dance program her parents couldn't attend because it was the anniversary of Ken's death, he'd scrimped and saved to drive to Pennsylvania and see her.
He felt he'd owed it to her, to Ken, to her parents. Then he'd gotten there and she'd been…beautiful. Grown up. It was the first time, really the first time he'd seen her as something other than Ken's little sister.
And he'd hated himself for it. He still hated himself for it, for having an erection over the memory, over her pressed next to him. Everything about wanting her was wrong. She refused to see it, but he couldn't let himself be blinded by Ellen's exuberance for life.
Ken had had the same kind of cheery goodwill. Everything was good. Everything worked out. Until your best friend didn't take your keys away and you drove yourself into a tree and died.
Ellen needed to stay away from him, to preserve that happy goodness about her. Henry would never… He ended things like that.
He scooted again, opened his mouth to tell her to go.
But she smiled and spoke first. "I don't know if I told you at the time, how much that meant. Having someone there." Her hand rested on his thigh.
This was an invitation, and his body wanted to accept, was so ready to accept.
But he always led with his brain when it came to Ellen. He had to, because his body was a lying asshole.
"You should go," he said abruptly, pushing himself off the couch.
She cocked her head and studied him. Her gaze dropped to his crotch and her mouth curved.
Oh, Christ.
Then she unfolded herself from the couch and crossed to him. "I think, I really think I should stay." She reached up and brushed her fingers across his beard.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face. It took way too much willpower to let go of her arm. He wanted to feel the pulse pumping through her. Feel her.
But she didn't seem to understand the edge he was on, because she stepped into him, pressing against him. "You don't have to push me away, Henry. I don't want you to push me away."
But he had to, so he did. Took her by the shoulders and moved her back and away from him. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish. You want me to admit I'm attracted to you? Fine. I admit that. But that doesn't make you any less Ken's sister. Any less the daughter of people who hate me. Nothing like this can happen, Ellen. I don't understand why you're pushing it."
"Because none of that matters."
It was enough of a slap in the face for him to be able to move out of her reach. Shut it all down. "You're very, very wrong about that. What happened matters. It will always matter."
"I know. It's the one thing that defines all our lives. This tragedy, and don't ever think I believe it wasn't a tragedy, but I am here, Henry. Me." She slapped her palm to her chest, eyes shiny and fierce. "I am living and have to keep living and so do you. Why should tragedy and pain be the only thing we let in?"
She was standing too close. Everything was too close to the surface. He wanted to push her away, or hold her close, and because he was torn between the two, he just stood there.
"Kiss me, Henry. Please…let yourself have something."
"I most certainly shouldn't have you."
"You should have what you want. We both should. And I want you."
"I can't." And he couldn't. It would be…betrayal. And wrong, no matter how right it felt. "You should leave. I don't just mean my apartment. You shouldn't be living next to me. Move on to the next thing, Ellen. Find somewhere you belong. It isn't here."
"You don't get to decide where I belong," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I'm not moving. I'm not walking away. You know why? Because I'm alive and I have all the choices he doesn't. Stripping yourself of choices and friends and joy is a slap to Ken's face, not penance for your…mistake."
That burned, a searing pain he'd felt so many times since Ken's death. Painful enough to snap at her, even if he was afraid she was right.
He felt he'd owed it to her, to Ken, to her parents. Then he'd gotten there and she'd been…beautiful. Grown up. It was the first time, really the first time he'd seen her as something other than Ken's little sister.
And he'd hated himself for it. He still hated himself for it, for having an erection over the memory, over her pressed next to him. Everything about wanting her was wrong. She refused to see it, but he couldn't let himself be blinded by Ellen's exuberance for life.
Ken had had the same kind of cheery goodwill. Everything was good. Everything worked out. Until your best friend didn't take your keys away and you drove yourself into a tree and died.
Ellen needed to stay away from him, to preserve that happy goodness about her. Henry would never… He ended things like that.
He scooted again, opened his mouth to tell her to go.
But she smiled and spoke first. "I don't know if I told you at the time, how much that meant. Having someone there." Her hand rested on his thigh.
This was an invitation, and his body wanted to accept, was so ready to accept.
But he always led with his brain when it came to Ellen. He had to, because his body was a lying asshole.
"You should go," he said abruptly, pushing himself off the couch.
She cocked her head and studied him. Her gaze dropped to his crotch and her mouth curved.
Oh, Christ.
Then she unfolded herself from the couch and crossed to him. "I think, I really think I should stay." She reached up and brushed her fingers across his beard.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face. It took way too much willpower to let go of her arm. He wanted to feel the pulse pumping through her. Feel her.
But she didn't seem to understand the edge he was on, because she stepped into him, pressing against him. "You don't have to push me away, Henry. I don't want you to push me away."
But he had to, so he did. Took her by the shoulders and moved her back and away from him. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish. You want me to admit I'm attracted to you? Fine. I admit that. But that doesn't make you any less Ken's sister. Any less the daughter of people who hate me. Nothing like this can happen, Ellen. I don't understand why you're pushing it."
"Because none of that matters."
It was enough of a slap in the face for him to be able to move out of her reach. Shut it all down. "You're very, very wrong about that. What happened matters. It will always matter."
"I know. It's the one thing that defines all our lives. This tragedy, and don't ever think I believe it wasn't a tragedy, but I am here, Henry. Me." She slapped her palm to her chest, eyes shiny and fierce. "I am living and have to keep living and so do you. Why should tragedy and pain be the only thing we let in?"
She was standing too close. Everything was too close to the surface. He wanted to push her away, or hold her close, and because he was torn between the two, he just stood there.
"Kiss me, Henry. Please…let yourself have something."
"I most certainly shouldn't have you."
"You should have what you want. We both should. And I want you."
"I can't." And he couldn't. It would be…betrayal. And wrong, no matter how right it felt. "You should leave. I don't just mean my apartment. You shouldn't be living next to me. Move on to the next thing, Ellen. Find somewhere you belong. It isn't here."
"You don't get to decide where I belong," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I'm not moving. I'm not walking away. You know why? Because I'm alive and I have all the choices he doesn't. Stripping yourself of choices and friends and joy is a slap to Ken's face, not penance for your…mistake."
That burned, a searing pain he'd felt so many times since Ken's death. Painful enough to snap at her, even if he was afraid she was right.
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