Chapter 14 Elijah
ELIJAH
“Does Christina need a room?” I ask when we reach Jayden’s floor. Normally we’re on the same level, if not next door; today, he’s on nineteen and I’m on twenty-one.
“Matheo said she could have Oliver’s room now that he’s gone home,” Finley replies, looking between us.
“That’s not possible. Weissman checked out…” I eye Jayden as he backs out of the elevator. “Maybe she can have your suite?”
It takes him a second to read between the lines—those knocks to the head earning their keep. When it lands, he freezes, wide eyes locked on me.
“Uhm, yeah… sure. I mean, I can crash in your suite, and Christina can have mine. The rookies always get the shit rooms anyway, so she’ll probably prefer mine, and—”
“Great, that’s sorted.” I cut off his stuttered ramble with a chuckle.
He looks shocked stupid, almost tripping as he keeps backing down the corridor. We trail him to his suite.
I’m not rushing anything. It’s not that I’m not eager to do more than we already have—I’m just not sure I’m ready for that kind of intimacy.
Thinking about it makes me anxious. I’ve already hurt Finley trying to force myself ready, and I won’t do that to Jayden, too.
After yesterday, I won’t risk losing them.
At the same time, I don’t want them out of my sight. I want to be with them. Always.
Only now do I realize I’ve felt this way about Jayden longer than I’ve allowed myself to admit.
From the first time we were introduced as partners, I gravitated toward him—first the easy camaraderie, and then, whether it meant to or not, the pull morphed into something basal.
A longing so strong that every breath hangs on its satiety. On being near him.
Everything about us mirrors the growth of Finley and me.
From when we were toddlers crawling around together during our mothers’ bible study group, to standing on different sides of the school hall and sitting in separate pews at church, waiting to escape to the woods, to riding the school bus across from each other and stealing touches when nobody was looking.
Before I loved either of them, I trusted their friendship. They are the only people I can ever give myself to. They’re woven into my affections so minutely that love doesn’t exist for me without them.
To me, Finley and Jayden are more than everything. They are love, and they are heaven. Gloriously mine.
Jayden hasn’t unpacked, so in no time, we’re traipsing into my suite. My heart thrums in my throat as I hold the door for them. Finley beelines for the balcony, and even from here, I catch her enamored smile.
I wish she weren’t afraid of the water, or at the very least, that I could take her fear away.
Suppose that’s something for us to work on.
Maybe we can help each other overcome our fears, because as much as she visibly yearns to get close to the ocean, I yearn to be with her and more. To be closer with Jayden…
“Is it okay if I hang my suit up?” Jayden asks, taking his case to the bedroom. I follow with Finley’s small backpack slung over my shoulder.
“Nope,” I say lightly, setting Finley’s bag on the desk before dropping into the armchair by the balcony doors. I watch him open his case on top of mine and pull out the suit I packed earlier while he slept off the booze.
A grin quivers on his lips while he hangs it up.
I know he can sense my eyes on him because every move he makes is deliberately slow, putting on a show for me.
And I watch every second. My heartbeat kicking harder with each deliberate slide of fabric onto a hanger, each smooth tug of sleeve, until his shirt options are lined up.
Then, he turns to me with a narrowed stare, his lips all pouty and, fuck me, those dimples of his have my pulse shooting out of the stocks.
Maybe Christina wasn’t far off—he’s tall and broad, so big and beautiful he feels unreal. Too much, too good to be mine.
“You need to work on your funny,” Jayden croons, coming closer. At the bed, he toes off his sneakers and crawls across the mattress.
He keeps his eyes on me, bright and coaxing, grin curving toward a half-cocked smirk with every inch.
White cotton stretches taut over his back and shoulders, carving every ripple of muscle as he reaches the edge and stretches out on the crisp linen.
He props on his elbows, chin on stacked hands.
“You keep watching me like that, and I’m going to start charging. ”
“Name your price,” I hear myself say.
“How’re your investments doing?” he murmurs, slowly licking across his lips.
“Haven’t checked in a couple of days.” His brow shoots up—crypto is my hobby, the way reading is his. Not relaxing, but the risk and reward spark a certain thrill. “Market is holding, though, so…”
“So…” His eyes darken; the levity drains. “How did the talk with Taylor go? You still doing okay?”
I breathe in, turn the question over with everything else—what’s happening in here and out there.
The heaviest weight is telling Finley the truth behind the photos.
She hasn’t brought it up. Deep down, she knows it’ll break her world open, and she’s trying to preserve this improbable bliss.
I’ve considered ripping the bandage off.
From the second she ran to me this morning, it’s needled at me.
But not when we’re across the country from home.
Before I break her heart, she has to know we’re strong enough to fix it.
That I still beat for her, like always. I can be her lifeline the way she’s mine.
For us, I’ll be stronger. I’ll be braver.
“As always, he came through, you know? I was apprehensive when he said he was leaving, but actually… I’m good,” I say, letting out the breath and leaning over my lap, mirroring the way he props his chin. “And you?”
