yeah. Just chill. Talking to someone.
I frowned.Talking to someone? Who the hell was she talking to? We hadn’t lived here since she was a senior in high school. Was tonight the night of reunions?
Another pang of regret lanced through my gut. I would have traded places with any other guy on the planet to be the one to go on a blind date with Elise Cormier. To have the chance to meet her now. For the first time. Without history or tragedy.
She’d grown into a beauty.
She’d been beautiful before, but either my memory hadn’t done her justice, or the flowering of womanhood had turned out a loveliness that was nothing short of brilliant. She’d been too young when I’d last seen her. Too young for me, anyway. But there was nothing of that child in her now. She was all woman.
And I had been an imbecile.
Seeing her had had felt like an electric shock. When her amber eyes had met mine, everything had come back. It was like one of my nightmares. But if I had one of those, at least I’d wake up alone. Sweating and shaking, but, thankfully, without an audience.
But the violence was not the only memory to come back. So, too, had returned what I’d kept of her. Her laughter. Her temper. Her loyalty. Over the years, I had dreamed of these just as often.
So, when I saw her in the flesh, I hadn’t been able to trust myself. I could barely speak. And she’d looked at me like I was crazy.
I couldn’t blame her. I’d been an ass the last time I saw her, and this time hadn’t been much better.
Alberta had said that she’d gone home with a headache, but I understood she’d left because of me.
Again, I couldn’t really blame her.
I shook my head, reminding myself I had enough to worry about without obsessing over Elise Cormier.
Me:WHO are you talking to?
Ava’s responsetook longer that I liked. It made me wonder if she was composing a lie. I’d caught her in so, so many lies over the years, the odds of her telling me the truth definitely weren’t in my favor.
Ava:Cole. Seriously?
That was it.That was all she wrote. I hissed my displeasure, wishing for the first time in ages I could pour myself a drink. It had been years since I kept anything at home, and although I wasn’t swearing off alcohol for life or anything, I didn’t want to touch even a drop while Ava’s recovery was so new.
Not if I went out. Not even if she’d never know. If she had to handle all of her battles sober, what excuse did I have?
Throwing myself into a project at work could overtake my mind and ease the tangle of feelings that threatened to get the best of me, but all the work that needed to be done now was at the new office. Setting up the new office, to be exact. That wasn’t work I could do from home, and since I was anxious to see Ava as soon as she got back — meet her eyes to make sure they were clear and smell her breath to know she hadn’t turned to drink — I needed to stay put.
But I had the pool.
I stalked across the house to my bedroom, undressing as I moved. I loved the house for what made it a home, but the pool had sealed the deal. I tugged on my trunks, grabbed my phone and a towel, and stepped through the French doors that led from my bedroom to the patio. The 12 x 40 lap pool shone like a jewel in the darkness of the back yard. I felt my shoulders loosen just looking at it. Barefoot, I stepped to the edge and gazed at the glassy surface, soaking in the quiet. The night was mild. May had not yet turned humid, and the sun hadn’t blazed like it would in July or August, so when I dove in, the cold water shocked me, stripping my mind of all thought.
I pulled my way down the length of the pool in steady breaststrokes to warm up, loving the water’s embrace, the blessed silence beneath its surface. Work was an aggressive, noisy kind of distraction, but swimming was bliss.
Once the chill had seeped out of my skin and my muscles warmed with exertion, I changed up to a front crawl and got to work. My second day in the house, I’d mounted a digital clock at the far end so I could track my pace, and I checked it each time I flipped. My best time had been sophomore year in the Olympic size pool at Tulane’s Reily Center. Back then, I’d clocked my two-hundred-meter free at two minutes and fifteen seconds.
That had been two months before hell opened up in front of me. After that, I didn’t touch a pool until I was a senior. I couldn’t say now why I’d stopped. Maybe I thought I couldn’t spare the time. Maybe I was punishing myself. Probably both.
These days, I was happy if I could swim a two hundred in under three minutes. But now I had no excuse not to train every day — so long as it wasn’t lightning. I’d only been in the lap pool a few times, but part of the fun now was seeing how fast I could go. Pushing myself until my lungs burned, my shoulders ached, and my thighs turned to granite.
About twenty minutes in, panting and exhausted, I flipped onto my back and stared up at a moonless, cloudless night sky. The sight stole my breath. So many stars! Lafayette had twice as many — three times as many as New Orleans. I’d forgotten how beautiful it was.
Just like Elise.
The thought came up from the depths and nearly pulled me under. I couldn’t deny the truth. But the night sky had been so much easier to forget than Elise Cormier. And now, worn out and loose, I didn’t feel the same urgency to shove her clear from my mind.
