Chapter 58 Elijah
ELIJAH
It’s early evening when Jayden joins us at the dog park.
Auguste is still talking to Finley about what Samson needs and doesn’t need.
What he likes and how he likes it. If I wasn’t fond of the pup, I’d be regretting my impulse decision to invite him to stay with Finley.
Then again, I need to be certain she’s not on her own.
She’s had enough of that to last a lifetime.
“How was the meet-and-greet at the hospital?” I ask when Jayden drops onto the bench beside me.
His eyes go straight to our girl. When he spots her chasing Samson, he exhales like he can finally breathe again. He’s not wired anxious like me, but Jayden loves hard—so hard it steals his own air sometimes.
“Kids are always the best meet-and-greets,” he says, a soft laugh chasing the words. “There was this cocky little shit who kept roasting Matheo. What a legend.”
Despite his upbeat tone, there’s a tilt to his mouth, the kind that fights off sadness and doesn’t quite win.
“Is the kid gonna be okay?”
He shakes his head. “She needs a double-lung transplant, but she’s so sick, they keep moving her down the list. They’ve tried everything. Trials, every protocol. Now she’s too weak to survive the surgery.”
My chest knots. “That’s… shit.”
“Yeah.” His voice roughens. “Alyssa’s mom said they’ve been through hell…”
I look at him, at the taut line of his shoulders, and think of what Finley said on the beach today—about him being part of us. About us being bigger than the weight we carry.
Jayden is a constant ache. A desperate need. Where Finley is my moon, pulling at the tides of my existence, Jayden is my sun—relentless, burning, impossible to ignore.
And I want to give him everything he gives the people he loves. Even if I don’t know how.
“Why don’t we talk to the PR office?” I say. “Get the team involved. A fundraiser, something that actually helps.”
He drags a hand over his face. “What if it’s too late?”
“For the kid? Or Dylan’s baby momma?”
“Both.” His laugh is humorless. “I called my momma three times today. When she ignored my last call, I called my mom. If I call my dads, they’re gonna think I’m losing it.”
“Nobody’s gonna think that. It just means you love her.”
His smile barely flickers before fading again. “Since her remission, I never thought about it coming back. Not really.”
I nudge his knee with mine. “That’s not a bad thing, JJ. Worrying about what might happen just steals from what is.”
That gets the faintest twitch of his lips.
“When did you start handing out existential pep talks?”
“Since you needed one,” I admit.
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but his eyes stay sad. And I hate it. I want him laughing the way Finley laughs when she forgets the Fellowship ever existed.
“I still believe good things happen to good people,” he says quietly. “But fuck, Eli—Paige is a good person. That twelve-year-old kid—”
“JJ.”
“Maybe I’m wrong.”
His head drops into his hands, fingers digging into his scalp like he’s holding something in.
I study him. This loud, bright, impossible man with his golden edges dimmed—and feel something inside me snap like a frayed wire.
“I don’t know if there’s a reason for any of it,” I admit. “What I do know is that sometimes the bad shit takes us to a good place, even if we don’t realize it at first.”
His eyes flicker to mine, quick and sharp, like he heard the weight beneath the words.
I look away first. I always do.
Because it’s getting harder not to get closer to him. Not to let him in. Not to want him.
We go back to watching our girl. And all that continues going through my mind is the conversation at the beach.
No more judgement. No more punishment. We decide who we love… how we love…
“About last night,” I start, and Jayden’s head snaps up so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash.
“What about it?” he says carefully.
“What if it was like that all the time?”
His brows shoot up. “All the time?”
“Yes.” My voice steadies. “It’s what Finley wants. You and me. No choosing, no halves.”
He stares. “And what do you want?”
“I want to protect her.”
“So do I.”
“I want to love her.”
“As do I.”
I swallow hard. There’s nothing I can give Finley that Jayden can’t. So why does she want me?
Jayden shifts to straddle the bench, facing me fully now. “Look at me,” he says.
I don’t want to. But I do.
Because he asked.
Because it’s him.
His eyes soften when they catch mine, but his words stay steady. “What do you want, Eli?”
“To make her happy,” I say. To make you happy.
“And you?”
I shake my head because I don’t have an answer that won’t tear me wide open.
Jayden exhales like he sees right through me. As he always does.
“So… what do we do? Take turns? Like brother-husbands?”
I blink. “Brother-husbands?”
“Yeah, one night you, one night me… though she’s not a rag doll, so maybe she gets a rest day—”
“No. We didn’t do that last night,” I blurt, too fast.
One brow quirks. “No, we didn’t. But last night, you didn’t touch her? Don’t you want to?”
My gaze drops to my hands. My throat works. I want to, but—
“What are you afraid of, Elijah?”
The sound of my name in his mouth nearly undoes me.
“Is it me?” he asks.
I jerk my head up. “No. God, no. It’s not you.”
“Then what?” His voice cracks around the words. “Being with Finley is loving her.”
I flinch. Because he’s right. And I’m not ready.
When I stand too abruptly, he grabs my wrist. “Don’t run from me.”
I freeze.
Jayden loosens his grip slowly, giving me space. “If you only want to watch,” he says carefully, “I’m good with that.”
I nod once.
“If you want more… with her. With me there. Or not. I’m good with that too.”
The air leaves my lungs in a shudder.
“I want you to be happy, Eli. This can’t just be about me and Finley.” His mouth twists. “You said she wants both of us. That makes you part of this, too.”
Before I can speak, Finley drops onto the bench between us, eyebrows arched. “What are you two whispering about so seriously?”
Jayden smirks, leans in, and murmurs something in her ear that makes her cheeks flame pink.
Her eyes flash to mine, wide and bright, right before he kisses her neck.
And my chest twists, sharp and sweet.
Because every time I watch them, it hits harder.
The wanting. The fear. The pull toward both of them that feels like it might kill me if I don’t give in.