17. Seventeen
17
SEVENTEEN
ELIANA RICHARDS
CIA Headquarters, August 2022
“ M orning,” I mumbled after a big yawn while entering the communal kitchen. As expected, Peter was already up and preparing breakfast. If only for him or for both of us again was still a mystery.
“Morning, Eli.” He smiled at me but, it fell after a second.
“Are you allowed to be up and walking around?” he added, concern lingering in his voice while he furrowed his brows. He had put the spatula next to the pan and started walking in my direction, his arms outstretched as if I would collapse any second.
“It’s only a broken leg, Peter. I’m fine,” I assured him, although I had to confess that the dull pulse in said leg was more than only annoying, and I was getting dizzy way quicker than before the accident. That was probably related to the painkillers.
“You sure?” His face showed that he was not believing me at all. It was cute. That little frown made him look like a grump and I wanted to kiss his forehead until it smoothened out again.
“I’m really fine. But thank you for being concerned.” I shot him a smile that would hopefully convince him. It didn’t. He walked next to me with his hand on the smaller of my back the entire time, leading me towards the couch where he propped some pillows so I could elevate my leg.
Seeing him working out in the gym and listening to those grunts was sexy, but having him worrying about me and literally hushing behind me like a mother hen was a new level of sexy.
That man was worried about me and abandoned the pancakes in his pan to make sure I was okay. This man was a keeper and I was indeed willing to make him mine.
No more denial.
No more stalling.
No more suppressing my feelings.
“I’ll always be concerned about you, Eli,” he mumbled while putting the blanket on top of me and tucking it in on the sides. Before his hands left the sides of my body, I quickly reached out to grab one of it with my own. Our gazes met and his smile was wider than before.
“Thank you. I don’t deserve you,” I answered and I meant it. He was perfect and I was so broken. Why would he ever want to be around me? Especially because I treated him so badly our entire life.
“You deserve the world, Eliana Richards,” he whispered to me before leaning in and placing his lips on my forehead. My heart was screaming with love and happiness, and I made a mental note to preserve this moment forever in the archives of my brain.
“And I will show you this every single day until you finally believe it yourself,” he added, and all I could do was close my eyes to prevent the tears from falling.
I’ve never been treated like this since Mom died.
“Peter,” I said, barely audible.
“I know, Eli.” He leaned back, but his hand reached out to cup my cheek, his thumb carefully caressing along my heated skin.
“Thank you,” was all I managed to say, even though it did not transport any of the emotions I was feeling right now. But I didn’t find the right words. How could I?
This moment between us was so precious, soft, and raw that I was scared to death it would crumble in front of my eyes if I didn’t manage to find the right words.
“I’ll make us some pancakes, okay?”
I gave him a smile and nod in return, thankful that he understood me even without words. He left towards the kitchen part of the room, grabbed the spatula again, and tossed the obviously burned pancakes in the trash. Then he grabbed the bowl with batter and started all over again. I watched his every move, the way his biceps tensed under the weight of the pan when he was trying to flip the pancakes in a chef-like move. We both laughed loud when one of them was catapulted out and landed on the kitchen counter with a thud.
He quickly heaved it with the spatula and maneuvered it back into the pan. My eyes widened and he only shrugged his shoulders.
“Three seconds rule.”
“The one from basketball?” I raised my eyebrow.
“No. If something drops, you have three seconds to get it back and then it’s still edible.”
I crunched my face in slight disgust.
“It’s in the official hygiene concept of headquarters, Eli. No need to be worried.” He chuckled, but that didn’t really assure me. I think he saw my face very clearly, because he grabbed into the pan, stole the recovered pancake out of it and placed it into his mouth. Moments later, he spit it out again on the kitchen counter and whined loudly.
I couldn’t help myself and burst into laughter with the sight of him looking like a hurt puppy, his obviously burned tongue slightly sticking out of his mouth. My hands were grabbing my stomach while I tried to breath in between the snorts that were now coming out of my mouth.
“You good over there?” he asked with a smirk on his face, the pain in his mouth probably forgotten.
“Yeah, yeah. All good.” But I couldn’t stop chuckling. The situation had been so absurd and the moment he spit out the pancake while his face showed the realization that he just had made a very, very stupid decision was hilarious. I restored that memory in my archive as well.
“Enjoying the show?”
“Yeah. Comedy ten out of ten.”
