Another new thought, Chance as an underprivileged kid. If they’d scrimped and saved to put food on the table, that, too, probably explained his fixation on making money. But back to Lily. Provided I could handle more revelations. At least getting to know Chance took my mind off what might be going on with Shannon.
“Did Lily graduate?”
“Summa cum laude.”
Impressive. I only knew that meant she’d gotten really good grades. The education I’d gotten since high school, I’d acquired myself, and I did a lot of reading on my own—various fiction and nonfiction. I was partial to John D. MacDonald. None of that eclectic reading constituted a degree, but I didn’t let it make me feel bad. He’d come after me, given up everything for me. Surely that meant something, more than just that he didn’t want to be alone. A guy like Chance never had trouble finding company; he could crook his finger and summon a date. He wanted a partner. He wanted me.
“What did she want to do, music-wise?”
“I thought she was good enough to sign with a major label,” he said, “but she wanted to get her master’s and go into music therapy. She intended to do good works instead of get rich.”
Wow. That might’ve been a bone of contention. I could see the trouble brewing in my mind’s eye. If Lily grew up with money, and just wanted to help people, she might not understand Chance’s need to prove himself by putting lots of zeroes in a bank account. She wouldn’t have understood that particular drive, even if she loved him. Since I’d been dirt-poor, I got it. I had the same compulsive need about having a home.
“How long were you together?”
“Five years, until I was twenty-four.”
Longer than I’d expected—sometimes answers didn’t offer all the solutions; they just created more doubt. How could I compete with this? Yet he was doing as I’d requested, so it didn’t seem fair to punish him because he’d loved someone else first.
“And how long until you started dating me?”
“It had been a year when I met you.”
I was twenty-one then, and I’d been on my own for three hard years since leaving Kilmer. I’d hit rock bottom, but by the time we started dating I had a job in Tampa at a dry cleaner’s and a crappy studio apartment. He had been twenty-five, though he’d seemed older in terms of sophistication. Those basic facts I’d known before, but they felt different, now that I saw the context of his loss. We had been together for over three years, until I nearly died, until I couldn’t take the emotional distance anymore. However, at least I understood why he’d behaved that way. In all honesty, I’d been his rebound girl, and so it was a wonder our relationship lasted as long as it did, a testament to how desperate I had been to please him.
He was thirty-two now, and I was twenty-eight. Our footing had changed.
“Ah,” I said, and he heard something in my voice.
“I know I was wrong in the way I handled…us. I thought I could I could protect you, if I could just control everything.”
“Even me.”
“Yes, even you. I managed you. Or I tried to. And I just couldn’t let myself be vulnerable the way you wanted, especially toward the end.”
“I understand.” I did, now. It didn’t lessen the damage he’d inflicted on me, but it helped me to comprehend it. “Did you mean to marry her?”
“I wanted to be able to provide for her first.”
“You were saving for a ring…or a down payment on a house?”
“Both. I had no idea what I was doing to her,” he went on brokenly. I’d never heard this tone from Chance, and a fist curled around my spine. His shaking hands clenched on his thighs. “After she died, I didn’t even know…” He took a couple of steadying breaths, and I reached for him.
He didn’t cry in my arms because that wouldn’t be a Chance thing to do, but he trembled, and he let me comfort him. Not a Chance thing to do, but I’d realized the Chance I’d known was the broken version. I’d very much like to get to know the man who loved a woman as fiercely as he’d loved Lily…and maybe me, now.
“How did you find out?” I asked when he eased away.
“I overheard my mom discussing how to break the news. She said she hated to hurt me, but that I had to know so I could take suitable precautions going forward.”
“Did she realize your gift could kill?” If she had, then it was criminal of her not to tell him sooner, even if her intentions had been good. For the first time, I felt a flicker of anger at Min. Before, I’d always blamed Chance, but she guarded her own secrets as tightly. Like his father’s identity.
He shook his head. “She knew the bad luck could be deflected, but she thought there were limits. So did I. But it makes sense—if the luck can save my life, then it can take someone else’s. After that, Mom looked for ways to compensate, but I wasn’t interested. I decided I wouldn’t get close to anyone else again.”
