Chapter 26
twenty-six
ELLIOTT
I fought the itch to stand up and walk away from the table for the entire length of the dinner.
The resort was a masterpiece of luxury—the air tasted of expensive salt and vintage tequila, and the soft glow of lanterns danced off the waves crashing against the shore. To anyone else, it was paradise. To me, it was a gilded cage.
There were women at the bar and a few at the far end of our table who were making it painfully clear that I could have them if I wanted them. A hair flip here, a lingering gaze there. In any other year, I might have used them as a distraction. Tonight, I had no interest. They were white noise.
The only interest I had—the only thing that felt real in this entire godforsaken country—was lying in a heap of pillows in the room closest to the lobby.
Morgan had probably put her there thinking she’d need an easy escape if things got too heavy.
She didn't realize she’d also made it easier for me to count the seconds until I could get to her.
I spent the entire night wishing she was here.
Even if she hated me, even if her tongue was as sharp as a razor and her eyes were full of ice, at least I could have been close to her.
At least I could have watched the way she breathed, or the way she tucked a stray hair behind her ear when she was frustrated.
Instead, I was forced to look longingly at the empty place next to my seat. Her name card was still there, propped against a crystal water glass, mocking me.
My gut was a whirlpool of guilt and a long-burning desire that I had no right to feel. After the fallout at the birthday party, after she’d finally stood in that room and bled the truth in front of everyone, I didn't know if she’d ever see me the way she had when we were teenagers.
Back then, I had been a hero in her eyes. Now, I was the man who had looked at her scars and assumed they were a choice rather than a map of her survival. I had been the villain in her story for a decade, and I had played the part with terrifying enthusiasm.
She’ll never look at me like that again, I thought, the realization twisting like a knife in my chest. I’ve burned that bridge so many times the ashes have turned to dust.
But as I watched Richard laugh and pull Morgan closer, a cold, hard resolve settled in my bones. I wouldn't stop trying. I didn't care if it took forever. I didn't care if she spent the next fifty years screaming at me to leave.
I had been her shadow for ten years. Now, I was going to be her anchor.
“Elliott?” Rob’s voice broke through my internal static. He was looking at me with a mixture of pity and amusement. “You’re doing it again. You’re staring at her chair like you’re trying to set it on fire with your mind.”
“I’m done,” I said, not even bothering to finish my drink. I pushed the chair back, the legs screeching against the stone floor. “Tell Morgan I’m heading in.”
I didn't wait for an answer. I didn't need to. Every step I took away from that table and toward the lobby felt like a tether finally snapping, pulling me back to the only place I was ever meant to be. Standing guard over a woman who probably wished I was anywhere else.