Kaleb

So much has happened in the past three months.

I missed meeting Haelynn Skye Smith because I had to finish the program. That was the deal Shea and I made. Before I meet his daughter, I need to be sober and have control over my life again.

Ella never came to visit me. Although she had originally agreed, she changed her mind. Seeing me the way I was at the beginning was too much for her. Like me, she needed some time to heal.

I've gotten onto good terms with the team again and am set to start training at the end of August. My return to hockey won't be until at least November, but I'll rejoin and contribute to the team as best I can.

Finally, I sold the house. Well, my realtor did. Then I bought another house a couple of streets over from Brenna and Shea's place. I'm still living in the same area in North Van, but I haven't physically seen the inside of the house. All I've seen are photos and heard good things from Shea, Jayden, and Hunter, who were kind enough to move my belongings into it.

After the two-month mark, I could contact the outside world again. This wasn't a set rule, but I decided it would be a good one. Focusing on myself has never been my strongest attribute. With my friends visiting, I would've used their well-being as an excuse. No benefits would've come from that.

The first two weeks of treatment were torture.

But although the withdrawal symptoms were hitting me like a brick wall, through the sweat and tremors and anxiety, fragments of my mind started fitting back together. And as I felt whole again, I realized my addiction was occurring much longer than a month.

The drinking started slowly. I can't pinpoint the exact date it became an addiction, but there was a buildup that started after Mel's diagnosis. Hence the reason I fell so hard within the weeks after she passed away. I had to drink more to feel the effects, which only enhanced the addiction.

It's been three months, and I'm now part of an outpatient detox program because of good progress. In the program, which coincides with the team, I'm required to have more frequent physical and mental check-ups.

Returning to my life scares me a little. Everywhere I go, there will be temptations. Addiction'll be on the back of my mind like it was before. But even though I was aware of the historic issues in my family, it could still creep up on me. That means I have to be aware of my actions and the consequences that might follow.

I have to try my best.

Taking a deep breath of fresh late-summer air, I glance at my watch. Ella's picking me up today, and the longer I wait at the curb, the more anxious I become. We haven't seen each other for three months. All I can do is wonder what's changed for her.

Because a lot has changed for me.

After long, strenuous conversations with my therapist, I've come to terms with a lot of things.

Like how in love I am with Ella.

At first, I was worried alcohol and pain had been influencing my perception of my feelings. Now, with three months of sobriety under my belt, I know those feelings weren't false.

Ella's always held a spot in my heart, which makes sense. I've always been a fierce friend for her. Hence the reason I almost beat Ryland up. Hence the reason I went after Mikael. Or gave Isaac permission to date her. Let her stay at Mel and I's old house. Almost kissed her by the fire.

The more Ella comforted me through Mel's sickness, the more I fell. And now it feels like I'm back in high school, nursing a crush I know I'll never get over. I'm that same kid I was before I asked Ella out: anxiety-ridden and infatuated.

Gravel crunching beneath tires pulls me back into reality, and I watch as Ella pulls up to the curb. She's driving a red Toyota Rav4, and it looks pretty damn good.

When she's stopped, I throw my bag into the back seat and then climb into the passenger's seat. "Damn." I loosen a low whistle. "New car?"

Ella nods. "My uncle's retiring next year, so he's training me to take over the gym." She runs her hand along the steering wheel. "It was a write-off."

"Damn, Ella. I'm jealous."

She smiles, but says nothing. Instead, she shoulder-checks and then pulls back into the curved lane that bends around a beautiful arrangement of perennials. As we pull onto the main road, I look at Ella. Her silence speaks volumes, and I feel like I'm being suffocated by it.

My original intention was to come in here and act like my usual self. The jokester. The moron that everyone loves. I want to be that person again—I am that person again. But Ella and I still have some unchartered territory we need to discuss.

The thing is, I'm terrible at starting those conversations. Even with all the help I've gotten, there's just something intimidating about Ella.

So while I try to find the right words, we suffer in silence.

Until Ella breaks it.

"You look good," she says. Her voice is soft.

"Yeah," I nod, suddenly feeling guilty. Not about my current weight, but about what I looked like last time she saw me. I was skin and bones with alcohol on my breath. "Thanks. I'm normal again. I think."

