elle marshall đ„đ [wynonna earp] (peacemaker) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-11-13 16:36:00 |
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âHow many people did Mom say would be there? Do you remember?â The grocery store was one of the last places Elle wanted to be at the moment, but Thanksgiving was coming up soon and sheâd promised their mother that she would help out. This was a really important year for the whole family - it was the first time in a long while that they were all close enough to come home for Thanksgiving - so their mother wanted it to be perfect. Elle had trouble saying no. It was a good excuse to hang out with Cal, anyway. Not that she needed an excuse when they lived together, but it was still nice. After so many years with only letters, phone calls and the occasional video, and after almost losing him, Elle couldnât really get enough. âShould we get stuff for pie, too?â They were really only on an errand for a turkey or two, before everyone else got their hands on it all, but Elle didnât want end up unprepared. âHow did Mom cook for all of us all the time? Jesus, this is stressful already.â Callum chuckled at that, obviously enjoying his sister's anxiety over the dinner to come. âEleanor. Calm the fuck down. Why did you volunteer us to get the damn turkeys anyway? All you had to do was say, âI'm bringing Cal so Chris can bring the fucking birds,â and you'd automatically get a pass because I'm the favorite.â âUh,â Elle rolled her eyes, âbecause Chris would forget and weâd be shit outta luck.â That shouldâve been obvious, but on the off chance it wasnât, she added, âbesides, Iâm trying to be helpful. If momâs feedingâŠâ She paused to count up the numbers she knew would be there, with certainty, including grandparents and cousins, âI mean, there are a lot of us. And Iâm going to bring Hunter, and he can eat for two.â âOh, so the boyfriend is coming,â Cal mused, keeping his voice light and playful, though his body language suggested otherwise as they stopped next to a freezer case full of turkeys. He reached in and hoisted out the biggest one he could see. âBest friend,â Elle corrected, pushing the cart a little closer so he could put the turkey in the cart. âNot boyfriend.â Even though he was that in everything but name, Elle was specific with how she referred to him. Boyfriend changed everything, more than theyâd already changed their relationship. âAnd I dunno,â she added as an afterthought. âI havenât asked yet.â Maybe it was presumptuous to assume heâd agree, or that he was even going to be around. âI don't know about you,â he replied, examining two turkeys, âbut I don't fuck my best friends.â He face her a pointed look, then selected a turkey and swung it up and into the cart, stumbling but recovering as he threw his prosthetic leg off balance with a small grunt. âYou might if they were as hot as he is,â Elle countered with a smirk, knowing full well how heâd react to that, but she didnât care. That was payback for the look he gave her. âOr if they were single and hot. Diegoâs hot and all, but Iâll kill you if you break up a marriage.â âHe's not my type,â Cal retorted. He leaned on the cart and frowned at her. âWhat the hell are you two doing anyway? You're not exactly discreet and he's over all the fucking time.â âExcuse me?â Elle had been in the process of mentally calculating how many people the turkey would feed, so at first, she wasnât sure she heard him right. âWhat the fuck is that supposed to mean? Weâre not doing anything where you can see it. Wouldnât want to offend your delicate sensibilities. Weâre -â She was about to explain, but then stopped herself short. It wasnât anyoneâs business, not even Calâs. âWhatâs it matter, anyway? I can do what I want.â âRight, do whatever the hell you want, Elle. Fuck any consequences.â He straightened up off the cart, abandoning his casual exterior to display the irritation he truly held, and began heading toward where he knew they stocked baking supplies. With his muscles stiffened more from his poor mood, his limp was more pronounced than usual. âIf you want to do pies, we need to get shit for pecan pie for Aunt Monica or sheâll never shut up about it.â Stunned, Elle didnât follow. âFuck any consequences?â Her voice trailed after him, and she watched him walk, failing to understand what Calâs problem was or how he could move onto talking about pies (that only reminded even more her of Hunter - not that Cal knew that) right after snapping at her. She shook her head and rushed to catch up with him, reaching out to grab his arm and make him stop. The rest of the world had faded away, in large part. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Elle knew they were in the middle of the grocery store, and she knew that word spread fast in Dunhaven, but it was hardly her focus. âWhatâs your problem? Youâre being an asshole right now.â When Elle grabbed him, Cal tripped on his bad leg, catching himself with a hand on one of the racks. That hurt a little, he realized, turning to scowl at her. âMy problem is that heâs not good enough for you, Elle!â he snapped, pulling his arm free with more force than was actually necessary, making her fingernails scratch a little over his army tattoo. âIf heâs not going to actually man up and commit to you, he doesnât deserve you. And if itâs you who thinks you can do friends with benefits with your best friend and not ruin the friendship because youâre too scared to go for something real, then grow up! Life is really fucking short, Eleanor.