Honestly Love You Chapter 2 (Chadney/T.C./Eve/Julian)
Posted by caroline crane
 

Julian cleared his throat nervously and crossed the room as he waited out his father's silence. He picked up the brandy decanter to pour himself a glass but his fingers wouldn't hold the decanter still. He hadn't dared to raise the subject of Sheridan's mother's death in ages, and he'd only raised it accidentally this morning. The mere mention of Meredith's name, let alone the circumstances surrounding her death, were enough to send Alistair into a rage that would reverberate throughout all his business and personal dealings for days.

Finally, when Julian had had all he could take of the oppressive silence, Alistair began to speak again. "Regardless of Sheridan's previous losses, she cannot be permitted to spend time with Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald. You of all people know how detrimental it would be to our family to have a policeman nosing about the property."

"Certainly, Father. I wasn't suggesting…"

"Shut up, Julian. I've had all of your sniveling that I can stand for one day. Now just deal with the problem or I'll find someone who can."

Julian smirked as he heard the line go dead. He'd never been able to resist taking pleasure in his father's Achilles heel, even though the consequences for him were usually unpleasant. Still, there had been a time when he'd pushed the envelope concerning Meredith's death just for fun. He'd learned the hard way not to do that, but it was amusing while it lasted.

Part of the reason Julian had always taken pleasure in goading Alistair about his second wife was the fact that Alistair had barely seemed to notice the death of Julian's own mother. He remembered watching her grown progressively sicker and sicker, a constant stream of specialists parading in and out of the house, prescribing drugs to stop the spread of the cancer, then drugs to stop the nausea the cancer drugs brought on, and on and on until she was practically catatonic, wasting away in her dark bedroom. Never once in all that time had Alistair been at Elizabeth's bedside, or even showed the slightest interest in her condition. Yet with Meredith...all Alistair could think about during those grueling months was Meredith's betrayal.

Over the years he couldn't help wondering if Meredith's death bothered Alistair so much because he truly loved her, or if it had something to do with her betrayal of the Crane name. Although he'd never said it aloud to anyone, least of all Sheridan, he'd often wondered if Meredith was ever meant to make it through that last childbirth alive. He knew the child didn't have a prayer, but he preferred not to dwell on the fate of that unfortunate creature. The thought of a bastard Crane heir out there somewhere was enough to send him diving straight to the bottom of his brandy decanter. Thankfully Alistair had the stomach to take care of the matter, Julian wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to go through with it given the same circumstances. As ungrateful and disappointing as his children were, especially Ethan, who was so much like his mother...Julian gulped down the last of his brandy and reached for the bottle again. No, as miserable as all four of his children could be he had a certain fondness for them, and he knew he'd never be able to order the extermination of one of them, even an illegitimate child.

Eve's face floated into his mind's eye and as always he felt a pang way down deep in the last corner of his heart that hadn't frozen over from years of bending to his father's will. There had been a time when he'd loved her, when he'd fantasized that he'd be able to have a future with her. But she never loved him - if she had she'd have told him about their child before it was too late, instead of going to his father with that ridiculous blackmail scheme. She'd ruined any chance they had of being happy together, but she'd gotten what she wanted. And now she was a doctor, thanks to Alistair, with two children and that boorish husband of hers, and she kept claiming to be happy every time she laid eyes on Julian. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much," he muttered sarcastically through the oncoming brandy-induced haze.

~

Whitney's grip tightened on the tennis racket as her father shouted instructions at her over the net. All she wanted to do was throw the damn thing as hard as she could across the tennis court and run away, leaving behind her father's perfectionist nagging, the smell of the rubber court in the enclosed room, and the steady thump, thump of tennis balls being hit back and forth across the indoor courts. Instead she took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. "Yes, Daddy, I'll try harder," she said automatically, forcing all her frustration and anger further down inside of her where she wouldn't have to deal with its ugliness. She tried so hard to make everything in her life beautiful, but the more she worked to be the perfect daughter and tennis player the more everything seemed to crumble around her.

"Baby, you know I just want what's best for you," T.C. said for the thousandth time as he approached her, handing her a towel. "You're never going to be ready for Nationals if you don't start concentrating. What is going on with you lately?"

"Nothing, I'm fine, honest," Whitney lied. The truth was that everything was wrong - there were so many desperate thoughts swimming around in her head that she didn't even know where to start. "I guess I'm just distracted about college, that's all."

"Well, college is almost a year away, and you've already applied, so there's no reason to worry about it now. Right now you have to focus on your game or we might as well forget the whole next season."

"You're right, I'll try harder," Whitney promised even as the voice in her head screamed out "Enough! I can't take anymore!" "Shut up," she told it, her smile never wavering as she followed her father toward the locker rooms.

Once she was safely inside the women's locker room and away from her father's daily pep talk she let out a deep sigh and slid onto the bench in front of her locker. She wished that he'd let her take at least a couple weeks off in the winter, or let her cross-train at least. But he kept insisting that any time away from her game would cost her in terms of form and endurance, so she kept at it, relentlessly, day after day. Focus on the Olympics, she told herself as she mustered the courage to find her towel and stumble into the shower, letting the hot water beat down on her for a long time without thinking.