“Good. At least I made you laugh. I’ve never seen you laugh like that.” Now he was full-on smiling at me again and I swear I could feel my heart skip a beat. That man’s smile could end wars. Maybe that’s why they rejected him from the SEALs. It would have made their job too easy and they all liked the adrenaline rush of being in danger.
“There was never much to laugh about in my life,” I answered a little too honestly, regretting it the moment the words left my mouth. His smile fell and the concerned look was back. He was polite enough to not dig deeper on the topic and only said:
“I’m sorry for that.”
“Me too. But I’m convinced there will be plenty of reasons to laugh like this in the future. At least I hope so.”
I really did. I was ready for some happiness now. It was about damn time. And I haven’t been as happy as this since I joined this task force. Even Mihaela was surprised about me actually making friends and spending time with someone else.
“I’ll do my best, Eli.” Peter winked at me.
“That I’m sure of.”
He finished preparing the pancakes and brought two plates to the coffee table at the couches. I would have moved over to the dinner table as well, but he repeated multiple times that this was better for me because I could comfortably keep my leg elevated. He really was a mother hen, but I didn’t mind.
“No French toast today, even though it’s your favorite food?” I asked before taking the first bite.
“Nah. I wanted to show you some variety and not bore the hell out of you.”
“But the French toast was really, really good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep. Best one I ever had. And, to be honest, I could eat them every morning for the rest of my life!”
That he was grinning about my compliment was the understatement of the year. His smile was so wide that he’d been easily able to play the Cheshire cat in a real-life adaptation of Alice in Wonderland .
I loved to see him smile.
The happiness this man radiated was enough to ban the darkness out of my heart and made me feel warm, loved, and happy. Something I haven’t felt in a very long time.
Maybe this feeling would have come back to me way earlier If I had given Peter a chance before.
I couldn’t change the past but create my future.
And I planned for him to have one of the main roles in that future.
We finished breakfast with him telling me about a mission from earlier this year where he killed the terrorist az-Zawahiri during a rescue mission. It was impressive, even though he told me the story like he was ashamed of it. The terrorist threatened to kill McGreen, and he did what he was trained for and shot, although their mission was to capture him alive.
“You saved McGreen’s ass, Peter. That is something you should celebrate.”
“But we would have way better insights into the Middle East if we had captured him. I shouldn’t have gone for the head.”
“Peter,” I said in a louder voice this time, getting him out of his mind. He raised his head slightly, looked me in the eyes and I could see the storm behind the emerald.
“You did what you needed to do. Don’t beat yourself up for something you don’t have control over.”
“Sometimes you’re wiser than you appear, Eli.” He laughed and I knew the moment of darkness was over. Thankfully. I’d guide him out of the rabbit hole of his mind every time, because I loved the bright, beautiful colors of his soul even more.
There was silence between us for a few seconds, neither of us sure how to carry on the conversation. It was a Sunday, so I think he had the day off. We usually had if there wasn’t a particular case that needed investigation all around.
“You wanna watch something?” he asked. Apparently Peter Davis was as desperate as I was to keep whatever this was between us ongoing.
“I actually have to take my meds and then I'm pretty sure I need a nap. These painkillers are kicking me out of life every single time,” I sighed.
“Oh shit, I forgot about your meds. You left them in your room?”
“Yeah. I’m still not used to not being able to quickly move around and get stuff in case I forgot it.”
“I bet it must be annoying,” he winced.
“Yes. Very.”
We looked each other in the eyes for a few moments longer than usual, because his were like a magnet that pulled me close every single time. I wanted to discover every tint of green in his eyes, watch them slightly change colors when they were illuminated by sun—or moonlight.
“All right, I think I’m gonna go then.” I smiled at him, but the pain in my heart almost made me stop. I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to spend every minute with him, because Peter Davis was the first person that made me feel safe, happy, and home.
“I’ll walk you. Just to make sure you’re not falling or anything.”
“You’re really a gentleman, Peter. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
His hand never left the small of my back the entire way up into the fifth floor and it was the best feeling ever. This little gesture of protection was something I wasn’t used to, but could get addicted to pretty quickly.
We stopped in front of our rooms and I didn’t know what to say. There were so many words on the tip of my tongue, but none of them dared their way out. Peter appeared to be the same as we just stood in front of each other like creeps.
“Peter, I…” I started and I could see his face lit up in an instant although he had no idea what was about to come.
“Yes, Eli?”