“Still trying to compute.” Guilt skates over his features; his nostrils flare. “Sometimes it fades to the back of my mind, and I’m happy and relieved that we’re here. That we’ve arrived at this surreal place where we are… us. You know?”
I nod. “It’s a wonderful place, JJ.”
As quickly as he smiles, his eyes mist over. “Then it hits me all over again. And it hits harder every time. The rage… I’ve never felt like this. Ever. So angry that… that I’m aching to… to… to kill. ”
Slipping off my seat, I kneel in front of him so that we’re face-to-face when I rake my thumbnail along his prickly chin, down the sharp contour of his jaw to his Adam’s apple as he audibly swallows at my touch. His eyes close, and I can’t help pressing a hard kiss to his forehead.
“What can I do to make it better, Sunshine?” I ask in a soft whisper, bracketing his throat with my hands.
Jayden shrugs, eyes fluttering open. His pupils are blown, the swirls of green and amber vivid behind the sheen of tears.
“Tell me what you need, Jayden… What do you want?”
“My momma didn’t decide to come on her own,” he whispers through a hitching breath.
“I called her. I called her because I don’t know how to process this.
Because I don’t know how to move past it.
And,” he hiccups, glancing down like he can’t bear to look at me, “when I saw Fin for the first time today, I saw him.”
“Don’t.” My stomach lurches into my chest. “It’s not her fault. She’s not the problem,” I tell him what I tell myself. “Finley did not hurt me. She did not assault me. All she’s ever done is love me… love you.”
“I know, Eli. None of this changes how I feel about her. How much I fucking love her. Every fucking part of her. The same way I love every part of you.”
“Illegitimi non carborundum.” He frowns the way I did when Connie first said it. “Don’t let the bastards grind you down, JJ.”
“Where the fuck did you get the Latin from?” He chuffs, a hangdog expression forming on his face.
“Connie… Dr. Armstrong.”
“Does she know?” He asks.
I shake my head. “It’s weird, I feel like I’ve told her so much without really telling her anything. She’s intuitive, I guess.”
“My momma and The Sire are like that. Sometimes, the less I tell them, the more they know. It’s crazy.” A small smile finally colors his face.
“If you need to talk to them about this, you should,” I say, brushing the thick, rebellious tendrils from his face, twirling the ends around my fingertips as I arrange them back into place.
“That’s… I can’t tell them what happened to you to make myself feel better.”
“I don’t want you to feel better, I want you to move forward.” I lean in until his shallow breaths warm my skin. “Don’t get stuck like I did because of everything that has ever happened to me, that will be what kills me. I cannot be the reason you lose your joy, Jayden.”
With a nod, he shifts on the bed to a sitting position as I stand and sink onto the mattress beside him. We sit in silence with our sides pressed together, hands on our thighs, pinkies knotted.
“You asked me what I need before. What I want…” His little finger tightens. “Don’t let them get away with it.”
If only it were that black and white. I’d give him what he wants in a heartbeat, without a single fuck for anyone else’s opinion—his and Finley’s are the only ones that matter.
“Say I go to the authorities and press charges,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder. “What happens when they ask me for proof? What happens if they question Presley and he tells them I’m lying?”
“Eli…”
“It’s my word against his, possibly Ryker’s. And if it leaks, then we’re all thrown into hell. Not just me. You. Finley. Everyone we love. They’ll be tainted by something that can’t be made right, no matter what we do.”
“Fuck,” he spits, gripping my hand and pinning it to his thigh. “I’m going to have to see that son of a bitch, play against him… How do you do it? How do you cope every time he touches you?”
I don’t have the words, so I show him. I guide his other hand to my ribs and hold it there until he understands.
He goes rigid. “Don’t you think you’ve been hurt enough?” He growls, clawing his fingers into my side.
“Sometimes the physical pain numbs the shit that’s deeper. It’s just skin and blood.”
“Your skin and your blood, Eli.” He scowls. “Don’t do it again.”
I wish it were that simple. Even with the best intentions, it isn’t. When desperation sets in, the urge is tunnel vision.
“I can’t promise that,” I say, staring at our entwined hands while I keep his other palm against my ribs.
“Why?”
“Because… It helps me cope. It helps me purge the pain and the shame and… It’s what I know, JJ.”
“Fuck…” he mutters with that same angry, maddened tone in which he told me he wants to kill for me.
“It’s fucked up, I know.” I meet his hardened stare. “I can’t promise I won’t do it again, but I am trying to be better. To do better. I’m trying to find different ways of coping. Like talking to Connie and—”
“Talk to me. Use me. I’m right here, Eli. I am always. Right. Here.” His hand travels from my side to my jaw. “And I will always do everything, give you anything you need. Just come to me, Sweetheart.”
My sweet, beautiful Sunshine. He breaks my heart in the best way. With his kindness and his selfless affection.
I can’t promise him that I won’t fall back into the desperation to numb the pain and hurt, but I can promise that I’ll look for him first. I’ll go to him. I’ll give him every chance he asks for.
Because a glimpse of his smile is enough to set my world on fire. And I would rather burn for him than bleed for the devil who brought me here.