Breathe For Me (For Me 1: Xander)

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

"Where are you?" Xander frowned, vastly relieved at the same time. She'd finally answered her phone. The first seven calls had gone to her message service. He'd resorted to checking her Twitterfeed. She'd maintained regular updates, he'd thought she was still in town at least. But he'd been down to the pop-up and to Wroxton, and she wasn't at either place. Neither Luisa nor Steve knew where she'd gone or when she'd be back. So he asked. "You've gone away?"

He held his breath for her reply. She might have finally talked, but he didn't know if he could handle the true cost. He wasn't ready for this to be over.

"You go away," she said lightly.

But he could hear the defensive note. "At least I tell you."

"It was a last minute thing." She brushed him off. "Don't worry. I'll be back soon."

Of course he was worried, he could hear the stress in her voice. She was beating herself up and he couldn't find her to help her. Hell, he didn't know how to help her. He'd screwed up the first chance already and he didn't know if he was going to get another. "When?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"What about the pop-up?"

"Luisa will cover me."

"Okay," he said shortly. "Have a good trip."

There was a micro-pause. "Thanks."

She disconnected before he could sayanything else. His muscles tensed, talking to her hadn't eased his concern at all. She was nervous. Why? He wanted her to tell him everything. To try again. He'd listen hard this time, try to help in whatever way she needed. He knew it wasn't fair of him when he didn't tell her everything. But there were things he told no one. Could never, ever tell.

So now he faced the prospect of who knew how long without her. All the next few nights alone. He could go away too. He could schedule in a work trip or something. But he didn't move from the sofa. His apartment felt stupidly huge and cool and empty. He liked hers better. He missed the plants and the scent and the cramped delight.

Most of all he missed her.

Shit. He'd really fucked up.

Chelsea wiped her hands along the seams of her skirt before knocking on the door. It opened immediately. She'd rung ahead and made sure she was home alone. No way could she say this with Tom's father present.

But Xander, for all his bluntness, had been right. She didn't talk honestly to anyone. She didn't explain what she needed or really how she felt. So she'd already been to see her mom and told her the full truth about that night. Told her that she needed understanding in learning to move on. That she needed more space--but at the same time more support in other ways. Initially her mother had wanted to come with her now, but Chelsea had refused. And then her mom got it and let her go. She needed to do this herself.

"Chelsea!" Helen, Tom's mother, enveloped her in a hug. "It's so good to see you. You're looking so well."

Chelsea couldn't prevent the tears instantly stinging her eyes. This was going to be so hard. But she'd told one person the truth, she could tell another. It was too important not to. She had  to--to try to find peace.

Helen looked at her and immediately moved back towards the open door. "Come in. Come on, we'll have a drink. It's been so long."

She already had refreshments ready--a jug of iced tea on the table, as polite and perfect and kind as always. They talked for a couple of minutes--those easy icebreaker questions about Chelsea's time in New York, what she was working on there. But neither went in depth in answering.