32. Sully
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
sully
IT WAS ODD, THE concept that life moved on and so did time. Especially since here, in this house on Maple Street, everything had always seemed to stand still.
But now, instead of being bombarded with childhood memories every time I looked around the corner, I seemed stuck in the moment when I’d walked into my bedroom, saw Ellie’s distraught, stricken expression, and knew something was very, very wrong.
I told my manager I needed to work remotely this week, which allowed me to stay in Rosewood.
It wasn’t an issue; we always had that option, but generally, I struggled to stay on task whenever I tried working from home and, therefore, didn’t do it often.
But right now, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here with Ellie.
I spent the week walking a fine line between giving her space and pulling her in so she didn’t drift too far away, especially whenever I caught her with that detached, despondent look in her eyes.
I didn’t want her to get too lost in that head of hers, especially when she buried herself in coding work and projects, as though she could use it to push everything else down.
But ever since calling Natalie on Wednesday—the day after the doctor’s appointment—she’d seemed lighter.
Theo came by with more soup the next night, and the three of us sat at the kitchen table to eat.
I counted the number of times a smile tugged onto Ellie’s lips, and it was more than the previous day.
Afterward, Theo went home, and we walked to the lake to get out of the house.
Dipped our toes in. Contemplated how contaminated the water was from summer boaters. I quoted Tarzan. She laughed.
At night, I read to her. She rested on the couch, and usually, I sat on the floor, just so I could be closer to her pretty face. My eyes liked to wander to her between sentences. Sometimes we’d read upstairs, too, and I’d sit next to her in bed or read from across the hall.
I’d always sleep there, though—in Natalie’s room. Keeping that little bit of distance between us was likely the hardest thing I’d ever done, but she hadn’t asked me to stay yet.
More importantly, she hadn’t asked me to leave. Not entirely. So I was holding on to this balance for as long as I could. And every day, I saw a little more hope.
On Friday, I heard Ellie leave the house while I was on a work call and frowned. I thought about running after her, but decided to text instead.
Everything okay?
Yes, I was supposed to be listening to a presentation. No, I didn’t care.
ELEANOR: Just running to the store for a few things.
I could have gone with you after my meeting.
ELEANOR: I won’t be gone long. I’m good, Sawyer.
Okay, El. Drive safe.
She did, and then she was back, not long afterward.
Thank God. I knew I was worrying too much.
Ellie wasn’t fragile, and she could take care of herself.
But everything that surrounded her—us—felt incredibly breakable.
And until I was more confident that this period of grief had passed, or at least lessened, I couldn’t help but fidget nervously every time she was out of sight.
When Ellie strode back in the door, she carried several bags, putting them down on the kitchen table in front of me, where I’d set up my workspace this week.
“I got something for you,” she said, and she looked so nervously happy that I immediately closed my laptop. In the middle of my meeting.
Fuck, I might pay for that later.
Again, I didn’t really care.
“You got me something?” I repeated because it didn’t compute in my brain.
She wasn’t supposed to be getting me anything. I was supposed to be getting her things.
“I feel like you’re bored, so—”
“Darling, I’m not bored. What have I done to make you think I’m bored?”
“Nothing, nothing,” she quickly said. “It’s just, if you keep messing with the sprinkler system, I’m afraid it’s going to break.”
I flashed her a mock frown.
I would fix that fucking thing eventually.
Just in time for the first frost, I was sure.
Placing a hand on my chest, I feigned offense. “You wound me, Eleanor.”
Her lips tugged upward. “Maybe I can make it up to you?”
“I’m sure you can.”
She could simply stand there and smile at me, and that would be enough.
Fucking loved seeing her smile again.
“Will you put together the Millennium Falcon with me tonight?” she asked, pulling out a giant LEGO box. Then, she threw down another colorful package on the table. “Also, I found these lightsaber gel pens, and I had to get them.”
All I could do was stare at her for a moment, my eyes drifting from the enthusiasm in the lines of her face to the gifts on the table, and then back to her smile.
