32. Abigail
ABIGAIL
“What did he say?” I shoot to my feet the second Elliot exits Mr Porter’s office.
It’s been two days since Scott turned up around the Chapel and it’s been radio silence from Johnathon Eaton.
Until this morning when we arrived at college, and Elliot was summoned to the headteacher’s office.
“As far as he’s concerned, I’m to sit all my exams.”
“So your father didn’t?—”
“He did.” A pained expression flickers across his face. “But Oak’s dad got there first. Said he’d take care of any financial issues.”
“That’s really nice of him.”
“Yeah.” Elliot grimaces, still not entirely happy with the thought of letting people help him.
Draping his arm over my shoulder, he pulls me down the emergency exit at the end of the hall.
“Uh, Elliot. We have class.”
“Don’t care,” he murmurs, shouldering the heavy door and pulling me outside.
He wastes no time pressing me up against the wall and caging me there.
“You good?” I ask as he stares down at me, so much emotion warring in his eyes.
My savage, vicious boy has softened. All those sharp edges and jagged lines have begun to smooth out thanks to this.
Us.
Me.
“Not yet,” he admits. “But I will be.”
“Have you talked to her?”
His mum.
The one person he thought might help him in all of this.
He finally confessed that she never offered her support. That he lied because he didn’t want me to worry.
“There’s nothing to say. She made her choice, and it wasn’t me.” His icy gaze moves over my shoulder, and my heart breaks for him.
“Elliot.” I palm his cheek, coaxing him back to me. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Red. So fucking much.” He lowers his face and brushes his lips over mine. Once. Twice. Teasing me in the best kind of way.
I try to get closer, to deepen the kiss and take what I want, but he hovers out of reach, a faint smirk tracing his mouth.
“Are you trying to drive me wild?” I ask, a little breathless.
“Always.” He winks, and I swat his chest.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask, the air turning thick around us.
“What’s that, Red?” he asks. Teasing.
Deflecting.
He’s been doing a lot of that over the last two days. Trying to distract me. To reassure me that he’s okay.
But I see past his act.
Elliot’s future might have been decided for him by a man he hates but sometimes it’s better the devil you know, and I can’t help but worry that if Elliot gives it all up—SCU, moving on to the next chapter of his life with his best friends—he’ll regret it one day.
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t do that. Not with me. If you still want to go to university?—”
“I don’t.”
“But—”
“Look, I know I’m not good at this. At talking about shit and letting you know where my head is at, but let me be really clear about this… I choose this.” He lowers his head to mine, trapping me in his intense gaze. “I choose you,” he says with unwavering conviction.
“You think I want to be away from you for a year while you resist your exams? Not going to happen.”
“I just don’t want you to end up regretting anything.”
“The only thing I regret is not standing up for myself a hell of a lot sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I had no reason to…” His fingers slide into my hair. “Until you.”
“I hate that you’ve had to endure them.” I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer.
“Good thing I don’t have to anymore then,” he says, stealing another kiss.
Someone wolf whistles and Elliot tenses.
“Relax, it’s only some school kids,” I say, watching the small group of boys jostle each other as they head towards the lower school building.
“We should probably go back inside,” he says.
“Yeah, we should.”
The air crackles between us. A veritable live wire ready to combust.
“Elliot,” I breathe, my skin heating at the hunger in his eyes.
“Yeah, I know…” He exhales a steady breath, trying to compose himself. “Later,” he says.
“Later.” I nod.
Already counting the hours.
But our plans for later are ruined when we arrive at the Chapel after school.
“What happened?” Elliot asks a somber looking Oakley.
“It arrived special delivery an hour ago.” He hands Elliot the A4 white envelope.
Elliot stares at it for a second and then tears into it, pulling out the thick pile of papers. He moves away from my side and a pang of dejection goes through me.
I know this is his burden to bear and that he’ll come to me when he’s ready. But it still hurts.
“What does it say?” Oakley asks, watching the boy I love with concern.
Elliot scans page after page before throwing them on the breakfast island and running a hand down his face.
“El—”
I startle as Elliot grabs the glass and hurls it against the wall, the thing shattering into a hundred pieces.
“That bad?” Oakley goes to him, but Elliot storms out of the Chapel, the door slamming behind him.
He picks up the letter and lets out a low whistle. “He did it. That motherfucker really did it.”
“Should I go after him?” I ask, tears sliding down my cheeks as my gaze lingers on the door.
“Nah, let him cool off. I’ll give the boys a heads up and message Tally to come stay with you.”
“I feel so useless,” I whisper, wrapping an arm around myself.
“You’ve been his rock, Abs. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. What you did for him, laying yourself bare like that… It was fucking epic. But men like Johnathon Eaton have a way of getting into your psyche. Elliot knows his old man is an arsehole of gigantic proportions but it’s still his dad. It’s still his family. That shit takes time to come to terms with.