â Even though she and Hunter had already talked about their (her, really) concerns about whether or not they would ruin the friendship, it still took Elle off-guard to hear someone else bring it up, too. She was scared. She was afraid sheâd lose him in the end, and that sheâd be left alone. She was afraid that all her dreams about it would end up being a prophecy. The worst part was probably that it was coming from Cal. She thought he knew her well enough to trust her judgment, and she thought he knew Hunter well enough to know what sort of person he really was. âHeâs the best guy Iâve ever had around,â Elle began, her voice wavering in uncharacteristic emotion, âand I know you know that. He gets me. We get each other, and if thatâs not good enough for you, then I donât know what the fuck to tell you. Iâm not here for your fucking judgment, so you can leave that at the door or --â She swallowed, her voice caught in her throat. Sheâd been about to tell him to find somewhere else to live, but ultimately, she couldnât say it. âMaybe you should try actually talking to him. Or maybe you should just let us do what we want and let me be fucking happy for a change. Iâm happy, okay? Why isnât that enough for you? Do you want me to say I love him? What do you want?â By the time she stopped, angry tears were welling in her eyes, and she turned away. âLet me have just this one good thing, Cal.â Guilt trickled in when Elle began to get emotional and he noticed a number of people staring, but Cal didnât back down completely even as he lowered and calmed his voice. âI want you to not fuck up your âone good thing.â Youâre not just hooking up with some rando from the bar, Elle, youâre sleeping with your best fucking friend. You are smarter than this. If heâs as great as you say -- and I did always like Hunter -- and you âgetâ each other, than that means itâs already more, but youâre going to do like you always do and run away from it when it gets too real and then youâre going to be hurt and Iâm tired of seeing you play this bullshit game. Itâs your life, but youâre my baby sister whoâs going to end up hurt and I donât want to fucking see that, okay?â Smarter than this. Elle scoffed. How could he say something like that about his sister? Acting like she wasnât smart for making decisions that made her (feel good in the moment) happy. At least she wasnât hooking up with some random guy who didnât have a job and probably lived in his motherâs basement. It wasnât a game to her, and she didnât think it was one to Hunter, either. If anything, they were being more cautious because of who they were to each other. âWell, congratulations,â Elle said, her voice now flat and dry as she tried to act unaffected, âyouâre the one who did that, not him. I hope youâre happy.â She turned her back on him and went back to the cart. âYou can get the stuff for the pies if you want, Iâll meet you at the check-out.â As she grabbed the cart, his anger flared up again and he shouted after her, âRight! Leave the cripple to grab a bunch of shit without a cart to put it in! Real mature, Eleanor!â âOh, for fuckâs sake.â She was half tempted to tell him to go fuck himself and get another cart for himself, but instead she left the cart where it was. âFine, you take the cart.â She turned around only so she could flip him off with emphasis. âHowâs that for mature?â It was petty and she knew it, but at the moment, she didnât care. She didnât wait to hear his response. It took her about fifteen minutes to find what else she needed - wanted, at that point - and make it to the registers. She had a basket with a pint of ice cream, a bottle of red wine and some essentials for her own refrigerator, having nearly forgotten all about whatever else her mother wanted her to get. It was early for Thanksgiving prep, anyway, she justified to herself. Thereâd still be enough by the time the holiday actually rolled around. And sheâd just have to come back for the vegetables, anyway. Elle paid and loaded the car in near-silence, only speaking to the cashier and a neighbor who spotted her and asked her how she was doing. She really hated living in a small town, sometimes. Maybe she never should have come back. Cal was silent, ignoring the small talk, and refusing to let Elle load by herself. It was a matter of pride. He was letting her drive him around, still getting the hang of driving with the prosthetic, but he refused to be useless. Those turkeys were heavy after all. Once in the car, though, he didn't look at her, just staring out through the windshield. Every muscle in his body was tense and his phantom limb throbbed. He'd pushed himself today, emotionally more than physically, and he was embarrassed. He didn't care much about gossip, but they'd made a hell of a scene and he hadn't meant to push things that far when he'd begun mocking. âLook, I haven't really unpacked much yet,â he finally said quietly after a few minutes, still staring straight out ahead of them. âI'll move back with Mom and DadâŠâ âWhat?â Elle had been fully prepared to give him the silent treatment the entire way home, but now that he was talking about leaving, she couldnât. She glanced at him, and she could feel the fight seeping out of her. He looked so tired, and sheâd just gotten him back. She didnât want to let him go already. âDonât be ridiculous, I donât want you to leave,â she told him. âI just âŠâ Her voice trailed off and she sighed. âThat was really harsh of you, you know? I didnât know you thought so little of me.â Cal finally looked at her and his expression was hollow. âElle, it's the exact opposite. You deserve better because I know how incredible you are. I also know the odds of this going to shit are astronomical and⊠Hunter's a good kid. I want you to be happy. One ofâŠâ He stopped himself, shaking his head and looking out the windshield again. âNot what it sounded like to me,â Elle grumbled. âAnd it kind of sucks to hear you telling me the odds of me not fucking this up are shit. I know you worry, and normally itâs sweet and all, but God, just⊠I donât see why you canât trust us.