I notice the slightest hitch in her breath before she says, "I'm glad treatment worked out. That you're still committed to it. We were all worried about you. I'm happy to see you healthy again."

My chuckle is hoarse. "You look good, too, Ella."

And it's true. She's gained a bit of weight, mainly through muscle, but she doesn't look hollow anymore. Her arms are defined as where I'm confident she could beat me in an arm-wrestling match. Even her skin looks healthier. Less jaundice and more peachy undertones and rosy cheeks.

Man, we were sucking the life from each other.

Well, mainly me. I was the major problem. Ella's tolerance level and inability to put herself first were the smaller part. She cared too much about me, and I didn't care enough.

"Ella..." 

"You got a tattoo," Ella says.

Her voice is loud, meaning she meant to cut me off. As much as I want to have this conversation, I have to respect her boundaries.

I look at my left forearm. It's covered in different flowers: roses, peonies, carnations, lavender, baby's breath, calendula. Some of these flowers were Mel's favourites. Others just looked pretty and filled the space on my forearm.

"Yeah," I reply, running my finger along the delicate black lines. "It's for Mel. Myself. Other people. A lot of things."

"Last time I talked to Melody, she said she despised lavender," Ella says.

I stare out the window, watching as cedar trees, mountains, and slivers of the ocean blend. My next words need to be chosen carefully, but I also can't lie to her. "That was for you."

Leather squeaks as she tightens her grip on the steering wheel. When I look over, she's chewing on her bottom lip.

"Kaleb."

"Ella," I reply.

She shoots me a brief glance before returning her gaze to the road ahead. "We can't do this right now."

Pointing ahead, I say, "Then pull over. Right there. There's enough room for your car." I pause, remembering she has a say in this, too. "Fuck. I'm not trying to be controlling. Sorry. If you want to, you can pull over and we can have this discussion. If not, then tell me to fuck off and keep driving."

Ella's pale green eyes shift to the side of the road. Then she sighs, which is pursued by the clicking of her indicator. Gravel crunches beneath the tires as she eases us to a stop, then shifts to park. Once the engine dies down, silence settles over us.

For a few seconds, she stares out my window, looking at the view of the ocean. It's barely visible, but you can see the glimmer of sunlight reflecting from the water sparkling through the cedar trees.

While she stares, I hold my breath. It's difficult to tell where this will go. Ella has every right to yell at me. Scream at me. Hit me. Whatever the fuck she wants to do, I'll take it. I know I deserve it.

"What do you want to talk about, Kaleb?" she asks.

I expel the deep breath.

"I'm sorry," I croak. "For everything that happened after Mel passed away. Everything I did overpowered your feelings, Ella. I'm sorry. Your emotions are just as important as mine, and I placed a burden on you that you didn't deserve. I'm not your responsibility, but you still took care of me. I took it for granted. Without you..."

I clear my throat, trying to unclog it. But it's no use. All these old emotions are rising to the surface, demanding to be felt.

"Without you," I continue, "I would've died. The way I was living... That wasn't living. That was self-destruction and narcissism." I pause. "It was also ignorance. Me being ignorant of my feelings because I felt guilty about moving on too fast. About falling for you again. What I didn't know three months ago is that there's a balance between moving on and grieving. Missing Mel and loving you can exist in the same sphere."

Ella's green eyes meet mine. "You're right. Your behaviour was shitty. But I accept your apology, Kaleb. There were a lot of external forces messing with us, and we didn't know how to manoeuvre our way through them. Which is why I'm sorry for the part I played, too. Shea and Brenna kept asking me how you were doing and I downplayed it at the beginning, thinking you needed a week or two to grieve and then you'd get better. Me being an enabler wasn't good for you. Or for me. I was also too tolerant of your behaviour and failed to recognize the validity of my emotions."

"Wow," I chuckle, running a hand through my hair. "It seems like we've been doing our homework."

"Yeah. Homework. Let's call it that." Her smile reaches her eyes. "I've been doing lots of it."

"Me too."

