It was one of the many reasons why I'd loved her.
Elliot let her go, but slipped her hand down Sadie's arm to hold her hand. "The room is coming along. What can I help with?"
Sophie glanced over the room. "I was just going to go upstairs to gather up some of his things to bring down."
"Great, I'll come with you." She unbuttoned her coat, her eyes finding mine for a fraction of a second before she followed my sisters. That tiny sliver of time could have been a year for what it did to me.
"I need some air," I grumbled, my heart drumming in my ribs as I blew past the girls, down the stairs, and to the backyard.
Yard was a generous word to use — it was a twenty-by-twelve patch of concrete and brick with an outdoor couch and two chairs, lined with bushes and flowers. But in Manhattan, it might as well have been an acre.
I couldn't sit, not with a hundred thoughts of Elliot zinging through my head. So, I paced. Confusion, that was the primary emotion. Having her there, seeing her, remembering her … it stirred everything in me that I worked so hard to keep down. Regret. Love. Longing. And now of all times when I had no reserve energy? When I needed everything I had in me to keep my mask in place so that I could bear the days to come?
I felt exposed, thin, too small to contain all of the things I felt, too weak to fix a single thing.
But I had to find a way. I had to, not only for Sophie, who I'd promised, but for my father. He needed her here as much as he needed the rest of us. She was one of us, part of us. Part of me.
That was the part I couldn't process. That after all this time, after all the lies I'd told myself, she was a part of me. It was as fresh now as it was the day we said goodbye, and I hated myself for my weakness.
Elliot was a shock to my nervous system, a bucket of ice water down my back, and the clarity it brought stung all the way to my bones.
I'd read an article once about a theory that when adults returned home, the family slipped back into their old dynamic. I'd found it to be true — Sophie would call me a know-it-all and I'd call her immature. Sadie would turn into a fawn, deferring to me for everything, telling me about her life with the same enthusiasm she had when she was five. And being around Elliot took me back to the years I loved her.
But I didn't want to love her anymore. I didn't want to hurt anymore.
My phone rang in my pocket, and I pulled it out, answering without looking.
"Hello?" I snapped.
"Hey, man."
"Ben," I said, relieved to hear his voice, sighing as I raked a hand through my hair. "Sorry, didn't know it was you." I paced the length of the yard.
"Well, I'd hate to be whoever you thought I was."
I chuckled at that, just a puff of a sound.
"How are you holding up?"
The truth was that there wasn't enough time and there weren't enough words in the English language. "As well as I can. What time is it there?"
"Eleven."
"Late."
"Nah, not too bad. Hadn't heard from you today. Figured I'd check up on you."
"Thoughtful," I said, almost smiling.
"Well, I'm nothing if not thoughtful. And kind. And well-mannered."
That elicited a snort out of me.
"What? I'm well-mannered."
He'd done it. I smiled. "You eat like a hog."
"Only when it's MREs. You can't take too long to eat them or you'll start thinking about what you're putting in your body and gag."
"Aw, come on. Cheese tortellini isn't so bad."
"It is when it's got sand in it. And everything in Afghanistan has sand in it."
I chuckled. "Well, at least we're in Germany now. Nothing but beer and brats as far as the eye can see."
"I'll take it." He paused for a moment. "How's he doing?"
A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed it. "He's okay. We're getting the house ready for him … he'll be home in the morning."
"And your sisters?"
"They're …" I sighed, feeling tired. "We're a mess, Ben. All of us. And the only thing we can do is take every day from breath to breath."
He sighed too. "You know, I've got plenty of leave saved up, and I'm sure I can get Sanders to approve me, if you want me to come. I think I can be there in a couple of days. All you have to do is say the word."
I slowed my pace and sat down, dropping my head into my free palm. "There's no point in you suffering through all of this too. I can't give you any of my energy if you're here. I'm already on reserve as it is."
"Psh, I'm easy — all I need are three hots and a cot."
It might have been nice, having him there as a buffer, but I couldn't accept the offer no matter how much it could help. He didn't need this in his life. "I'll be all right. But thanks, Ben. I appreciate it."
"Anytime," he said, sounding a little disappointed. "If you change your mind, just let me know."
"I will."
"So how is it, being back in the States?"
I looked around at my childhood home, feeling nostalgic and out of place. "It's weird. It's always weird."
"Feels like another life." He paused for a second, and I wondered warily what he was about to say. "So, have you seen her?"
Even without hearing her name, she invaded my mind. And Ben knew. He knew all about her, knew about us, knew she was friends with Sophie and all about her relationship with my dad. He knew everything about me — we'd been together since my first tour in Afghanistan.
He was my best friend. My only friend.
"She's here right now," I answered.