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It had been quite some time since she’d had to do something like this. Her fingers had been skinnier back when her mother had locked them out. She stuck her hand through the door and managed to slide the band through one of the chain’s loops on the fourth try. It had been more difficult when her mother was there. The woman would close the door on her hand, screaming that she wouldn’t be taken alive.
Celia folded one side of the band through the other, pulling on it a few times to make sure it was secure. She just hoped the rubber band would stretch long enough without breaking. She’d had this one for a while, and it may have been brittle enough to snap. A curse slipped out when she missed the doorknob on the first pass, but she caught it on her next attempt. She pressed her head against the door, closing her eyes.
“Trenton?” she called, but there still wasn’t an answer. “I’m coming in,” she warned. When she pulled the door shut, she heard the clang of the chain.
Pushing it open again, she moved inside the dark condo. Trenton had always left a light on in the past, and the lack of one sent a chill through her. He was lying on his side on the kitchen floor, his eyes closed. “Trenton!” she called, falling to her knees beside him and searching for injuries. Finding none, she frowned and shook his arm. “Trenton, wake up.”
He stirred. When he rolled to his back, the empty bottle clinked as it rolled away and a picture fell from his hands. Celia picked it up, looking at a younger Trenton smiling so happily at a gorgeous, red-haired woman. Emily really had been beautiful. Celia set the picture to the side, leaning over him and cupping his face with her hands.
“Trenton,” she called softly, stroking him with her fingers. His nose wrinkled as his brows pulled together. She remembered that he was a heavy sleeper. Alcohol likely hadn’t helped. Still, it was impressive that their banging hadn’t woken him. “Trenton, come on. Please wake up so I know you’re okay.”
His eyelids fluttered, and then those green eyes stared up at her, though it took them a few blinks to focus. “Celia?” he asked, though there was a slur to her name.
She glanced around him, but relaxed when there were no plastic pill bottles or anything. The poor man had simply gotten drunk. “Yeah, it’s me. How are you feeling?”
He frowned in confusion, but then his thoughts found the pain that had led to him lying there before. He closed his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here. I can’t…” He trailed off, biting his lip, too kind to tell her the full truth, that it hurt to see her there when he was mourning his wife.
“I’ll leave soon, when Malcolm arrives.” She pulled her hands from him even though they wanted to linger, then typed a quick text into her phone.
Trenton grabbed her hand, squeezing. As if he realized what he had done, he jerked away, hissing in pain when his elbow hit the refrigerator.
Celia reached out, her fingers rubbing at the spot where he’d banged it. “Lie still. How much did you drink?”
His eyes moved to where she touched him. “Don’t,” he said.
She pulled away, holding her hands up. “I’m sorry.” Heat rolled into her eyes when she realized she wouldn’t be able to touch him again after that day. “I never meant to make things harder for you. I’ll wait outside.”
“Celia, wait.” Trenton grabbed her, and she lost her balance, tumbling forward until she hit his chest. Trenton grunted, but his arms locked tight around her.
“I’m okay. You don’t have to protect me.” Celia wriggled, but his grip pulled her closer. “Trenton, let me go so I can leave you alone.”
“What if I don’t really want you to go?” Trenton asked. His hand moved to cup the back of her head, and he brought her down to him, his lips pressing against hers, soft and hard at the same time. Her chest tightened, and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears inside.
He broke the kiss, and their foreheads touched. “I’m such a jerk. When I touch you, I don’t want to keep my promise at all.”
“What—” Celia swallowed as her lips brushed against his. Her eyes opened to find him staring at her. “What promise is that?”
“I promised I’d never forget her. That was Emily’s biggest fear. That her death would make it as if she never existed at all.” Trenton stroked the side of her face. “That’s why I can’t be with you. I promised I’d always remember her.”
“I understand, Trenton.” Celia leaned into his hand. “I’ve always understood. I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so sweet. You’ve done so much for me.” Celia smiled down at him. “You are in no way a jerk. The complete opposite.”
“I forgot her yesterday. The day that she should be remembered the most. It was what she’d been afraid of. No one remembered her. Not even her husband.”
A noise sounded from behind her, and Celia turned to find Malcolm and Blake standing in the kitchen doorway, looking awkward.
Celia looked back at Trenton, putting her hand over his, where it still rested against her cheek. “You didn’t forget her, Trenton. Look at yourself. You more than remember.” She gave his hand a squeeze.
“But yesterday—” Trenton broke off as she removed his hand and stood.
Celia backed away, nodding to Malcolm, who moved past her.
Blake patted her shoulder as he crouched down by his friend, lifting the empty bottle for a sniff. “Damn, man, you need to call us the next time you decide to drink alone.”
Malcolm glared at him. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Celia studied Trenton as he stared at his friends. She stepped forward, and his eyes shifted to her again. “I almost died once,” she said. Her eyes moved to Malcolm. He had tensed, his jaw hard. “Someone saved me, so I didn’t, but I thought about it that day. I’ve remembered what happened ever since, actually, and think about what could have happened. And you know what?” She took a breath, forcing herself to meet Trenton’s gaze. “I’d hate it if people remembered me that way. If all they thought about was my death.”
Blake winced even as Malcolm shook his head. “Celia, that’s not helping.”
