AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My skin complains; if I scrub it any harder it’ll peel off. So, I stop, turn off the hot water and turn the dial all the way to cold and force myself to stand under the icy shower. With one last cursing of myself, I turn off the water and look for a towel. Fool that I am, I hadn’t brought a towel with me. So, I’ll be dripping water all over the floor.
Elodie hasn’t got the hint and left, but she has dressed and tidied up the bed and is sitting on the edge apparently waiting for me.
I have no choice but to walk around her, wet, naked skin and all, to get to my closet for a towel.
“Forgive me,” she says simply. “I know my words sounded glib and dismissive.” Her voice is serious and a little sad. “And for that I am sorry because it’s not what I meant.”
It would be so much easier if she’d been angry or unreasonable.
Or just gone.
Elodie being nice makes it harder; anger is a much easier thing to deal with.
I pull out a towel to wrap around my hips. Nudity doesn’t bother me, normally, and she’s already seen far too much for this to matter. Yet here I am, covering up. Hiding the guilt I feel about my own past.
When I turn around, there are tears down her face. My chest twists painfully because I’ve made her cry. Again.
“In my last job,” she says quietly. “My boss blamed me for his mistakes No one could prove anything, but I got a reputation for being incompetent. If anything went wrong, they looked at me. If a client left them a bad review, I was asked if I’d spoken to them. I was always guilty until proven innocent. No promotion, no training, not even invited to the office picnic.” She wipes her cheeks but another tear spills from her lashes. “It went on for two years. I tried and tried to be seen for who I am. Desperately trying to prove my skills and talents but I was still called Error-Elodie behind my back. Once your face gets blackened, you just can’t wash it clean.”
I find myself at her side, dropping down on one knee and wiping her face with my own hands. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“Because.” She’s now crying in earnest. “How people treat you affects how you feel about yourself. Very soon you just have this.” She snatches a fast breath. “This whiff about you that tells everyone you’re an easy target. And even people who have nothing against you, turn mean because—because they can. I smell like a loser, even my boyfriend decided he could treat me like shit.”
Her words lacerate me. How did I not even suspect she’s been carrying such wounds of her own. The clues had been there. Didn’t she call her last relationship in Manchester a big mistake? And her emotional response to kindness, even to praise when we told her she was talented. How did I not see it? I’ve been so self-absorbed, blinkered, thinking only of my own troubles.
And she’s right. So very right. Once you become a target, you attract bullies.
“Opportunist malice,” I say, brushing the hair away from her face. “People who jump on the bandwagon because they need an easy target to make them feel strong.”
“The worst thing about it is that when you try to tell the story, people think you’re exaggerating. I’m sorry, I just did the same thing to you.”
It’s the first time, ever, that someone outside my family has taken my side. Not only someone not of my family, but a LeFevre. The relief is like an ache that takes my breath away. It’s not that she’s ripped the bandage off an old wound. More that she took off an old bandage, cleaned the wound, and applied a fresh dressing.
I pull her into my chest which is still wet from the shower. “Shhhh. I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. He’s your grandfather whom you love. A good reason to doubt my story.”
She snakes her arms around my neck. “Yes, I love him but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe you.” her voice is still fractured from crying. “I don’t understand what happened and why…” She hiccups. “And I can’t ask him, I tried but he is too old, and his memory is going.”
We hold each other for a long time, until she finally speaks. “Why are you always naked when we’re having a serious talk?”
This.
This, right here, the way she finds hidden humour in sad moments, this is why I’m falling for her.
We hold each other, both laughing now.
“Let’s never speak about the past,” I say. “Let’s turn a page and leave it behind.”
“Can the past really stay behind? Don’t we need to fix it?”
“You have a time machine in that shop of yours?” I tangle my hand in her hair.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Elodie
Grandad is on the floor in the hallway.
I drop everything and rush to him. “What happened?”
