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The next day, my sister and I braved going home for the holidays. She artfully covered the slight yellowing of my bruise with makeup, and vowed that she wouldn't mention the accident to mom or dad; they'd never let me come back to Seattle.
Before I left my bedroom, I rifled through my dresser for the hundredth time, looking for the necklace that Kellan had given me. Every day I wanted to wear it, wear a piece of him with me, since I hadn't seen him in so long, but I hadn't been able to find it since the night he'd given it to me. A part of me feared that it had been lost or stolen in the fiasco. A part of me feared that Kellan had decided to take it back. That would almost be the worst scenario. It would be like he was taking back his heart.
I still couldn't find it, and had to leave the city without my symbolic representation of him. . . and it cut deep to do so.
Home with my family was odd. It was warm and welcoming and a barrage of childhood memories hit me, but it didn't feel like "home" anymore. It felt like I was walking into a best friend's house, or an aunt's house. Somewhere comfortable and familiar, but still a little foreign. It had the overall vibe of childhood safety, but I felt no desire to stay and wrap myself in that feeling. I wanted to be home. . . my home.
We stayed a couple days after the holidays and then, my sister even itchier than me, we said tearful goodbyes to our parents at the airport. My mother was a blubbering mess as she watched her two girls depart, and I momentarily felt bad that my heart was anchored so far away from them. I'd told myself that I'd just fallen hopelessly in love with the city. . . but a tiny part of my brain, that I forcefully ignored, knew that wasn't it. A place was just a place. And it wasn't the city that made my heart pulse and my breath quicken. It wasn't the city that drove me to distraction, and left me sobbing in the still of the night.
After my frantic catch-up on schoolwork over the holiday break, and wistfully watching my sister duck out on New Year's Eve for a special D-Bag performance that twisted my heart into knots, I focused on the second most important thing I needed to get squared away - a job. What I ended up getting, early on in the New Year, was a waitressing job at a popular little diner in Pioneer Square, where Jenny's roommate Rachel worked. The place was famous for its all night breakfast, I guess, and drew quite a crowd of college kids. It was hopping busy on my first night there, but Rachel gleefully showed me the ropes.
Rachel was an interesting mix of Asian and Latin with latte skin and mocha hair, and a smile that charmed quite a few frat boys out of some large bills. She was as sweet as Jenny, but quiet like me. She didn't ask about my injury and even though she had to know the whole torrid love triangle (being Jenny's roommate and all), she never once commented on my romances. Her quiet was soothing.
I fell into my new job easily enough. Along with great managers and amusing cooks, the tips were good there, the other waitresses welcoming, and the regulars were patient. It didn't take me too long to feel moderately comfortable in my new home.
Of course, I missed Pete's like crazy. I missed the smell of the bar. I missed Scott in the kitchen, even though I didn't really spend too much time with him. I missed talking and laughing with Jenny and Kate. I missed dancing to the music from the jukebox. I even missed horny Rita, and her never-ending stories that made me blush all over. But of course, what I missed the most about Pete's, was the entertainment.
I saw Griffin repeatedly, as he came over often to "entertain" my sister. Actually, I saw way more of him than I ever wanted to see. In fact, I now know that he has a piercing in a spot that I'd never imagine a guy voluntarily asking someone to push a needle through. I considered scrubbing out my eyes after that little naked encounter in the hallway, one evening.
Matt would occasionally stop by with him, and we'd chat quietly. I'd ask how the band was going, and he'd start talking about instruments and gear and songs and melodies and shows that went really well and a few places that he'd managed to line up gigs, and on and on about the business end of it. Not exactly what I wanted to hear about, but I nodded and politely listened to him, watching his pale eyes sparkle as he talked about the love of his life. I was glad after talking to him, that Kellan hadn't left Seattle; Matt would be crushed if their little band broke up. He really believed that they had a shot at going big one day. Thinking over their performances, with a painful tug in my heart, I did agree. With Kellan as their front man. . . they could go all the way.
Sometimes Matt and my sister would talk about Kellan, only to stop when I entered the room. One such conversation left an icy pit in my stomach. I'd just quietly cracked open the front door and heard them talking in the kitchen. I heard Matt's soft voice finishing telling her, ". . . right over his heart. Romantic, huh?"
"What's romantic?" I muttered, as I walked into the room, thinking they were surely talking about Griffin, although, I couldn't imagine what he'd do that was "romantic". I grabbed a glass and started filling it with water, when I finally noticed the awkward silence suddenly in the room.
Pausing, I noticed my sister staring at the floor, biting her lip, and Matt looking out into the living room, like he really wanted to be over there. That was when I understood that they weren't talking about Griffin. They were talking about Kellan.
"What's romantic?" I said automatically, even as my stomach clenched. Had he moved on?
Anna and Matt looked briefly at each other for a second, before simultaneously saying, "Nothing. " I set down the glass and left the room. Whatever romantic gesture he'd done, I didn't want to hear it anyway. I didn't want to think about who he was with now, about who he was "dating". Whatever romantic thing he had done for a girl -some girl not being me - I didn't want to ever hear about it.
Surprisingly, I ran into Evan at school. Aside from work, school was really the only other place I went. I spent every free moment there, studying, and quite honestly, busing my head, to stop the gnawing ache in my heart. I'd been coming out of one of the impressive brick buildings, lost in painful thoughts I shouldn't have been thinking about anyway, when I'd nearly run right into him. His warm, brown eyes had widened and glowed at seeing me, and then he lifted me into a massive bear hug and I giggled until he let go.
