“I got a club full of brothers for that, Es.”
“Just the same. I hope you know I’m always here to listen, too.”
“I appreciate that. Let me walk you out.”
He turned her words over in his mind as they gathered her things and she said her round of good-byes. She hadn’t been there longer than a few hours, and she’d already won them over. As he watched her pull away, he wondered if he was doing this for her or himself.
CHAPTER THREE
Estelle
“Is this the point where you explain where you were last night?” Jolene asked as she peered over her plastic cup.
Sighing, Estelle leaned back into her plush orange armchair. The peace she’d discovered yesterday with Snake was disintegrating rapidly. How can I explain a man like him to Jolene? He was a complex puzzle she’d yet to scratch the surface on. Jolene would only see the tats and outlaw biker lifestyle. She would call her a million shades of stupid and start listing all the reasons why any sort of relationship with him was a bad idea. She took a sip of her Bourbon Barrel Coffee to stall for time.
“Does it matter?” Estelle asked, studying the brown liquid inside her mug.
“Were you at the grave site again?” Jolene’s voice dropped to a near whisper.
Estelle looked up. The sorrow in her sister-in-law’s green eyes cut through Estelle’s annoyance like a hot knife through butter. She folded.
“No. I told you, this year I’m focused on moving forward. No more drunken days sitting on the cold ground all day. I promise. I know it won’t change anything.”
Jolene seemed relieved. “So where were you?”
“With a friend,” Estelle replied with a shrug.
Jolene frowned. Estelle could see the wheels in her head turning double time.
“Who?”
“No one you know,” Estelle answered, keeping her tone light.
“You’ll have to forgive me if that’s not reassuring,” Jolene said drolly.
Estelle cringed. After everything Jolene had done for her, she owed her more of an explanation. “I’ve been going to a grief group for about a month now. They pair you up with a buddy, or as my sponsor and I would say, support.”
“That’s fantastic, Estelle! Why didn’t you say something?” Jolene’s face lit up like a lamp that had been switched on.
“Because I didn’t know if I was going to continue it initially. Later, because it felt good to do something and not make a big deal out of it. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a petri dish under a microscope.” She shuddered remembering the way she’d been hounded by the press right after the accident. Everyone wanted an update on her progress or an exclusive interview. She’d stopped watching local television because they kept playing her story like it was a new reality television show. The mini paparazzi stage had contributed substantially to the previous year of living like a hermit and cutting people off. There were no words to describe the way it felt to see your so-called friends on the screen doing interviews about you.
“Between the frequent visits with the doc, and you and everyone I know waiting to see if I’m going to have another epic meltdown, there’s not a lot of room for screw ups. The pressure is too intense. I wanted to dip my toe into the water without an audience standing behind me.”
“We worry about you, Stelle. You’ve been through a lot and haven’t always handled everything well.”
“I know. I understand that, but you can’t hold it against me for the rest of my life. I’ve been through some Lifetime movie worthy shit over the past couple of years.”
“We don’t hold it against you—”
“Do you know how many missed calls I had when I got to my car after class? I love you all for caring. You carried me when I couldn’t stand on my own two feet. You dragged me out of bed kicking and screaming when I wanted to lay down and die. I will never forget that or downplay it. I was a mess. But I’m not that person anymore.”
Jolene stirred her iced coffee and peered out the window. “It’s hard to stop cold turkey. We’ve watched you struggle so hard, gain momentum, and then crash and burn out of nowhere. It makes it hard for us to be hands off, and let you go it alone. I know you’re not a child. I’m not trying to treat you like one,” Jolene said with a sigh.
“Trust me to ask for help if I need it. I have to learn to function on my own again, Jole. It’s the only way it’ll work long-term.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Was your support helpful?”
Estelle smiled. “Yeah, they were. I dragged my feet about going to the grief group. I’ve gotten used to being an anti-social hermit. What used to come second-nature takes a bit of work. I accept that, and I’m trying to change it. Funnily enough, and as cliché as it sounds, being around others who’ve lost someone helps.”