"Is this really what you want for your life?" She kept hearing the question Chad had asked her over and over again as she stood under the water, trying unsuccessfully not to think about him or picture his face. But somehow, lately, whenever she forced her mind to go blank, he wormed his way into her memory like a bad penny, always turning up when she least expected it.

"Get out of my head," she hissed, her eyes snapping open as she pictured him leaning toward her for a kiss.

"Are you okay?"

Whitney whipped around at the sound of a voice behind the shower curtain, suddenly conscious of the water boring into her naked skin.

"Um, yeah, I...I'm fine," she called, shutting off the faucet and reaching for her towel. She glanced around the shower curtain and came face to face with Sheridan Crane. "Hi, Sheridan."

"Hi. Whitney, right? I've seen you around the Youth Center."

"Right," Whitney said, wrapping her towel around her and stepping out of the stall.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your shower. It's just that you were talking to yourself, I wanted to make sure you didn't need anything." Sheridan's blue eyes shone with genuine concern, making Whitney blush an even deeper shade of red.

"I'm fine, really. But thanks for checking on me." She ducked her head self-consciously and make a beeline for her locker, desperate to get out from under Sheridan's curious stare as quickly as possible. Sheridan watched her go a little sadly. She knew that expression, she'd worn it many times herself. It was the same look she wore when her father used to parade her around at Crane functions as a little girl, the painfully shy, self-conscious expression of a six-year-old girl who was supposed to look pretty and perfect, speak only when spoken to, and above all, never ever laugh or have any sort of childish fun. She'd seen the girls at boarding school wearing that expression as well, whenever one of them was singled out by a teacher for doing something good, or teased by a group of boys at a mixer. Sheridan wondered how such a pretty teenager like Whitney Russell, with a strong role model like Eve to look up to, could have built such a shell around her emotions.

~
Chad glanced around the room to make sure he hadn't left anything important behind, but all that was left in the tiny room he'd been renting was the bed, a small table and chair, and the moth-eaten carpet someone had tossed in the center of the floor in an effort to brighten up the place. "I still can't believe this dump passes for furnished," he muttered as he slid into the leather jacket Simone had sold him the night they'd met. That seemed like a lifetime ago now, he realized wistfully. He still remembered every minute of that night, especially running - literally -- into Whitney. His lips curled into a reluctant smile as he recalled how rude and stuck-up she'd been that first night, accusing him of stealing her father's coat and acting like she was so much better than him.

So how'd you end up in love with her? He asked himself without thinking. The moment her realized that he'd formed the thought he squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself not to feel that way about her. "I do not love her," he said aloud, more to convince himself than the drab furniture in the room. "I don't. Not that she cares how I feel." He took one last look around the room before he picked up his duffel bag and closed the door behind him, a bus ticket to New York City tucked in his jacket pocket.

By the time he reached the Book Cafe he'd already started coming up with excuses not to leave yet, but he fought mercilessly against every one of them, including the aching feeling in his gut begging him not to leave the only place that had ever felt like home. "You have no home," he told himself, choking back tears. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pulled open the door of the cafe, looking around for Beth as he stepped inside. Finally his eyes fell on her over on the far side of the room, talking animatedly with Hank Bennett.

"Yo, Beth, can I have a word?" he called, letting his duffel bag fall to the floor behind the counter.

"Sure, Chad," she said, whispering something to Hank before she hurried across the room toward him. "What's with the bag? Do you need someplace to stay? Because my couch isn't comfortable, but you're welcome to it for as long as you need..."

"No, Beth, it's not about finding a new place to crash," he said gently, keeping his voice low. "I just came to tell you I'm leaving town. I'm sorry about the lack of notice, but I gotta split before things get too complicated."

"Leaving town? Where are you going?" she asked, her face registering the shock in her voice.

"The Big Apple," he answered, working hard to keep from crying. Beth had been better to him than practically anyone in town, always giving him extra shifts when she could and making sure he had time to do DJ gigs on the side. "It's just time, that's all. I tried finding out about my folks, but it didn't pan out. So I'm moving on, maybe get my music career off the ground."

Beth smiled sadly and reached out to him, pulling him into a bear hug. "I'm really gonna miss you," she whispered, holding onto him a little tighter as tears began to form. "Listen, if things in New York don't work out, you come right back here. I know it's not Capital Records, but you always have a home in Harmony. Okay?"
Chad forced himself to smile casually, glossing over the word "home" as quickly as his heart would let him. "Sure thing. Thanks, Beth."

"You better write and let me know where you are," she warned as he grabbed his bag and started back toward the door. "If you don't I'm sending Luis after you, I mean it."

"I promise," he laughed, smiling wistfully as he glanced around the Book Cafe one more time. Sure, it was just a day job and not a very glamorous one at that, but he was going to miss it nonetheless. Finally he let the door swing shut, dividing him from the warmth of the cafe. Shivering in the sudden cold, he pulled his jacket a little more tightly around him and started toward the bus station.