“Would you like to come inside? I have to admit that I haven’t slept as well as when you were around yesterday,” I murmured, suddenly insecure and afraid he would reject me. I didn’t know if my tiny heart would be able to survive the rejection.
“Of course,” he said with a smile and waited for me to turn around and open the door.
The inner child in me screamed in happiness, jumping up and down and doing a happy dance. If I wouldn’t have to deal with the fucking crutches, I’d probably let it take over my body and dance through my room.
Which would have been awkward in front of Peter, but who could deny a little happy dance?
He closed the door behind him and I hobbled straight towards my bed, eager to crush on the fluffy mattress. Peter followed, but not without a trip to the desk to grab my medicine and a bottle of water.
I rested the crutches on my bedside table and carefully lifted the casted leg into the bed. It was safely secured in the monstrosity of fiberglass, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt when the tender limp inside was startled.
“You need help?” Peter asked immediately .
Always the gentleman.
“I’m fine.”
This was literally everything I said to him whenever he was mother hen-ing around me and I felt a bit bad for him. Should I actually let him help me once?
That was new for me. I was so used to doing everything on my own, to fight through everything on my own, that I didn’t know how to accept help.
“Just let me know if I can do anything.”
“I will. Thank you, Peter. This whole…thing is new for me, you know?”
“The friendship thing?”
Friendship.
Was that what he was thinking this was?
The big sting in my heart came unexpectedly, making me realize I fell too quickly and too hard for him.
Fucking emotions.
“The accepting help thing,” I answered, trying to cover the pain on my face. I hope he hadn’t seen it.
He rounded the bed and took a place on the exact same spot as yesterday before reaching the meds and water out to me so I could take them. I followed suit and gulped the painkillers and whatever the other pills were doing down with one sip.
“Mind if I scoot closer? You were actually a very comfy pillow.”
“Not at all. Come here,” he answered and raised his arm for me to snuggle into him. I wiggled closer to him until my head rested on his ribs and a sudden feeling of calmness flooded me as soon as I smelled his signature scent.
“Good?” he whispered.
“Perfect.”
I felt his lips on top of my head a moment later and wrapped my arm around his abs in reaction. My heart didn’t even know if it should gallop or skip a beat because it’s been a while since we’ve been touched by a man in a gentle way without the intention of hurting me.
We laid like this for a while, his nose buried in my hair while his fingertip carefully brushed up and down my side. It was almost featherlight and so tender that I could get lost in his touch right away.
“Eliana?” Peter murmured into my hair.
“Yes?”
“Who hurt you?”
My shoulders tensed and he must have felt it too because his hand on my side came to a stop. I literally heard his heartbeat increasing beneath his ribs.
“What do you mean?”
I tried to play it cool. He couldn’t know anything about my past, because I hid it as well as possible. Mihaela was the only one who actually knew what my father always did to me and she was the one encouraging me to move out as soon as I was able to.
“Yesterday it…I never saw you like that. So insecure, so different. It looked a lot like you’ve been triggered by something and I can’t stop thinking about it. It hurts to see you like this, thinking that you are a burden to me . It really felt like these words ripped my heart in half.”
His voice was super calm, but I heard the tremble in it. Was I ready to let him in my head? To show him a fraction of what I had to endure and what sculptured me to the person I was today? Would he be able to stomach the truth?
“I don’t want you to think less of me,” I said in such a low voice that I wasn’t sure if he had heard it. For a moment, I buried my face in his shirt and tried to escape my reality and the upcoming uncomfortable situation. One last time, I smelled his soothing scent, well knowing that he would never lie like this with me when he got to know everything.
“Eli, we kill people for our living. We hide more secrets than any other job and I’m surrounded by people that have been through hell with bare feet. I have no idea what you could tell me that’d make me think less of you. I have known you my entire life, Eli. You’ve always been a little grumpy and mean, but your heart’s in the right place.”
His words soothed the storm in my mind with ease and it fascinated me what an influence this man had on me. His hand rested on my waist, giving me the strength and hold I didn’t know I needed.
I was ready.
“Right before our junior year, my mom died. It was completely out of nowhere. She was driving home from work and was beelined by a truck driver who hadn’t seen the red light. She died on site. ”
It’s been so many years since Mom died, but I still couldn’t think about that day without tears. They gathered in my eyes until it was too much tension and they slid down my cheeks and onto Peter’s shirt.
