Well Built
Page 43
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“Dad!” Ella called out in alarm.
Shit, was the guy having another stroke? Instinctively, Kyle reached out and caught the man’s arm before he could hit the wall, and in the next instant, Ella was next to her father, tucking herself under Charles’ arm and guiding him down the hallway to the living room.
“Dad, you need to take deep breaths,” she said, her voice quivering with worry and fear, even as she took control of the situation.
“I want him out of my house,” Charles wheezed as Ella sat him down in a leather recliner, then she pulled a drawer open on the end table and retrieved a bottle of pills.
Kyle had no idea what was going on, and despite the older man’s insistent orders for him to get out, Kyle wasn’t about to leave until he knew everything was okay. “Let me call the paramedics,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.
“He’ll be fine,” Ella snapped at him, stopping Kyle before he could connect the call to 911. “He’s not having a stroke. He’s having an anxiety attack. He’ll be okay once he calms down.”
From Kyle’s perspective, it looked equally bad, and he couldn’t stop the twinge of guilt for pushing the man to his breaking point. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” she said, her voice as flat as the look in her eyes as she assisted her father in taking his meds. “You can’t be here, Kyle. You need to go. Now.”
Everything inside of Kyle went ice-cold, her words taking him straight back to the night when he’d lost Ella the first time, and the similar demand she’d made then, too: The only thing I want right now is for you to get out of my life.
The only thing missing was a slap to his face.
Without another word, he walked out the front door. He headed back to his mother’s, picked up the duffel bag of belongings he’d brought with him for the weekend, gave his mom a quick explanation of what had happened, then drove to his condo in the city.
Ella had made her choice, and it wasn’t him.
Chapter Twelve
He wasn’t coming back.
Almost a week later, the realization still hurt Ella’s heart as she stood inside of the beautiful new store that Kyle had not only built for her but had selflessly given to her. All because he wanted her to be happy. To have something that was her very own.
She couldn’t have been more miserable and devastated. The constant heartache was so bad she couldn’t even bring herself to go forward with her plans to call all the artisans in the area to bring in their merchandise to fill up the displays and shelves, because none of this meant anything to Ella if she didn’t have that one certain person to share the joys and successes with.
No, she’d royally screwed up any chance of a future she could have had with Kyle. She’d let her father influence her choices once again, and she’d lost the one man who knew her so well. The only man who’d cared deeply for her, protected her, loved her unconditionally, and had given her so much without getting anything in return. Or at least not what he deserved—her love.
And she did love Kyle. So much it was painful to breathe knowing she might not ever see him again. That she’d have to live the rest of her life knowing that he’d come to the conclusion that she wasn’t worth the hassle, because for the second time in ten years, she’d pushed him away when things had gotten rough, instead of leaning on him and trusting him with her heart.
And now, she was alone. Again.
“You know, Kyle would want you to put this store to good use instead of leaving it empty.”
Ella jumped at the sound of Patricia Coleman’s voice behind her, and she turned around, not all that surprised to see Kyle’s mother standing there in a frilly pink baking apron, her gaze both kind and sympathetic. The other woman had been crazy busy getting ready for her big grand opening, and the fact that she’d taken the time to come and check on Ella spoke to the kind of thoughtful woman she was—a trait that her younger son had emulated.
“How could something I’ve always wanted and dreamed of be such a painful reminder of everything I’ve lost?” Her voice was tight and scratchy from all her late-night crying jags, when the impact of what she’d done hit her hard.
Patricia moved into the store and closer to Ella. “Honey, it doesn’t have to be that way.”
Ella gave the other woman a sad smile. “Well, I’m not sure that Kyle can forgive me for what I did and what I said.” The devastation on his face when she’d told him to leave her house after her father’s anxiety attack was something she’d never be able to erase from her mind.
“Oh, I think you’d be surprised,” Patricia said, absently smoothing her hand over the apron she was wearing. “That boy of mine has a heart as big as this state, and I know he’s crazy about you. He always has been. And still is.”
A lump rose in Ella’s throat, because she felt the same way about Kyle. Without a doubt, that man was her soul mate. The one person who knew her inside and out and loved her anyway. He was her other half that had been missing for ten long years, and the thought of going through the rest of her life without him was pure agony.
“Last Saturday night, before he left to go back to the city, he told me to look after you,” Patricia said, gently placing her hand on Ella’s arm. “He wanted to make sure that you were okay after everything that had happened. But I know you’re not. You look as heartbroken as he sounds when I talk to him on the phone. You two belong together. You always have and you always will. Some things are just meant to be.”
Ella laughed derisively. “Trying tell that to my father.”
“I would if you’d let me,” Patricia said, her eyes sparkling mischievously before she turned serious once again. “I think some people find it easier to hold on to anger and resentments instead of letting them go, and a lot of people suffer for that, including you and Kyle. I also think that maybe your father just needs someone to blame for Gwen’s . . . behavior,” she said, being polite about the reputation Ella’s sister had around town, “and what happened with her pregnancy and miscarriage.”
Gwen certainly hadn’t been an angel in that situation, but the one thing Ella had learned over the years was that her father refused to think of Gwen as, well, the slut she’d been—and still was. It was a painful pill for any father to swallow or accept, and even now, he still wanted to believe that Gwen was just misunderstood.