“You stay here, and I’ll go find him, okay?” I nod, and he offers me a warm smile. “We’ve got this. Between you and me and the boys, we’ll get him through this. I promise.”
“People are wrong about you, you know.” His brows furrow and I explain. “They think you’re all just spoiled, entitled, rich boys. But you’re so much more than that.”
“We’re not angels either, Abs.”
“No, you’re not. But you’re family and that means something, Oakley.”
He gives me a small nod. “I’ll find him and bring him back to you.”
“Thank you.”
“No,” he says. “Thank you. You saved Elliot from himself, Abs. You did that.”
“Yeah.” My chest tightens, my heart crashing violently beneath my rib cage as I whisper, “But he saved me too.”
Hours pass and nothing.
Tally, Liv, and Raine have stayed with me, trying to distract me while their boyfriends are off trying to distract my boyfriend.
The letter disinheriting Elliot from the Eaton estate—the family—taunts me from the coffee table.
I want to burn the damn thing. Shred it into little pieces and post it back to Johnathon Eaton with a letter of my own.
But I know this is not my battle to fight, and all I can do is wait.
“Anything?” I ask Tally as she scrolls on her phone.
“Oak said they won’t be long.”
Long?
It’s been hours.
I stand up, pacing, gnawing the end of my thumb because I hate this.
I hate it.
“You should have a smoke or a drink. Try to relax,” Raine suggests.
“I…. No. I want a clear head for when he gets back.”
“You know, it might be better if you’re not here,” Liv says, the pity in her eyes gutting me.
“I’m staying.”
“Abs, I’m just saying?—”
“I’m staying.”
“Okay.” She holds up her hands.
Silence falls over the four of us again as I continue to pace, wondering where they are and what they’re doing.
When I finally hear a car pull up outside of the Chapel, I freeze, fear like I’ve never known plunking in my stomach.
And then he’s there, standing in the doorway, dried blood on his knuckles, a nasty looking cut in his lip.
“What—”
“You said she wasn’t here,” he fumes, cutting Oakley with a look that could kill.
“I lied. Get over it.”
The floor goes from under me, but I stand my ground, refusing to let him push me away because his father is an evil prick.
“You should go.” Elliot pins me with a dark look.
“No.”
“I mean it, Bancroft. I can’t deal with this right now.”
Me.
He means he can’t deal with me.
I lock down the hurt and step towards him.
“We should probably give them some space,” Oakley suggests.
“Don’t,” Elliot spits. But I give Oakley a nod.
“If you need us…” Tally adds.
“I’m fine. I’ve got this.”
They clear out, leaving me alone with Elliot.
He narrows his eyes, so much pain and anger burning there. Then he storms over to the kitchen and pulls a bottle of vodka out of the cabinet, not bothering with a glass.
“That won’t help,” I say from behind him.
“And you think you can help me?” he sneers.
“Elliot.” I move closer, laying my hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me.”
“Stop,” he says, knocking me away.
“But I want to help.” I move around him, shoving myself between him and the counter. “Let me help, please.” I gaze up at him with nothing but love and trust.
“Red.” He inhales a sharp breath, his eyes shuttering. When they open again, I see a glimpse of my Elliot staring back at me. “I… I’m not in control right now. I need…”
“I know what you need, Elliot. And I want to help. I can handle it, I can?—”
He jerks away from me, a caged animal fighting the urge to attack.
“Elliot.” I take a step closer, taking the vodka bottle from him. I place it down, the air straining between us. “You helped me. You helped me so much… I’m here. And I trust you. You won’t hurt me.” I reach for him, silently pleading with him to let me do this.
To let me be his anchor.
“Elliot,” I breathe, trying to keep a handle on the nervous energy rebounding through me.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says in a low tone that sends a bolt of fear sliding down my spine.
But I’m not scared of him.
Never him.
I’m only scared of what he might do if he doesn’t let me in. If he doesn’t let me help.
“You should go,” he snarls, trying to intimidate me. To push me away.
This— This is the cold, cruel Heir people know him to be. But it’s only a mask. One he’s been forced to wear to fit into his father’s cutthroat world.
“No.” I stand taller, lifting my chin in defiance. “I love you. I love you, Elliot. All parts of you including the ones you don’t want me to see.”
The air thins, my heart beating so fast I feel dizzy. But I refuse to back down.
I refuse to abandon him in his moment of need.
Elliot’s expression darkens, anger radiating off him. But I don’t back down an inch.
He needs this.
He needs me.
A beat passes. The room growing smaller around us as we remain locked in a standoff.
He thinks he’ll hurt me.
He thinks I can’t handle the darkness inside him.
He’s wrong.
And I’m determined to prove it.