Page 23 of Finding Home

He chuckled. “I don’t know how you walk in heels. Nat used to con Evan and me into playing dress up. That girl had us wrapped around her finger. I don’t know how anyone walks in those things.”His lips curled with the mention of his sister.

“That explains so much.”

Clayton’s eyebrow quirked.

“In day camp, we asked the kids to draw a picture of their family. I don’t know why I remember this, but Natalie’s picture had what I thought were three little girls in dresses. Now, I realize two of those girls were Evan and you.”

“Was there glitter?” His chest rumbled with soft laughter.

“Over everything.”

A wistful expression covered his face. “The lengths we’d go to make her happy.”

“How far?”

“One time, she’d found glitter eyeshadow leftover from Halloween, I guess, and smeared it all over my face. I looked like a deranged clown,” he groaned. “Evan found us and threatened to take a picture. By the time he found a camera with film, I’dcleaned up. Thank god we grew up before cell phone cameras were a thing. He teased me for being a pushover, but he was Nat’s next makeover.”

Elle joined in his laughter. “I would have loved having a big brother, I think. Uncle Pete is fourteen years older than me and can be like a big brother. Although, I think it’s different when you’re closer in age and grow up in the same house. He had already moved out by the time we moved in with my grandparents.”

Oh, god, just shut up.Elle drank the last of the now lukewarm tea to stop her rambling. She seemed to have no filter when speaking to Clayton, like pulling open the curtains to show him inside her house, the clothes strewn on the floor, dirty dishes, and unmade bed.

Clayton nodded. “But an uncle is more of a grown up. A big brother is going through it with you.”

“I just would have wanted someone to be in it with me.” She was losing the battle to keep her voice from cracking.

Clayton scooted closer, placing his hand in hers just as she had done the morning of their first run. The gentle squeeze of his fingers communicated the same words she spoke the day before. Her heart and logic fist-fought, the heart wanting to speak and logic wanting the words to remain tucked within. For so long, it had been up to her to carry her own burdens, her own sadness. The pads of his thumb coaxed her to speak or maybe she just wanted them to coax her.

“How much do you know?” she murmured.

“Some.”

Steadying her voice, she focused on a wooden framed photograph of baby goats on the wall. “It’s no secret my dad left. We didn’t know it at the time, but he was messing around with a nurse at St. Luke’s where he worked. Of course, he didn’tmention any of that in the note he left for us. He just left and mom fell apart. I don’t know what your parents told you…”

Clayton’s mouth opened but closed just as quick, as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Elle studied her kneecaps, continuing, “She tried to kill herself and I found her. Of course, she told your dad and everyone else it was an accident, but I knew the truth. I found her, and the note addressed to Dad.” Elle gritted her teeth. Just like his note was to Mom, not one goodbye to her.Is that what hurts the most?

Clayton clasped her hand as she continued to explain.

After her mom came back from the mental health facility two weeks later, there were promises that it would all be different. Mom would find someone to make it all better, to make them a family again. At twelve, Elle wanted to believe her mom, but her stomach had pinched with nauseous doubt. It was difficult to trust her mother’s frowning lips and vacant eyes that seemed to look beyond Elle, rather than at her.

“Sorry.” Elle whispered, fearing anything louder would dislodge that lump in her chest and break the dam on her emotions. The sorry was for so much. For his quiet patience sharing her sadness, when he didn’t have to. For her twelve-year-old self who wasn’t asked to give up childish things but rather had those things ripped away.

Clayton scratched Fitz’s belly. “You asked me what my parents told me. It was a Wednesday. I don’t know why I remember that.” He shook his head. “I was sitting in the kitchen doing homework and Nat and Evan were in the living room playing. My folks came home, and mom just stared at me for a long time making me feel like I’d done something wrong. She asked if I knew you.” He placed her hand in his lap, absently massaging it, the hard lump in her throat dissolved with each slow circle across her skin. “When I told her I did, she looked atme with this expression that at the time I couldn’t place, but now I know as admiration. She said you were the most beautifully strong-hearted young woman she had ever met.”

“Wow.” Her whispered response was breathy.

The day Mom had been admitted, Mrs. Owens had pinned her with a questioning stare when Elle defied the request for her to remain in the waiting room while Aunt Janet ushered her dazed mom into the clinic exam room. Ithadbeen a Wednesday.

“I knew of you before that day, but never really noticed you ‘til then. After that all I could do was notice you.” His admission drew her surprised gaze to his face. He tipped up his chin. “Mom was right, you were…are strong. Not to sound like a self-help book but being strong doesn’t mean doing it alone or holding it all in. You said you wanted someone to be in it with you. I…. I think I’d like to do that for you. With you.”

Elle’s breathing sped up.He’s just that type of guy. Mathew’s words from the previous night slowed her pulse.

“You are a good big brother. I hope Natalie doesn’t mind if I borrow you.” Elle sighed, eyes closed, head lying on his shoulder. It was kindness, nothing more. Just another friend, like Noah.

“Of course.”

“He’s like the best therapy. You should charge.” she said, raising her head to lift and cradle Fitz in her arms.

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