Chapter Thirty Ella
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ella
There are only six days left until Christmas, and almost everyone has left for the holiday already.
Gabi’s still here, zipping up her last suitcase, ready for her trip home to Puerto Rico.
I help her lug her bags downstairs to the waiting Uber.
We share a quick, tight hug, and she promises to send pictures of sunnier skies and clear-water beaches.
“Have a great time, Gabs,” I call out as she climbs into the car. She waves, all bright smiles and holiday excitement, then they’re off, pulling away from the curb. I trudge back up to our now too-quiet apartment. It’s strange, the sudden emptiness of it.
Hudson left yesterday, and saying goodbye was harder than I anticipated. So much so that I almost went with him. He invited me, last minute, when he found out I’d be staying near campus alone.
It was thoughtful, maybe too thoughtful. Though he tried to play it off casually, I could tell he didn’t like the idea of me spending Christmas by myself. And while part of me was tempted to say yes, I said no—not just because it felt like a pity invite, but because it felt way too real.
I’d already stayed with his family for Thanksgiving, and now Christmas, too?
We didn’t dwell much on the goodbye, both of us aware of our growing attachment but too hesitant to voice it. This will be the longest we’ve been apart since we started hooking up, and it feels strange.
But I suppose it might be nice to be alone for a while.
It will give me a chance to explore the city, to clear my head and reflect on how I’m feeling.
I haven’t had the chance to visit Centennial Park or to go to the local museum yet.
It will be a quiet Christmas, undoubtedly. But it also might be kind of peaceful.
Just as I’m about to settle down with a book, there’s a knock at the door.
Assuming it’s Gabi—maybe she forgot something—I swing it open without a second thought.
But it’s not my friend who’s standing there; it’s Jamie, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other nonchalantly resting on the doorframe.
“Hey, Ella,” he says, his voice casual, as if dropping by unannounced is perfectly normal.
I frown, something sharp prickling at the back of my neck. The shock at seeing him instantly morphs into anger. “How’d you get in the building?”
“Someone let me up as they were heading out,” he says. “I must have a trustworthy face.”
“Or they’re a terrible judge of character.”
“Funny,” he mutters, his eyes already roving past me into the apartment. “Can I come in?”
“Why?”
“I want to talk. I’ve missed you, and I wanted to talk about your plans for Christmas.”
I sigh, pressing the heel of my hand against my forehead. “It’s not really your business anymore, is it?”
“We’ll both be in the same place at the same time, Ella,” he says. “And we’ve always spent Christmas Eve together.”
“We’re in the same place at the same time now. That doesn’t seem to matter much, does it?”
“It matters to me. I’ve missed you so damn much.” He scratches the back of his neck and takes a deep breath before pressing on. “I feel like I made a rash decision and screwed up something really great. It was a mistake, I think, the way that I did.”
I fold my arms tightly across my chest, my heart pounding. “It was rash, but that’s what you chose to do. You have to accept that and move on. I’m not going back to England for Christmas, anyway.”
“You’re staying here? Alone? That’s a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?”
A flare of irritation warms my cheeks. “My choices—how I spend my time or live my life—aren’t up for your approval anymore.”
He grimaces. “Is this about that guy? The hick with the truck?”
“Oh, my God.” I step forward, my movement sharp, pushing him back out of the doorway. “You need to leave.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He rakes a hand through his perfectly styled curls.
“You know I don’t care that you were with him, El!
I’ve been with someone else, too. She was nothing like you.
That’s what made me realize how great we are together.
She doesn’t laugh with me, doesn’t boost me up when I’m down.
She isn’t ambitious and driven and perfect like you are. ”
“I’m not perfect.” My voice is steady as I wipe my palms down the front of my jeans. “And Hudson is nothing like you, either. For me, that’s a good thing.”
“Right. Well, I don’t see him here with you now,” he declares, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
“I can stay in Nashville for the holidays, too. If it means we can spend some time together. If it means you don’t have to be alone.
” He steps forward. “I know you’ve always been kept at arm’s length by Simon and Louise, and I want to be there for you. ”
He calls my parents by their first names, as if he shares a level of familial closeness with them. We both know that’s not the case.
My parents barely tolerated Jamie the whole time we were together. They’d sit across from him at dinner, their smiles tight, nodding along to his stories about market trends and ski trips, all the while giving me looks that said, “Really, Ella? Him?”
And here’s Jamie now, bordering on pitiful, offering to stay in Nashville just for me.
“I don’t want that,” I say firmly, trying to convey with my tone that this isn’t just a casual dismissal but a concrete ending. “You chose for us to break up, Jame. I’ve got used to life without you, and, frankly, I prefer it.”