Apparently, Evan was a big fan of people-watching on the campus. He loved hanging around the school, and had even made Kellan take the freshman tour with him nearly a half dozen times, a couple of years ago. With a small grin, Evan confessed to me that he'd had a huge crush on the girl giving the tour at the time. Surprise flashed through me, as I realized that that was how Kellan knew so much about the campus. He had certainly been with girls here, but the majority of his intimate knowledge, was because of Evan dragging him on the same tour that I'd drug him on.
That thought made my eyes water, and Evan's happy face looked over me with a trace of concern in it. "Are you alright, Kiera?" I tried to nod and that only made my eyes water more. Evan sighed and brought me back in for another hug. "He misses you," he whispered.
I startled and pulled away at that. Evan shrugged. "He acts like he doesn't. . . but I can tell. He's not Kellan. He's moody and writes a lot, and snaps at people, and drinks a lot, and. . . " He stopped talking and cocked his head. "Okay, well, maybe he's still Kellan. " He grinned as I managed a half-laugh. "But he really misses you. You should see what he. . . "
He stopped talking again and bit his lip. "Anyway, just know that he hasn't moved on or anything. " A tear fell on my cheek as I wondered if that was true, or if Evan was just trying to make me feel better. He tenderly brushed the tear away. "Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said anything. "
I shook my head and swallowed. "No, it's okay. No one will really talk about him in front of me, like I'm porcelain or something. It's good to hear about him. I miss him too. "
He cocked his head at me and his brown eyes turned unusually serious. "He told me how much he loved you. How much you meant to him. " Another tear threatened to fall, and I brushed my lid to halt it. His face blushed curiously as I sni
ffled. "That night. . . that I kinda. . . walked in on you. I really didn't see anything," he quickly added. I blushed in kind, and he looked at the pavement for a moment.
"He told me once about his childhood. . . about his parents' abuse. " My mouth dropped open as I gaped at him. I got the impression that he didn't talk about that with anyone. Evan seemed to understand my expression and smiled grimly. "I figured he told you. With me. . . he was really drunk. I don't think he even remembers telling me. It was right after they died. . . when he saw the house. " He raised an eyebrow at me. "You know that's not his childhood home, right?"
I frowned and shook my head, I hadn't known that. He nodded and sniffed. "Yeah, we were playing bars in LA, once we got together with Matt and Griffin, doing pretty good too, made a name for ourselves down there. Then. . . well, I still remember the day his Aunt called, and told him they'd both been killed. He dropped everything and drove up here that night. We followed him, of course. "
He looked down at the pavement and shook his head. "I don't think he ever really understood why we did that, why we moved here with him. I don't think he grasped that we believed in him, and loved him, like family. I still don't think he grasps that. I think that's why he thought he could ditch town without telling us. " He shook his head again. "He said he thought we wouldn't care, that we'd just replace him. " I cringed that Kellan had been going to bail on them, because of me, and was a little surprised that Kellan thought he was so easy to replace. That word sounded so wrong in reference to him.
After a silent moment, Evan looked back up at me with an eyebrow raised. "Of course, his version of family is a little. . . skewed. " I nodded at that, and thought over just how twisted Kellan's version of love had been, for most of his life. Evan cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, they left him everything they had, even the house. He seemed really surprised that they would do that, but he was even more surprised when he saw the house. . . and realized they'd moved. "
Evan looked out over the campus, his eyes speculative and sad for his friend. "They never even bothered to tell him that they'd sold the home he'd grown up in. That they'd moved across town. And then. . . he found out that they'd tossed out all of his stuff. And I mean, everything, there wasn't a single trace of him in that house, not even a picture. I think that's why he tossed out everything of theirs. "
My breath caught as I realized that was why Kellan's house was so barren when we first moved in. It wasn't just that he didn't care about decorations, which I'm pretty sure he didn't. It was mainly because he had inherited a home that was completely foreign to him, and then out of anger or resentment, or both, tossed everything of his parent's. . . everything. He'd left no trace of them in his life, really he'd left no trace of any life in his life, until I'd come in and thrust mine upon him. His never-ending pain made my heart thud loudly in my chest as I ached with sympathy for him.
Evan sniffed again as he looked back to me, another tear rolling down my cheek as I was too stunned from his revelation to wipe it away. "They were real bastards, but. . . their death still really affected him. He got really ripped and told me about what they used to do to him. Some of his stories. . . " Evan closed his eyes and shook his head, a light shudder running through him.
I closed my eyes as well as I thought over all the conversations I'd had with Kellan about his childhood. He'd never gone into specifics with me, about just what his father used to do to him. From the look on Evan's face, I'm guessing he'd gone into some pretty horrific details, and it had really affected Evan. I was both grateful I didn't know, and curious to know, those details.
When he reopened his eyes, they shone with compassion for his friend. "He must not have grown up around a whole lot of love. I kind of think that's why he screwed around so much. I know that sounds weird, but. . . he's always seemed a little different in the way he went after women. " He scrunched his brows as he unknowingly correctly analyzed his band mate. "He's not just a horn ball like Griffin. He was almost. . . desperate to connect with someone. Like, he really wanted to love somebody. . . he just didn't know how. "