37. Matteo
Matteo
MATTEO
I know you’re pissed at me
and continue being pissed all you want
but don’t do that to Evie, not now
I don’t think she can handle another person turning their back on her
ELLINGTON
she should have thought about that before stabbing me in the back first
MATTEO
nothing even happened until the elevator. there was nothing to tell you Caleb, I swear
ELLINGTON
I don’t believe you.
I don’t believe either of you.
do yourself a favor and stop texting me.
Could this night get any worse?
How has it gone from kissing the woman of my dreams to watching her be utterly obliterated by her family? I love Caleb like a brother—heart, mind, and soul—but that bond tonight was put to the test.
I know I’ve betrayed him. I know I’m going to have to repair what I broke, but he has things to answer for as well. When I came to, the look on Evie’s face told me I missed more than just precious minutes of consciousness. It told me Caleb ran his mouth.
I’m frightened of the damage he’s caused her. In the span of twenty minutes, I’ve watched the people that have always been there for her—her sounding boards, her rocks—absolutely obliterate her heart.
Whatever her mom whispered to her at the door was the final nail in her coffin.
Evie’s face shattered right along with her heart.
By the time I make it up the stairs and turn down our corridor, her door is shut already. My steps are muffled by the carpet so she doesn’t hear me coming. I don’t think she could over the crying that’s floating beneath the door.
My face crumples. It physically hurts me to hear her cry.
Lifting my hand, I gently knock. The second I do, her sniffles cease.
“Dove? Can I come in?” I ask before trying the handle, only to find it locked.
The loud sobs may have ended but I can hear the struggle to tame them. Her breathing is labored, gasping in lungfuls of air and failing.
“Evie, please let me in,” I plead, laying my forehead against the door. “Don’t shut me out, please. It’s fucking killing me hearing you cry and not being able to soothe you.”
The moment my lips met hers, my world changed.
I saw colors that I’ve never seen, felt emotions that I never dared to dream. All because of her. I knew the moment I had a taste of her I’d never be able to let her go and that’s showing in this moment.
There are no more pretenses for me. No more pretending the smell of her scent doesn’t make my heart skip a beat, no more pretending her smile isn’t the most radiant thing I’ve ever seen, no more pretending that the days I’m away from her don’t leave a cloud above my head.
There is no more hiding how I feel.
Pandora’s box was opened, and held within wasn’t misery but my love for the woman I’d grown up dreaming to cherish yet deep down utterly terrified I’d never be given such an honor.
“Dove?” I whisper.
A click rings out before the handle turns. I finally lay eyes on my girl, mascara running down her cheeks, red nose and all, her broken heart on full display.
Evie’s lower lip wobbles tirelessly, the tears flowing down her cheeks never-ending.
My broken dove.
She’s barely finished opening the door before I have her in my arms. The moment I wrap her in my embrace, her knees buckle, a heaving, heart-breaking sob tearing from her chest, one that has tears swelling in my own eyes.
Sweeping her off her feet, I walk deeper into her room, taking a seat on her bed. Evie sits on my lap, tucking herself into a tight ball, trying to make herself as small as possible. I just let her cry while trying to hug her as best I can.
Closing my eyes, I take deep measured breaths, trying to hold strong as she shatters in my arms.
I saw her mom in a different light tonight. The pedestal I put Serena on came crashing down and all that was left was an everyday woman. Not a superhero, not a goddess, and certainly not the savior she was to me growing up.
Moms are supposed to be the ones who hold you while you cry, not the ones who make you sob. I had to learn that lesson the hard way with my own mom. I never in a million years would have thought that the woman who saved my life would turn around and break Evie like this.
The Ellington’s’ house was the one everyone ended up at after school and on weekends.
Their home was warm and inviting, their dad cool and laid back as he helped us all practice skating.
Then we’d come back, dragging our tired and sweaty bodies through the kitchen and smell the delicious scent of whatever meal Serena had cooked.
Without fail, she had an afternoon sweet treat for us.
And yet here I am, cradling her daughter as I try to put the pieces of the heart she broke back together.
Evie isn’t overly sensitive. She doesn’t read into things people say. So knowing Evie, knowing who she is at her core, I’m terrified to find out what Serena said to make her this visibly upset.
This has to be about what she’s been hiding.
The secret she’s been hoarding like her life depends on it.
I haven’t been pushing her because I didn’t want to force her, but how can I help her when I’m walking through this blindly?
Evie cried in my arms for hours until she drifted off to sleep.
She never uttered a word, just clung to my shirt, grasping it like I was her lifeline, all the while keeping her secret close to her chest no matter how gently I tried to pry.