Chapter 41
SAPPHIRE
“What are you doing here?” Eli asks, staring at me from behind his desk.
I try not to be offended by his biting tone, schooling my emotions to curb my annoyance at his rudeness, but my patience is starting to wear thin.
He’s being a douche canoe and he knows it, and yet it hasn’t stopped him from being one.
“Well, if things won’t come to you, make your own way to them.” He’s been avoiding my calls all day. Not just today but for the last three days.
It’s killing me to see him go through this pain, but he refuses to talk to me about his dad. I’ve already decided not to push him, for fear of sending him into a hole so deep he might never come out.
He grunts.
Oh, great, we’re back to Elijah Hart’s old ways.
“How is your dad this afternoon?” I place his takeout coffee on the coaster, which I grabbed on the way here, and lay two boxed donuts on his desk right next to it.
“The same.” His voice is cold.
I take a mental note of how tidy his desk is.
His father’s failing health is knocking him sideways.
Knowing Max and Cole are currently by Daniel’s side, and Nathan and Arianna are home, I knew Eli would be here.
Not only does Daniel have a broken hip and nose, but the blow to his head from the fall required emergency surgery to release the pressure as his brain swelled to worrying levels, and he still hasn’t woken up from it.
The boys and Michelle take turns sitting with him, except for Nathan, because the night after Daniel’s accident, Arianna went into labor and gave birth to a little girl they named Riley, after her late sister.
It was a much-needed glimmer of good news in a dark time.
I’m craving a little hug from Riley because I only saw her in a photo Nathan showed me this morning when I visited Daniel, hoping to see Eli there, but he wasn’t.
He had already left this morning before my alarm went off.
No note left, no text to tell me he’d gone to work.
Just silence, like there is now.
He’s withdrawing from me, a heavy anchor tied around his waist, already pulling away.
“You can talk to me, you know. I’m here for you,” I say, gently.
His fingers clench around the arm of his chair, turning his knuckles deathly white before he retorts, “You can’t fix everything with words, Sapphire.”
“I know that, but it might help.” I take the seat across from him. The mood in the room makes it feel like the first night we went out to dinner. We’re back to acting like strangers.
“It won’t help. Nor will meditation, singing therapy, or doing fucking karaoke, because I have nothing to celebrate.” He raises his voice and it’s edged with steel, almost disdain for the work and activities I enjoy.
“I never said they would,” I say flatly, my feelings hurt by his character assassination and dismissing the work I do.
“But you’re thinking it. I can hear your brain working overtime, desperately trying to figure out how to fix me, help me, make me feel better, how to make me smile and skip with glee.
When that’s the last thing I want, Sapphire.
” There’s so much rage in his response, as he grounds out the words between his teeth, that his cutting words slice me open.
“I wasn’t thinking that.” Never. Instead, I was stepping back, holding space for him, and being here for him when he needed.
He sneers, bitterness dripping off his tongue. “I doubt that. And for the record, no sparkles or rainbows or your brightness will reach where I am.”
I flinch at his unpleasantness as something else shatters inside him, as if my warmth, light, and laughter don’t belong in the hollow he’s falling into, all my color draining from my cheeks.
He sees me turn pale, and a look of shock crosses his face because he knows he can’t take back what he just said, as if realizing how even the brightest things can fade when pushed too hard.
The air turns chilly between us as I stand up, my happiness shrinking with each tick of the clock on the wall.
“I have to go.” I should have been on the road two hours ago. “I’m driving to my parents’ tonight.” Eli was supposed to be driving, but with his father unwell, Mistee loaned me her car for the weekend.
“Fine.” His voice sounds like an empty tomb.
Fine.
There’s nothing fine about any of this.
I was excited for him to meet my parents for the first time, and since I haven’t seen them in almost six months, I decided not to cancel and to go alone.
Eli pulls himself into his desk, gets to work, and keeps his eyes on the screen instead of me.
“So, I’ll see you when I get back.” I try to sound okay when I feel anything but.
In my heart, I was always afraid Eli would falter. I knew that if something more serious happened to Daniel, something worse than this, I would lose him. I also understood that someday, eventually, my bubbly personality and the fact that he told me he loved it might become too much for him.
Maybe a few days could make him consider how hurtful his behavior has been, or he might not think about me at all.
It doesn’t matter, I know I’ll be thinking about him.
“I’ll bring you back some honey from my mom and dad,” I say, refusing to let go of him so easily.
He nods, almost dismissing me like I mean nothing.
“Elijah,” I begin, doing my best to hold it together, “I know you’re hurting, but that doesn’t mean you have to spread the pain by saying harsh things when I know deep down you don’t really mean them.
I love you, Elijah, warts and all, and I would never use your worst fears, which you told me in confidence, against you.
But what you just said was cruel. You didn’t just criticize my insecurities; you made them worse, making my fears feel so much bigger and bringing them all to life.
I hope this weekend gives you time to consider what you want. ” Because I’m not sure it’s me anymore.
“Bye, Elijah. I’ll be back on Monday.” I bolt out the door, a lump forming in my throat as emotion builds, and I stride with force to stop myself from crying. Swallowing loudly, I breathe in deeply in a desperate bid to keep the tears at bay.
I don’t want to cry. I will not cry.
I’ve heard worse things said about me before, especially regarding my bright personality and how some people think I’m faking it or hiding depression, but none of that is true.
But those things he said, coming from him, the man who claimed he loves me, and who hasn’t said it since, hurt more deeply, all the way down to my marrow.
My volume is too loud for him when all he wants is silence.
I’m too colorful for him when all he wants is gray.
The truth is, I’m too much for him, but I don’t know how to be less.