God, that smile.
“Eleanor Summers, there is nothing in the entire world I would rather do than put together the Millennium Falcon with you,” I choked out.
“Okay, good.” She looked a little shy now. “It does have, like, a lot of parts. So maybe I was too ambitious, but…”
She drifted off, and I shrugged. “We’ll just take it one little piece at a time. How’s that sound?”
“One piece at a time sounds good.” She pointed to the bag on the table. “I got snacks, too.”
“I love snacks.”
I love you.
“Perfect.” She wrapped her arms around herself, something I’d noticed she’d been doing a lot lately.
I badly wanted to ask if she’d like me to help with that.
If maybe she wanted to borrow my arms. If I could hug her.
More. I’d hugged her some, but it didn’t feel like enough.
None of what I’d done felt like enough. Could I do more?
Would she let me do more? “I have another hour or two of work to do, but then I should be free.”
I nodded. “I’ll be here.”
Always, always be here.
The Millennium Falcon had 921 pieces and 339 steps, so Ellie and I did not finish it in one night.
No surprise there.
We were going on day two of building the Star Wars spaceship when there was a knock at the front door.
And then, to my slight horror, my mother came bursting in.
“Oh, look at you two,” she said as soon as she saw Ellie and me sitting on the living room floor around a scattering of pieces. “It’s like no time has passed at all.”
“Hi, Mom,” I said loudly. “How are you? How can I help you? What are you doing here?”
I gave her an intentional look that she just waved away, and I allowed it. Because by the time the questions were out of my mouth, I realized who she had brought with her. And why.
“Honey, baby!” Ellie was already crawling across the floor as the old beagle trotted toward her, the two of them meeting in the middle of the living room. My heart squeezed, and when I looked up to thank Mom for bringing the brightest smile to Ellie’s face that I’d seen in weeks, she was gone.
I frowned, but then a second later, the front door swung open again, and Anne London strolled into the house again, this time headed straight toward the kitchen, carrying a pan of some sort in her hands. “I brought you dinner!” she called. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just be in and out.”
“Hang on,” I muttered to Ellie, but she was entirely entertained by Honey, who I petted before standing to follow my mother. I found her at the stove, pressing buttons to preheat it.
“The hot dish needs about thirty minutes at 400,” she said, turning around to give me a meaningful look while pointing at the casserole dish she walked in with. “Do I need to stay to ensure that you put it in the oven when it’s done preheating?”
“I—no, I think I can handle that, Mother.”
“Good.” She looked satisfied with my response. “I also brought you a salad because God knows you could use some more vegetables.”
“Excuse me. What do you know about my vegetable intake?”
She ignored me, diving into a cloth bag that I hadn’t even seen her bring in. She pulled out something wrapped in paper, which I soon discovered was a loaf of bread.
“Your brother has been working on his sourdough starter.”
“Theo?”
“Yes, I had to stop at a shelter by the university yesterday, so I paid him a visit. He has more loaves of bread than he knows what to do with, that one.”
“First soup, now bread?” I muttered.
“Yes, well, I believe he wanted bread to go with his soups. Logical, isn’t it?”
“Logical, but perhaps rude that he didn’t want to grace us with his sourdough the other night when he came over.”
“The sourdough starter wasn’t ready yet, dear.” She gave me a sympathetic look, like I was a slightly hopeless child for not understanding the logistics of baking bread. “Anyway, here’s your loaf now.”
She set it down on the counter and then faced me with a sigh. But I wasn’t ready for her to face me. To look at me.
“I think we need to find him a partner,” I tsked nervously. “Or at least a pet. I don’t suppose you could help with that.” I raised a brow, giving her a little wink and forcing a smile.
“Believe it or not, I am not here to talk about your brother,” she chastised, and my smile fell. Right, yes, of course. “You don’t need to do this, Sullivan.”
“What?”
“Pretend.”
Fuck.
But it was so much easier. I’d been doing it for fucking years now, pretending like nothing was wrong. And it had worked out pretty well for me, all things considered.
