More Than Enough (A Completed Novella)

CHAPTER 7

Henry stood in pet food aisle of the grocery store and hated himself. Hated himself for waffling. Hated himself for the guilt, and the blame, and all the dumb shit in his brain.

He couldn't get Ellen saying she just wanted to be happy out of his head. Happy. He was trying to remember the last time he'd let himself be that way, and he…couldn't. Any happiness usually got squashed by the fact he was here to enjoy it and Ken wasn't.

All because he'd made a mistake.

Well, they'd both made mistakes, hadn't they?

Henry cursed under his breath, grabbed a stupid bag of cat treats and threw it into his cart. He went through the self checkout, grumbling at himself the entire time. People probably thought he was nuts.

Considering he was planning on going to Ellen's house when he got back, they wouldn't be wrong.

He drove back to his place, having no idea what he was going to say or do. Nerves churned in his gut, but so did something else. Something foreign and dangerous.

Excitement.

Shit.

He pulled his truck next to his side of the building, grabbed his bag and then marched over to Ellen's side. This didn't have to be anything about the attraction stuff. They were friends, and he cared about what happened to her.

That was it.

Sure it is, buddy.

He pounded on the door, venting some of his frustration.

Ellen opened, her expression blank. Which…never happened. And actually made him pause enough to lose whatever momentum he'd had storming up here.

"Can I help you?"

"In a million ways, probably."

The blankness faded into a smile. "A million, huh?"

Yeesh, he wished he hadn't said that, but might as well keep going. "I hate having you next door and pretending like we don't know each other."

She crossed her arms over her chest, chin up, resolute. Sexy. "I hate it, too, but I'm not going to pretend I don't feel more than friendly toward you."

"You don't even know me."

She smiled at that. "I know so much about you, Henry Peterson. Maybe not everything, but I've known you longer than almost anyone. Maybe you didn't always pay attention to me, but I always paid attention to you."

She uncrossed her arms, then rested her hands on his chest, fingertips brushing the fabric of his shirt, making everything in his brain short circuit.

"I know you're kind and generous and loyal to a fault. And I think the reason you're so bound and determined to feel guilty is because you feel so deeply. And you miss him. And you want there to be a reason he's gone, even if you're the reason."

"I'm part of the reason."

"Maybe. Maybe not. We'll never really know. Maybe there's no reason. No one at fault. Maybe it just happened. A stupid, senseless tragedy we can't change. No matter how much we run, how much we blame, how much we wallow. It doesn't go away."