Page 49 of Second Chance with Seth

“Because you wanted me to give up the coffee shop, and I wouldn’t,” she says, lowering her eyes. “And because of Helen.”

“Whoa… you thought I left because of Helen?”

“You wanted her.”

“No, I didn’t. I’ve explained this already. I made a mistake, Everly… I fucked up. But Helen was never a factor in our break-up. Not for me.” I shake my head, then move my hand slightly, so I can caress her lips with my thumb. Her breath catches and she looks up at me again, like I knew she would. “I never wanted anyone but you, and I’m sorry I didn’t shut her down. I’ll keep saying that for as long as you need me to… for as long as it takes you to understand that she meant nothing to me.”

“Then it was just about you wanting me to give up the coffee shop? That was why you left?” She frowns, like she doesn’t understand, and I have to admit, I don’t either.

“No. I never wanted you to give up the coffee shop.”

“You asked me to choose.”

“That wasn’t my idea, and I never meant to issue an ultimatum, or make it sound like I wanted you to give up anything.”

“What did you want, then?”

“You. More of you. I know that sounds selfish, but after your aunt died, you’d shut me out.”

She leans away, or tries to. She can’t go far, because there’s a wall behind her, but I get the hint and step back slightly, giving her some space. Even so, I don’t let go of her, and I notice she’s still holding onto my arms, which feels promising.

“I had a lot to think about,” she says, defensively… which isn’t so promising. “There was a lot to do.”

“I get that. I got it then, too. But the thing was, you refused to let me help, babe. You refused to acknowledge anyone else’s role in what was happening… or even that they might be grieving, too.”

She stares at me, blinking a few times before she leans closer, looking up at me. “Are you saying you were grieving?”

“Of course I was. Not as much as you, obviously, but I’d grown to love Aunt Clare like a mother, and I’d already lost one of those. Losing a second one was tough, Everly. It brought everything back, but you had to know that better than anyone. I wanted to share that time with you, so we could help each other through the grief and the hurt, but also so I could make things easier down here… carry some of the workload for you. The problem was, you wouldn’t let me. Whenever I suggested stepping in to do something, you’d find a reason not to, but if I asked you to spend time with me, you’d tell me you were too busy. I felt like I couldn’t win. It… It was kinda like today, when I offered to help with River. I wasn’t pretending to be a father. I wanted to be one. Not just for my benefit, but for yours, so you didn’t have to do everything by yourself all the time. But…”

“But I shut you out,” she says, her voice cracking. Her eyes are glistening with tears and I step closer again, so my body is hard against hers.

“Yeah, you did,” I whisper, caressing her throat again, as she swallows hard. “But I’m not blaming you.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this at the time?” she says, licking her lips, trying to regain her composure, although it looks like a struggle. “About grieving for Aunt Clare, and how you felt?”

“Think back to how things were, Everly,” I say and I pause for a second, giving her the chance to do just that… to recall those dark days after her aunt’s death. “Would you have been willing to hear it?”

“Probably not,” she says, surprising me with her honestly. “Certainly not right at the beginning, straight after she died. Everyone else here was suffering, too. To have to bear your hurt… it would have been too much, on top of everything else.”

“I know. That’s why I kept quiet.”

“But you could have said something afterwards. There were four months between Aunt Clare’s death and you walking out.”

“I know, but you never seemed to have the time to listen.”

She frowns. “Okay, but what about that night… the night you left?”

“I was going to tell you then. I’d worked out what I wanted to say. But you started talking about Helen, and I’ll admit, I felt guilty for letting her flirt with me. I knew I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen, but I guess I didn’t think you’d noticed. You’d seemed so wrapped up in everything else.”

“Of course I’d noticed.”

I rest my forehead against hers. “I’m so sorry, Everly. Please believe me.”

“I know you are,” she says, raising her hands again, and placing them behind my neck. “Although I still don’t understand why you didn’t talk to me more on the night you left, instead of telling me you felt neglected and issuing ultimatums.”

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