Shit, was the guy having another stroke? Instinctively, Kyle reached out and caught the man’s arm before he could hit the wall, and in the next instant, Ella was next to her father, tucking herself under Charles’ arm and guiding him down the hallway to the living room.
“Dad, you need to take deep breaths,” she said, her voice quivering with worry and fear, even as she took control of the situation.
“I want him out of my house,” Charles wheezed as Ella sat him down in a leather recliner, then she pulled a drawer open on the end table and retrieved a bottle of pills.
Kyle had no idea what was going on, and despite the older man’s insistent orders for him to get out, Kyle wasn’t about to leave until he knew everything was okay. “Let me call the paramedics,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.
“He’ll be fine,” Ella snapped at him, stopping Kyle before he could connect the call to 911. “He’s not having a stroke. He’s having an anxiety attack. He’ll be okay once he calms down.”
From Kyle’s perspective, it looked equally bad, and he couldn’t stop the twinge of guilt for pushing the man to his breaking point. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” she said, her voice as flat as the look in her eyes as she assisted her father in taking his meds. “You can’t be here, Kyle. You need to go. Now.”
Everything inside of Kyle went ice-cold, her words taking him straight back to the night when he’d lost Ella the first time, and the similar demand she’d made then, too: The only thing I want right now is for you to get out of my life.
The only thing missing was a slap to his face.
Without another word, he walked out the front door. He headed back to his mother’s, picked up the duffel bag of belongings he’d brought with him for the weekend, gave his mom a quick explanation of what had happened, then drove to his condo in the city.
Ella had made her choice, and it wasn’t him.
Chapter Twelve
He wasn’t coming back.
Almost a week later, the realization still hurt Ella’s heart as she stood inside of the beautiful new store that Kyle had not only built for her but had selflessly given to her. All because he wanted her to be happy. To have something that was her very own.
She couldn’t have been more miserable and devastated. The constant heartache was so bad she couldn’t even bring herself to go forward with her plans to call all the artisans in the area to bring in their merchandise to fill up the displays and shelves, because none of this meant anything to Ella if she didn’t have that one certain person to share the joys and successes with.
No, she’d royally screwed up any chance of a future she could have had with Kyle. She’d let her father influence her choices once again, and she’d lost the one man who knew her so well. The only man who’d cared deeply for her, protected her, loved her unconditionally, and had given her so much without getting anything in return. Or at least not what he deserved—her love.
And she did love Kyle. So much it was painful to breathe knowing she might not ever see him again. That she’d have to live the rest of her life knowing that he’d come to the conclusion that she wasn’t worth the hassle, because for the second time in ten years, she’d pushed him away when things had gotten rough, instead of leaning on him and trusting him with her heart.
And now, she was alone. Again.
“You know, Kyle would want you to put this store to good use instead of leaving it empty.”
Ella jumped at the sound of Patricia Coleman’s voice behind her, and she turned around, not all that surprised to see Kyle’s mother standing there in a frilly pink baking apron, her gaze both kind and sympathetic. The other woman had been crazy busy getting ready for her big grand opening, and the fact that she’d taken the time to come and check on Ella spoke to the kind of thoughtful woman she was—a trait that her younger son had emulated.
“How could something I’ve always wanted and dreamed of be such a painful reminder of everything I’ve lost?” Her voice was tight and scratchy from all her late-night crying jags, when the impact of what she’d done hit her hard.
Patricia moved into the store and closer to Ella. “Honey, it doesn’t have to be that way.”
Ella gave the other woman a sad smile. “Well, I’m not sure that Kyle can forgive me for what I did and what I said.” The devastation on his face when she’d told him to leave her house after her father’s anxiety attack was something she’d never be able to erase from her mind.
“Oh, I think you’d be surprised,” Patricia said, absently smoothing her hand over the apron she was wearing. “That boy of mine has a heart as big as this state, and I know he’s crazy about you. He always has been. And still is.”
A lump rose in Ella’s throat, because she felt the same way about Kyle. Without a doubt, that man was her soul mate. The one person who knew her inside and out and loved her anyway. He was her other half that had been missing for ten long years, and the thought of going through the rest of her life without him was pure agony.
“Last Saturday night, before he left to go back to the city, he told me to look after you,” Patricia said, gently placing her hand on Ella’s arm. “He wanted to make sure that you were okay after everything that had happened. But I know you’re not. You look as heartbroken as he sounds when I talk to him on the phone. You two belong together. You always have and you always will. Some things are just meant to be.”
Ella laughed derisively. “Trying tell that to my father.”
“I would if you’d let me,” Patricia said, her eyes sparkling mischievously before she turned serious once again. “I think some people find it easier to hold on to anger and resentments instead of letting them go, and a lot of people suffer for that, including you and Kyle. I also think that maybe your father just needs someone to blame for Gwen’s . . . behavior,” she said, being polite about the reputation Ella’s sister had around town, “and what happened with her pregnancy and miscarriage.”
Gwen certainly hadn’t been an angel in that situation, but the one thing Ella had learned over the years was that her father refused to think of Gwen as, well, the slut she’d been—and still was. It was a painful pill for any father to swallow or accept, and even now, he still wanted to believe that Gwen was just misunderstood.