In his way, Chance had been every bit as messed up as I was. He probably still was, but I wouldn’t hold it against him. “So then…why did you—”
“Ask you out?” he finished. “It was the oddest thing. I tried to explain it to you once before, that click. I heard your drawl, saw your smile, and everything in my head went fuzzy. It was like I know this girl, or I felt like I should. I had to see you again. I told myself I’d be careful.”
“So you were trying to protect me.”
He nodded. “Later, I thought if I kept the emotional walls up, it would keep you from getting hurt.”
“I don’t condone how you handled things, but I understand.”
“That’s the best I could hope for.”
“And I guess my accident proves you did love me, after all. By the end.”
He closed his eyes. “I tried so hard not to. My love kills, Corine. But you were so sweet, so…”
“Gullible?”
“Irresistible. I couldn’t help myself. And the luck compensated when I stopped fighting, when I fell headlong for you—”
“I fell too. Literally.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
And it was. The past was no longer a thorn in my soul.
I had a lot to think about, but everything made sense now. From my perspective, he should have told me the risks after we got serious—my opinion on that didn’t change—but he hadn’t acted out of malice. His head was all f**ked up at the time, and he was trying to do what was best. And maybe, just maybe, he’d seen a glimpse of my past—a suggestion that I needed somebody to take care of me for a while. I certainly hadn’t fought at first. It was only later that I wanted more.
Now I’d given him reason to doubt me. Did that make us even?
Then I added, “I won’t make you talk about her again if you’d rather not.”
“It’s not Lily, per se. Just how badly I failed her.”
Yeah. He wouldn’t be here, if he’d known the risks, if she’d gotten regular cleansings. Such a small thing, but for want of the horseshoe nail, and all that. Most likely, he’d be married with a kid or two, working as a stockbroker or a day trader, while his wife with the beautiful singing voice ministered to the unfortunate. Instead, he had an inert Chihuahua and me. That illustrated perfectly how unfair life could be.
Sweetness and Light
“It’s pretty clear neither one of us is perfect,” Chance said. “We’ve both screwed up. At this point, we have to decide what to do about it.”
“Do you believe I can do better?”
“Do you think I can?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
“Then let’s start there.” He pushed to his feet, weariness in every movement. “If I can stay awake, I’m taking a shower.” He paused. “You’re lucky, you know. If I had more energy, I’d have bitched you out good.”
“Let’s hear it for exhaustion.” I listened to the water running in the bathroom, and the next thing I knew, it was a long time later. I knew that because Greydusk was rapping politely on the door, and it wouldn’t wake me without a good reason.
“Sybella grows impatient,” it said.
“Any trouble?”
“It was quiet until the summons.”
“Awesome.”
“I am to inform you there is clothing suitable to your station in the wardrobe.”
Suitable to my station. Fabulous. No doubt it would be elegant and uncomfortable as hell.
“I need time to get ready.”
“I will pass the message to Gilder.” Its footsteps trailed away.
I raised up on one elbow and found Chance gazing at me with lambent, sleep-lidded eyes. The bed was big enough that I couldn’t remember running up against him in the night. Or day. Whatever we’d slept through.
I made a conscious choice to move toward him. He met me halfway and his arms slipped around me, as they had so many times before. I didn’t stifle the memories this time. I let them come, and some were beautiful. Once, I’d thought he was the best thing ever to happen to me. Maybe I would again.
“You feel so good,” he whispered.
“You too.”
He buried his face in my tousled hair, rubbing his cheek slowly side to side. I wondered then: Did love ever truly die? I stroked his back and held him, savoring the moment.
“Sad as it sounds, this is the happiest I’ve been since you left me.”
I eased back to stare at him. “That’s…pretty messed up.”
“I know,” he said.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that revelation. I mean, on the surface, it was flattering. But I’d moved on. Put my life back together and grown stronger. Chance had fixated on getting me back. I asked myself if that was healthy or if it was a sign of how much he’d come to love me. Maybe I didn’t know shit about relationships and I was looking for an excuse to wig out and run.