Page 50 of Coping Skills

Chapter Twenty

The sound of Coop clearing his throat broke Daniel’s trance, bringing him back to life. He’d frozen when he’d found himself unexpectedly face to face with Elena. Her brown eyes gazed up at him, full of hope and something that looked like longing. Fuck. He’d have a hard time resisting her like this.

Coop cleared his throat again, nudging Daniel in the arm. “Well, I’ve got that thing. So, uh, I’m gonna go. Catch you later.”

Elena glanced at Coop, watching him walk away, her throat working as she swallowed. When she met Daniel’s eyes again, some of the hope had dimmed, the look that he recognized as the one she put on when she was experiencing a strong emotion coming over her face. It had been two months since he’d seen her last, and he still recognized the nuances of her expressions.I’m so fucked.

Her eyes darted away, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, can we talk?” She looked up at him, her eyes moving over his face, then dropping to his neck. Sucking in a breath, she wrapped her arms around herself. It was cold outside, only the second week of January, but he didn’t think that’s why she did that.

When he didn’t say anything, she looked around again. “Well, okay. I guess that’s a no. I just … I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. And maybe buy you a coffee. But I get it if you don’t want to talk to me.” She opened her mouth again, closed it, and shook her head, her gaze dropping to her shoes. “I don’t blame you. So, I’ll just … I’ll go. And I won’t bother you anymore.”

She turned, about to head off in another direction, and her mask broke, letting him catch a glimpse of her face crumpling before she could hide it. That was enough to break through the barrier he’d been trying to keep between them. He reached out and caught her arm. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Yeah. Okay. A coffee sounds good.”

Nodding, she turned and headed toward the student center, and he fell in step beside her. They picked their way across campus, avoiding the worst of the ice spots on the sidewalks, walking single file a couple of times as they passed other students going the opposite direction.

Neither of them spoke as they walked. Elena insisted on paying for his coffee when they got to the coffee shop, and he claimed a table in the corner after he ordered, not willing to argue with her. He kept his eyes on her as they sipped their coffee, waiting for her to speak. She looked all around, her eyes settling on him then moving away. He wasn’t used to seeing her so nervous. Part of him wanted to do something, say something, to put her at ease. This awkward tension made him uncomfortable too, especially since things had always been easy between them. Not this stilted weirdness where she wouldn’t do more than glance at him.

But he fought that urge. She wasn’t his. She hadn’t wanted him. She’d used him. And even if she was here to apologize, he needed to remember that, needed to stay strong so he didn’t give in to her again. Because he still missed her. And even though she’d used him to distract herself from her problems, he still thought that she cared about him, the thing she’d said about not wanting to watch the people she loved getting their heads bashed in popping up and echoing in his mind whenever he tried to hold on to his anger with her.

Her gaze finally settled on her hands spinning the cardboard sleeve around and around on her coffee cup. She took a deep breath and let it out, her eyes coming up to his. “I’m in therapy,” she blurted out, but didn’t continue.

He waited, then nodded, trying to be encouraging. “Good. That seems good. Is it helping?”

She nodded, letting her gaze fall away from his again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. It is. I’m, well, I feel better, stronger. Like I can handle things better.”

“Good.” All he could do was keep repeating that word. He tried to come up with something else, but didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah.” That came out softer, and she lifted her eyes to his again. “It’s been really good. My therapist has helped me realize some things and let go of a lot of the guilt I’ve been holding onto about things with my family. She’s helped me accept the situation for what it is a lot more.” She bit her lip, but pressed on. “I skipped going home for Thanksgiving so I could have some time to come to terms with everything on my own. But I went for Christmas, and it was …” She tilted her head to the side. “Not great. But better than I expected. And it was nice to know that it was okay for me to do things to take care of myself without feeling guilty or like I was a bad person.”

She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to her coffee cup again. The next thing she said came out much softer, barely above a whisper. “And she helped me realize how terrible I was to you.” She paused, meeting his eyes and pressing her lips together, a shine of tears gathering along her eyelids. Something clenched in Daniel’s gut, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she blinked the tears away, shaking her head. “I was really terrible to you. And I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

He swallowed, unsure how to respond to her apology, to the earnest look in her eyes, to the fact that she was fighting back tears while telling him how sorry she was. The part of him that had fallen deeply under her spell six months ago wanted to tell her everything was okay, that he forgave her, that they could be together. But the boy inside him that was too accustomed to being a pawn his father used to get back at his mom still rebelled against the way she’d used him as well.

“You used me.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“After I told you about my parents, my dad, how he used my brother and me to control our mom after their divorce. You knew all that, and you still used me.”

A tear slipped down her cheek as she nodded, drawing in a shuddery breath. “Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t—“ She shook her head, cutting herself off. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

The old anger and bitterness rose up inside him, choking out the sympathy he’d normally feel for her distress. “You didn’t what? You didn’t think I’d care? Or you didn’t think I’d find out?”

Her hand reached toward him like she wanted to touch him, but she stopped short, withdrawing back to her side of the table. “No, that’s not what I was going to say. I didn’t realize what I was doing at the time. I wasn’t trying to be a selfish bitch, I swear. I didn’t make the connection until you said it that night.” She stopped and swallowed hard. “Even then, I thought you were mad at me more for breaking up with you.”

“Which was a shitty thing to do, too.” He was pissed at her for breaking up with him like that. That was another point to remember, to steel him against her tears.

She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry for that, too. But I realized that wasn’t the only hurtful thing I’d done to you. So I was starting from the beginning. But I’m sorry for all of it. For using you, for treating you like you didn’t have feelings, for breaking up with you when you were hurt, for not being honest with you about my own feelings. All of it. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Why did you do it?” He didn’t know why he asked that, why he kept her talking. The more she talked, the more he softened and came closer to forgiving her. He was at war with himself, trying to hang on to his anger and hurt, but also wanting to forgive her and try again.

Would she even want to try again? Or was she just wanting to apologize so she could move on? But why would she feel it necessary to apologize if that was all she wanted? Had she cared about him after all? He’d been telling himself for the last two months that she hadn’t really cared, despite what she’d said the night of his concussion. That she’d been upset more because of her own history with TBIs than because of any deep connection they’d shared. But he could never quite believe it. The logic didn’t hold up.

She fiddled with the sleeve on her cup again. “Well, at first, it was because you seemed safe. We already had a connection, and you were so sweet, wanting to let me talk, and you didn’t give me the same pitying looks I’d been getting from everyone else for months.” She shook her head. “You made me feel good. When I was with you, I could forget about everything else, pretend that everything hadn’t fallen apart. And I craved that feeling more than anything.” Another deep, shuddery breath. “But that wasn’t a healthy way to deal with it. I was avoiding, not dealing, pushing it away. And I used you to do it, which wasn’t fair to you, and wasn’t good for me.”

Her hand extended again, but she clenched her fingers into a fist, leaving her hand in the middle of the table but not letting herself actually try to touch him. “But I did—I do—like you. I care about you. I want good things for you.” She took a deep breath, biting her lip before pressing on. “I really want you not to hate me. And I—“ She stopped, shaking her head again, pulling her hand back to her lap.

“What?”

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