“I’m so sorry, Eli. I didn’t know.” His voice broke at the end, and I felt him leaning his face into my head and his fingers gripped around my waist.
“How could you? I didn’t really communicate it. Mihaela knew, of course, but Dad didn’t even tell the teachers. He said they wouldn’t care, anyway.”
“I’m sure a few of them would have cared. This must have traumatized you so much. How could you focus on school back at that time? I don’t know if I would be able to.”
“Well, I had to. Dad made me.”
His biceps tensed as if he had an idea where this was heading towards.
“Made you?” he asked, carefully.
How much should I tell him? I couldn’t risk him realizing that I indeed tend to be a burden to others, even though my therapist always said that it was not true. He didn’t know me at all.
“Failure was never an option. Dad wanted me to have the best grades so I could get a scholarship and he didn’t have to pay for college. So he always made me put school first, no matter what circumstances we were in. Anything below an A wasn’t acceptable, a C was a personal offense towards him. So I gave my best because I didn’t want to disappoint him. Or Mom.”
Peter was silent, but I could hear his quickened heartbeat that was showing me that this conversation was bothering him. I just didn’t know yet to what extent.
“Eliana,” he started, but stopped again. I felt his Adam’s apple bop against my head when he swallowed hard.
“What did happen when you got home with a B or C?”
“That barely happened, Peter.”
“But what if? What if you brought a grade below his expectations?”
I didn’t dare to answer him. I was surprised about his question, but the tension in his body told me a lot. Peter Davis had never known anything about me, but it took him only a few sentences to get the whole picture. I was shocked and fascinated at the same time.
“Eliana…”
His hand caressed over my upper arm as if he was nudging me to answer him. I didn’t want to. He knew the answer, anyway. Why would I need to speak it out loud? I felt him exhale deeply into my head and a few of my baby hair got blown away.
“What did this asshole do to you?”
I didn’t know if this was a metaphorical or a real question, as Peter was holding a monologue by now. If I spoke it out loud, it became reality and I didn’t want to dig the memories out of the depth of my brain where I shoved them into a while ago.
“He’s not an asshole. He’s still my father,” I commented, but my voice was weak. My therapist would be mad at me. He tried so hard to make me understand that everything Dad did to me was wrong.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said, and my heart didn’t know how to react to that. We were so overwhelmed by all the emotions I haven’t felt in years. Peter’s gentle behavior, his protectiveness, and the calmness I felt the moment I was in his arms. But at the same time, the raging storm inside me, one half knowing that my father deserved the title of an asshole but the other, the traumatized child, still trying to defend him. He just wanted my best, didn’t he?
“He never really wanted to hurt me. He is just very…emotional.”
“Eli,” Peter whispered softer than ever, and the sound of it opened the floodgates and made me start to cry once more. The sadness in his voice, the sound of helplessness, anger, and frustration. That man managed to press all this in a two-syllable word.
“Shh. It’s okay. I got you, Cinnamon. I got you.”
Cinnamon?
Did he just call me Cinnamon? It was the sweetest pet name I’ve ever heard and I liked it. I really liked it.
“He meant good. I know it. He was just overwhelmed since Mom died, and didn't know what to do with a teenager.”
“How often?”
“Peter…”
“How often, Eli?”
“Every other day.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Peter exclaimed loudly and I had to close my eyes to shield him off. Mihaela had reacted the same when I told her about the beating, but I couldn’t understand. It wasn’t that bad, actually. Just a slap here and there. And only when I disappointed him so he had the right to be angry, didn’t he?
“It wasn’t actually…” I started, but Peter interrupted me immediately.
“Eli, you don’t have to talk about this now. I understand. It’s a strange situation for you. I just want you to know that as long as I live, this man will never touch you again. I will protect you, Cinnamon. I promise.”
His lips landed on my head again and he pulled me closer with both arms like he was building a visible shield with them.
“Thank you,” I cried into his shirt, and even though it was physically impossible, he tried again to wrap tighter around me.
“No one will ever hurt you again, Cinnamon. Not under my watch.”
And with Peter's lips on my head, my heart beating faster than ever, and my mind going crazy, the mixture of painkillers and emotional overwhelming did a good job in lulling me to sleep. Because I knew I was safe within the arms of this man and nothing would happen to me.
We would deal with the rest later.
For now, it was only Peter, and me, and the bubble of protectiveness and love we shared.