â Cal scowled a little, but still kept his eyes straight forward. âI never fucking said you would fuck it up, Eleanor. But you can do whatever the fuck you want. I won't stand in your way.â âLet me paraphrase youâŠâ If she hadnât been driving, this was where Elle would have mocked him by imitating his facial expressions and body language. Instead, she kept her eyes on the road. ââYouâre going to run because thatâs what you always do when youâre scared.â How does that not sound like âyouâre gonna fuck it up, Elleâ? Because it sounds like that to me. And thatâs bullshit, because if I always ran when I got scared, I wouldnât have come back here to be closer to you. So, yeah, try again, âcause I see whatâs going on here. Stop making me feel like shit. Itâs not your life.â âScared of commitment, Elle,â he snapped in retort. âShit, if you donât want to be in Dunhaven, donât let me keep you here. Like I said, I can go live at Mom and Dadâs. Hell, Iâm probably good on my own at this point. Iâll get my own fucking apartment and you can whatever or whoever you want and Iâll keep to myself and keep my damn mouth shut because Iâm only your brother, what is my advice worth?â Cal was still refusing to look at her again, turning his head now even more away to look out the passenger window. His chest and throat were tight, though he knew he wasnât going to cry. Still, a dark and gloomy mood had settled in him that wouldnât be easily shaken. He was counting down the minutes until they arrived at the apartment and he could grab a pack of beers and shut the door to his room. âYouâre missing my entire point, Callie,â she responded, using her nickname for him on purpose, though she wasnât sure if it was to piss him off more or to get him to give in a little. âYou thinking Iâm scared of commitment is still you saying Iâm gonna fuck it up. You havenât been --â Elleâs voice caught in her throat for a moment, hesitating over what she really wanted to say, afraid of how it might be taken by him. She didnât actually want to hurt him, but the truth was she was her own person now, and sheâd lived on her own without him around at all. Sheâd done just fine for herself, as far as she was concerned. âItâs not that I donât want your advice, itâs that you donât trust me and youâre acting like Iâm some sort of slut for this, and Iâm not okay with that coming from you or anyone else. Iâm twenty eight fucking years old, Cal, Iâm not a little girl anymore. You wanna give me advice? Do it without treating me like Iâm dirt in the process.â âFine.â âFine.â Elle wanted more than just fine (like an apology, for example), but she didnât think it was likely. âThank you.â All Cal gave her in return, was a quiet grunt, still staring out the window, but not seeing the buildings going by. He wasnât seeing much of anything, eyes unfocused, sinking into himself and shutting out the rest of the world. His mind drifted to all of her visits to him in the hospital and then the rehab center, all her calls and Skype sessions (whenever they had a good enough connection). But her words, though unsaid, hadnât been ignored. She was right. He knew what she was about to say: He hadnât been around. He hadnât been here, or anywhere she was, in almost twenty years, between West Point, OCS, and then deployment. Heâd come back in between tours if he couldnât find an excuse not to, but as heâd progressed through the ranks heâd been more and more able to find somewhere else, usually training or teaching the next generation of recruits until his next tour. Perhaps he had no right to voice an opinion. He was angry at her; she could tell. Or still disappointed. Maybe a combination of the two. Cal was hard to read now, despite all of the time they spent talking and writing to each other. It hadnât been the same as actually being present, actually sharing the same space, and so Elle often second-guessed his facial expressions or moods. That was even more true after his injury. She didnât want to treat him like he was fragile, but the truth was she didnât know him any more than he knew her. The truth was they both had a lot to learn about each other. After the rest of the car ride back to her (no, their) apartment finished in uncomfortable silence, Elle couldnât take it anymore. She turned the car off, but she didnât make a move to get out right away. âI love you, you know,â she said, turning to look at him fully for the first time since before their fight in the store. âAnd your opinionâs always meant more to me than basically anyone elseâs. Way more than Mom and Dadâs. If you want to leave, then Iâm not gonna force you to stay, but I want you here. Okay?â When Cal turned to look at her again, his blue eyes were like ice -- not with anger, but with emptiness. He'd fallen down a hole that was hard to climb out of on his own. But he smiled for her, and it nearly managed to warm his eyes. Nearly. âI love you, too, Ellie. I'll stay.â He reached out and patted her shoulder before unbuckling and forcing a pleasant tone. âCâmon, let's get these birds in the fridge. We can take them to Mom's tomorrow, if you want. She's got that huge freezer in the basement still, right?â This wasnât over, nor had she forgiven him -- not by a long shot -- but Elle knew she needed space before bringing it up again and trying to work through everything that had been unleashed. She knew he did, too. The best she could do for them was stick to the subject change. She smiled weakly. âYeah, thatâs still there. Iâll text her so she knows weâre coming.â Theyâd be okay, right? She had to believe that, otherwise she wasnât sure what sheâd have left. |