A Thousand Letters

"Before you say no, I’d like to state my case."

"All right," was all I could say.

"As mentioned, I am patient, though maybe more persistent than I let on. I like you, Elliot. I like you, and you’re shouldering a lot. You could use a night away, a night out where you don’t have to think about anything but yourself and what you want. You don’t have to worry about Mary or the kids or Rick or broody guy. You could use a safe place, and I happen to be extraordinarily safe. Maybe when things settle down we can be more than friends, but for now, I’m perfectly content with that, if it’s what you want. I just … I like you, and I’d like you to join me for dinner tonight. Will you do me the honor?"

He quieted down, giving me a moment to think about how to respond as we approached Rick’s house. It wasn’t untrue, me needing a safe place, but I had no intention of dating him, and it felt wrong to proceed without him knowing.

We slowed to a stop at the steps of the house, and when I looked up at him, I saw his hope fade as he took in my expression.

I touched his arm, and he took my hands. "Jack, I’m sorry. You’ve been … well, you’ve been a great friend to me in a time when I needed one. But …" I collected myself and told him the truth. "Time won’t change the fact that I’m in love with someone else."

He nodded down at our hands. "Let me guess. Broody guy?"

I pursed my lips and released them. "Yes," I answered quietly.

"I should have known." His words were soft, blameless. "Judging by his reaction to seeing us the other day, I think he’s in love with you too."

"It’s been that way for a long time. It’s just not so simple as us being together, that’s all. I’m sorry. I … I didn’t mean to mislead you."

He shrugged, still looking down. "It’s okay — you didn’t. You were pretty clear from the start. I’m just not great at taking the hint." He met my eyes and smiled. "We can still be friends, though, right? Real friends, if I promise no expectations of more from my end?"

I smiled back, relieved. "Of course. I really have enjoyed spending time with you. I hope we can still have that."

"I wouldn’t have it any other way." And with that, he cupped my cheek and leaned in, pressing a kiss into my other cheek chastely as I stood there, frozen to the spot. "I’ll see you around, Elliot."

"See you, Jack." My cheeks were on fire, my heart racing from the surprise of his gesture, and he smiled at me once more with his hand on my cheek before turning and walking away.

I took a deep breath and tried to put it all behind me. I’d cleared the air with Jack, spent the morning compositing my thoughts, and now I was ready to face Wade, to talk to him, to tell him how I felt.

Nerves flitted around my chest, and I smiled. I was in love with Wade, and there was a chance he was in love with me too. Seven years had disappeared into thin air at the thought.

I climbed the steps and knocked on the door, my hope sliding down into my shoes when it swung open to Wade, shoulders square and eyes sharp and flinty as steel.

"H-hi."

He said nothing, just turned and walked away, leaving the door gaping.

I stepped inside and closed it, my heart clanging, my uncertainty shaking me. He’d walked into the living room and to several stacks of books, which he sorted through, stacking them with noisy thumps. One slipped off the top and hit the ground, and a swear word hissed through his lips as he reached for it, slamming it on another stack.

I crept into the threshold of the room. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

He didn’t turn or look up. "No, I’m not fucking okay." Another book stacked with an angry thud, but it was too much force, knocking the pile off center, and the stack fell over.

I moved toward him, hands outstretched for the books. "Let me help you."

He blocked me with his body, still not looking at me. "I don’t want your help."

I pulled my hands back, wounded, somehow still surprised that he would once again shut me out. But clarity washed over me — of course today he would be different.

He was as unreliable and inconstant as the weather, and I stopped myself from reeling, recognizing the situation for what it was. Last night he’d just been caught up in the moment, emotional, sentimental. Wade was upset about his father; nothing about what happened had been about me.

I was through guessing which version of him I’d get when I walked through the door. I was through being pushed and pulled and toyed with.

But even still, I wanted to help him. Even still, I wanted to heal him.

"What’s wrong, Wade?"

At that, he looked over his shoulder, his eyes full of hurt and anger. "What’s wrong?" He stood, turning to face me like a brick wall. "What’s wrong? Everything is wrong, Elliot. I’ve been sitting in this house for a week waiting, just waiting. Waiting for the seconds, the minutes to count down until the end. I’ve got my dad to think about. I’ve got my sisters to think about. I’ve got everyone to think about before myself. So no. I’m not okay. And no, I don’t want your help."

I couldn’t breathe, the shock hitting my lungs, freezing them as he blew out of the room, snatching his coat off the peg before opening the door, disappearing just before it slammed behind him. Ben glanced at me apologetically as he trotted toward the door, coat in hand, and the door opened and closed once again before I could finally take a breath.

Sophie hurried in, concern on her face, and she reached for me, pulling me into a hug. "My God, what happened? I’m so sorry."

I shook my head numbly. "I … I don’t know. I just tried to talk to him and he just … just …"