“How are you, honey?” my mom asked then, and yep, I deflated like a pricked balloon, collapsing in on myself.
God, what a question.
I sighed. “Did Theo tell you?”
Her face softened into a look of compassion that made my throat tighten, and I knew the answer.
I’d told both Natalie and Theo that I didn’t mind if they filled the rest of the family in.
I didn’t really have the heart to repeat to everyone what had happened, but I didn’t feel like it needed to be a secret, and Ellie had agreed with me.
“He did.” She lifted her hand to my cheek. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
I let myself lean into the comfort of her touch for a second, all while trying to keep my throat from closing up. My mouth contorted into something between a grimace and a smile, as I tried to let her see how true my next words were.
“We were really excited to tell you, Mom.”
“Oh, Sullivan.” She lifted her other hand, too, cupping my face. In a different situation, it might be comical. If I were any taller, she’d need to rise onto her tiptoes. “I was really excited, too.”
Her watery eyes connected with mine.
“Did you…know?”
She gave a sad smile. “I’ve never seen Ellie fake-drink so many cups of coffee before.”
A tiny shake of my head. “Of course you knew.”
After one soft pat on my cheeks, my mom dropped her hands. “I hope you two are taking care of each other.”
“We are.”
“Your family is here, too, you know.”
“I do know. Thanks, Mom.”
“You let me know if you need anything.”
“I will,” I promised.
She looked like she wanted to say something else but decided against it. I could guess the general direction of her thoughts, though.
Don’t let her go, Sullivan. Not again.
She took to inspecting the kitchen instead, her lips forming a thoughtful pout.
“These cupboards really are hideous, aren’t they?”
“Excuse me?” I laughed, completely caught off guard.
“I never liked them much.” She tugged on the round knob on the cupboard closest to us.
“But buying new ones was always too expensive, and painting them is a process.” Her gaze roamed around the rest of the kitchen.
“These walls could use a different color, too. Brighten things up in here, you know? Heck, the whole house could use some freshening, don’t you think? ”
To say I was baffled by the direction of this conversation was an understatement.
“Mom, you haven’t changed a damn thing in this house for like two decades. I thought you kept everything the same for a reason. What’s going on?”
She cocked her head as she considered me. “Why do you think I hung on to this place after moving in at the lake, Sullivan?”
“I don’t know. Because it’s…home?”
“Well, yes.” Her head bobbed up and down. “It will always be home, in a way. But not so much for me anymore. I was ready to move, ready to be at the lake. But I felt like this house had some…unfinished business.”
“Mom.” I rubbed the space between my brows, feeling a headache come on. “Then why have you been telling me to get rid of all of my stuff if you held on to it for whatever your unfinished business is?”
“My unfinished business?” She laughed, putting a hand to her chest like she was blown away that I’d dared to say that. When I continued to stare, blinking in confusion, she sighed. “Because the house wasn’t ready to change before, Sullivan. It clearly wasn’t ready to…move on.”
“But it is now?”
“You tell me, sweetheart. You tell me. Now—” She looked around, snatching her empty food bag off the counter. “Why don’t you put that hot dish into the oven while I go give my girl a hug before leaving. Do you want me to leave Honey here for a night or two? I could pick her up later this week.”
“Sure, Mom,” I said, draping my arm over her shoulders and tugging her into my side for an embrace. “I bet Ellie would love that. Thank you.”
She squeezed me back and then disappeared to the living room, where I heard her soft voice mixing with Ellie’s.
As instructed, I put the hot dish in the oven, and then, after the front door creaked and shut, I walked back to find my girl, staring at the walls as I passed them, my mom’s words on a loop in my head.
Maybe letting go of the things that had happened in the past didn’t mean letting go of Eleanor.
Maybe moving on from the last decade or two of life in this house didn’t mean moving on from her, either.
Maybe, as much as Ellie liked to point out how much I hated it, change was actually exactly what I needed.
Imagine that.