Because silence seems to be a reoccurring pattern, I'm not surprised when it settles again. Now that we've apologized to each other, I'm not sure where we're supposed to go next. Part of me longs for contact. Intimate or not, I just want to be near Ella. But I know I still have lots of grief within me. There are some obstacles I need to conquer before I place myself in a committed relationship.

So I decide to direct the conversation down that path, but subtly. "Mel was sneaky, wasn't she?"

It feels good to talk about her again. To hear her name and remember all those wonderful memories.

"She was," Ella nods. "She, uh, gave me a letter. That's what she whispered in my ear. It was about us." She looks down at the console. "I thought you would read it the day everything fell apart, but you didn't. I have it, and I want you to have it. But not until I've dropped you off. I think it's best you read it alone."

"Did she want me to read it?"

Ella shakes her head. "She never specified, but Brenna made a good point a few months ago. Melody gave me the letter. It belongs to me, despite being written by her, so I'm allowed to do what I want with it. And I think you need to read it."

I gnaw on my bottom lip. Reading a letter with Mel's handwriting and the echo of her voice in my head... It terrifies me. But if Ella wants me to read the letter, I will.

"Okay," I nod. "Thanks."

We drift into silence, staring at each other.

Suddenly, it's hard to breathe. Being in the same vehicle as her makes my heart beat faster and my palms feel clammy. My throat is clogging with emotions again.

"Ella..." I choke.

Ella leans over the console, and I meet her halfway. My lips brush hers, softer than a feather. And just when I think it's about to intensify, Ella pulls away.

She shakes her head. "Sorry. I thought I was ready... I'm not ready for this, Kaleb. I need more time. This healing process hasn't been easy, and if I veer off of the path, I fear I'll go back to who I was." Although she's hesitant, she reaches out and takes my hand. Squeezes it. "I still love you, Kaleb. Kissing you again..." She groans. "God, it's like a sin. But I can't do this until I know I'm ready to."

I mash my lips together, aware of a similar feeling living in my gut. There are words lingering on my tongue, but I can't seem to process them. I press my head against the headrest. Why are these conversations so fucking hard? We should never fear what we're feeling. Every emotion we feel and display is our right. They're nothing to be ashamed of.

I'm allowed to feel the pull of love and the tug of self-awareness.

"You're right. We both need more time. I love you, and I'll give you all the time you need."

My words aren't meant to end the conversation, but they do. Ella starts the vehicle and pulls back onto the road, leaving us sitting in silence again. Protests wither away on my tongue. Like my therapist said, I have to respect her boundaries. This unfinished business between us won't be easy to unpack, but at least we have time.

We're not a problem that needs solving in one day. What we need is time and patience. Love and support without the intimacy. Self-progress before the reward.

The drive to North Van comprises small talk. I ask questions about Haelynn, Ella's job—whatever I can come up with to avoid the previous topics.

When we arrive at Brenna and Shea's house, she pulls into their driveway and shifts into park. From the console, she removes the letter and hands it to me. "Here's the letter." She directs her gaze back to the house. "Shea has the keys to your car inside." The corner of her mouth quirks upward. "Though he may not give it back to you. He's become attached."

"Yeah?" I snort. "Well, he can fuck off."

"Be sure to tell him that. Also, mention your words have my support. He'll get a kick out of that."

Ella Taylor and Shea Smith: sabotaging each other since the early 2000s.

"I'll let him know," I smile. 

"Good," she replies. "Now, get in there and meet Haelynn. She needs her uncle."

I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door, but I don't climb out. Instead, I turn to Ella and press a kiss to her forehead. "Wait for me," I murmur. Her cheeks turn pink. "Give me a year. And if you can't stop thinking about me, then we try something."

"Kaleb..."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, okay?! I'm copying Brenna and Shea. But look how it worked out for them!"

Ella laughs and gives me a push. "Just go, Kaleb."

This time, I listen to her. After grabbing my bag, I head up the driveway and pause near the stairs. Ella doesn't look at me, but her smile doesn't fade, which makes my heart soar.

I grip the letter, staring after her.

Watching Ella leave is hard, but I have to let her go the way she let me go.

Because I know our story isn't over yet.

I tilt my face up to the sun, smiling.

This is far from goodbye.

In fact, it's just the beginning.