18. Ellison
They kept Grandad another night at the hospital. He’d been less than thrilled, but I’d been relieved. While my emotions ran freely rampant the entirety of the incident, Montana had been stoic—hyperfocused and anything but fine. I spent any and all available time trying to get him to talk about how he was feeling, but he still hadn’t cracked.
It’s been three days since Grandad came home, the man letting us fuss over him for exactly one day before declaring we were driving him crazier than a wet dog in a truck bed. I couldn’t blame him, honestly.
Between Montana, Celeste, and me, not to mention half the town, Grandad had grown tired of all the attention, even threatening to never make me breakfast again—the horror. I’d taken that threat to heart and changed my focus to my best friend which turned out to be worse than dealing with Grandad on the days he was feeling particularly ornery.
Instead of letting it out, Montana had bottled up every single feeling and locked them down tight. He was moody and distant, working late and distracted when he was home. I’d never seen him like this, and the fact that he’d become this person I didn’t recognize in the years I’d been gone gnawed at me.
Montana had taken on the responsibility of the farm and his grandfather’s care, and it had changed him. He hadn’t just grown up; he’d forgotten how to live—how to ask for help. Jensen had led the charge the night Grandad had been rushed to the hospital, making arrangements and taking the guesswork out of Montana’s hands.
I was thankful because I didn’t think Montana would have done it himself. Lord knows I’d been zero help that night. He wanted people to see the happy-go-lucky guy instead of the man compartmentalizing every single fear and pressure to not only keep his family’s business afloat but also manage the health of a man who meant the world to him.
It was unfathomable to think someone could shoulder all that alone. I helped out where I could, Celeste and I doing our best to make the house as stress-free as possible, but after a couple of days I needed to shake things up. Montana had practically turned into a zombie, and while Celeste had her reservations, I knew I needed to help him reset.
My way.
After having run errands all day, I’ve tucked myself away to get ready. Looking around, I worry my bottom lip with my teeth, pushing away the doubt and sending up a little prayer when I hear the front door close followed by boots hitting the floor.
Taking one last deep breath, I position myself on the bed and wait. The paperback in my hand is more of a prop as I hear Montana’s footsteps heavy on the hardwood. The closer they get, the faster my heart races and the harder it is to hide my smile.
“What the hell is that?” he asks without preamble as soon as he opens the bedroom door, his gaze locked on the giant framed picture of a cow behind me above his bed. “And that?” His gaze ping-pongs around the room to the obnoxious knickknacks I bought today for this exact reaction. “Jesus, Eddie, I was only gone a couple hours and you rearranged the whole damn place!”
It’s an exaggeration—kind of—but I watch with glee as his chest rises and falls faster with each new thing he notices.
The Christmas card of him in his boxers.
A hideous blanket I found in the bargain bin draped across the end of the bed.
His and hers robes hanging on the bathroom door.
“I just thought it was time to take our relationship to the next level,” I say sweetly.
“You what? What level? You’re moving in? I mean it’s fine, but dammit, Eddie, I think there should have been a conversation first.”
Batting my eyelashes, I lean one hand on the mattress and use the other one to push my boobs up in the low neck of my tank top. Montana’s gaze drops immediately to where I’m one heaving breath away from a nipple slip before looking up, his face flaming and his jaw clenching.
“You want to talk? I love talking.”
“You’re in my bed and you’re in my space and fuck if you don’t look good there, but I’m not playin’ house with you.”
I pout because I know how much he hates it. And how much he can’t resist it either. “So you’re saying you need a commitment before I can move the rest of my stuff in?”
“I’m saying that I have a lot of shit goin’ on right now and a case of blue balls that I may never recover from with you sleeping in my bed every night. But seriously, what the hell is all this?”
“You could have had me literally every single night since I got here—that’s on you not me.” Throwing the paperback onto the bed, I stand and watch as he takes in the smallest pair of boyshorts I own as I snag leggings from the drawer I shoved them in—he doesn’t miss that either. “It’s okay, Max. I don’t want to stress you out if you’re not ready for a commitment. I can go sleep at my place.” I add with a shrug, “It’s no big deal.”
“It’s no big deal,” he mutters under his breath as he scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s no big deal? Fuck, Ellison, of course it’s a big deal.” He waves his hands around, his voice rising as color crawls up his neck.
“Why?” I demand, and his nostrils flare as emotions flash through his gaze.
Come on, Max.
“Because—” The word is harsh, his breathing audible as he stares at me.
And I wait.
But it doesn’t take long, the fight draining from him as his body sags onto the end of the bed, his head in his hands. My heart breaks for him even as relief floods my veins.
Finally.
Stepping up between his legs, I gently drag my nails along his scalp and watch the way his muscles bunch and flex, the tension visible as he exhales through his mouth over and over. It feels like hours have passed when his arms finally come around my waist, his head turning to the side so he can rest his cheek on my stomach.
I wrap my arms around him and just hold him the way I’m sure no one has since the day I left here. I should have been here for him—really here—and not just the sporadic, meaningless text messages that we’d exchanged before Nan passed.
“I can take the picture down if you hate it,” I say because I’m drowning in the heaviness of this moment.
His shoulders shake with silent laughter, the movement vibrating through me before he throws his head back and laughs. It’s rich and full and so damn beautiful my eyes well with tears I have to blink away as a smile stretches across my face.
“Come here, you,” he says as he pulls me onto the bed. I yelp, bracing my hands on his chest before he rolls me onto my back and presses his lips to mine.
It’s sweet and exploratory, and I relish in the decadence of this uninterrupted moment.
“Are you okay?” I ask when he rests his forehead against mine as I draw little circles on the small of his back.
“I would say all this was overkill but…” He sits up enough to meet my gaze. It’s open and vulnerable and I wish I could just hide us away somewhere for a while. “I needed it.”
“I know.”
“I really hate that blanket,” he says as his tongue peeks out to wet his lips, and I can’t resist leaning up to nip at the bottom one.
“That’s why I picked it.” My grin is full of mischief as I add, “Matches your eyes.”
He snorts. “No it doesn’t.”
It really doesn’t, but that’s not important right now because my best friend is smiling, and I’ll do anything to make sure he keeps it up.
“Why don’t we go take a shower and then we can negotiate which of these gorgeous additions to your bedroom get to stay?”
He opens his mouth and then closes it, his lips turning up into a sinful smirk. “You’re on, Eddie. Let’s go.”