He rears back as if struck, his blue eyes widening. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” I assert, and as I say it, the words settle deep inside me, a truth I hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. I really am over him. It hurt so much in the beginning, yes, but what I’ve built here over the last six months has already filled the hole he left behind.
“What do I have to do to make it up to you? Get on my knees and beg?” His words hang between us, heavy and awkward.
I stare at him, knowing Jamie Baker would never allow himself such humility, not truly. But then, to my astonishment, he does just that. He drops to his knees right there in the dusky hallway, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, head bowed.
It’s theatrical, and for a moment I’m too shocked to speak. I reach down to pull him up, tugging at his elbows, but he’s solid, immovable—a boulder of stubborn pride.
“Please, just go,” I beg, my voice breaking around the edges.
Finally, he stands, brushing off his knees, his face set in a mask of resignation. “Fine,” he concedes, “but I’m staying nearby for the break. I’ll be around. And when you’re lonely on Christmas Eve, I know who you’ll call.”
When he turns to leave, I slam the door behind him, leaning against it as I slide to the floor. My head is in my hands and my heart is in my throat, a lump I can’t swallow.
I know I’ve relied on Jamie too much in the past, looked to him to fill the voids left by distant parents and a small social circle at Oxford. But I’ve grown, changed, and I won’t make that mistake again.
For the next couple of days, I scramble to occupy every spare minute of my time with reading and journaling.
But my attempts to relax are futile. Every creak of the floor, every unexpected thump from the neighbors, stirs a flutter of panic in my chest. I’m on edge, half-expecting to open the door to Jamie again, that same look of raw desperation in his eyes.
As Christmas Eve inches closer, the quiet around me continues to thicken. It’s just four nights out when a sudden thud in the hallway jolts me from my book. It’s past midnight—that time where every tiny creak and echo seems louder, more sinister.
Impulsively, I grab my phone, thumb flicking to Hudson’s contact. I don’t know why, and I don’t have the mental energy to question it right now. I type out a text about how unnerved I am but pause, second-guessing the impulse to share my fears.
My thumb hovers, then retreats. Instead, I type out something lighter.
Ella: how’s Sourdough doing?
I watch, my heart ticking in time with the blinking dots, as Hudson types, then stops, types again. His reply finally appears.
Hudson: you’re really asking about my cat at this hour? Ella: of course. time stops for no man. or cat, rather Hudson: he’s having a grand old time Ella: that’s nice Hudson: everything okay with you?
A pause. I chew on my lip, debating.
Ella: I’ll be fine Ella: I mean, yes. it’s nothing
And then my phone rings, slicing through the quiet as Hudson’s name flashes on the screen. My pulse stumbles, then steadies. I hesitate for a heartbeat before answering.
“Hey,” I murmur.
There’s a pause, then his voice fills the room, deep and reassuring. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” I press my hand to my chest, the warmth of his attention creating a knot of something sweet and heavy in my stomach. “Just a bit shook-up is all.”
“What happened?”
I bite down on my lip, wrestling with the decision to tell him. It’s a bit out of our wheelhouse, though things have shifted between us lately. “I … it’s no big deal.”
“I know you well enough to know when you’re lying to me,” Hudson says, his voice like gravel.
“Fine. Strong-arm me into it.” I give a humorless laugh.
“Jamie stopped by the day Gabi left. He was … pretty insistent on sticking around Whitland once he learned I’d be here.
Now I’m just … I don’t know. It’s not that he’s a scary guy.
He’s never been violent around me, but there’s something desperate about him. ”
“He knows you’re there alone?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You should leave,” he says, his voice sharp. “Come to Texas. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone all break, anyway. And right now, I really fucking hate it.”
“Hudson, I can’t.”
“You can,” he argues. “Get a one-way. We’ll drive down to NOLA for the Sugar Bowl and then head back after the new year.”
The Sugar Bowl—that was the big news from the day after the party, the result of Selection Saturday.
Whitland’s been chosen to play against the Chargers—one of the Big 12—on New Year’s Day.
It’s a big deal, not just for the players but for all of us on the cheer squad, too. An honor and a challenge.
And now, maybe, a timely escape.
“Hudson,” I say quietly.
“Darlin’, same rules go for you. Quit saying my name unless you’re tryin’ to tell me you’re in love with me.”
“Fuck you, Fox,” I tell him, but the words are soft, lacking any real heat.
“You already have,” he says coolly. “Look, I’m gonna call Harlen and tell him to head over to your place. He’s still on campus, and you shouldn’t be alone with your creep of an ex out there. Harlen can sit outside your apartment tonight. He’ll stay in his car if you don’t want to let him in.”
“That’s far from necessary,” I protest, though a part of me is relieved by the offer.
“Come on. Just do me this one thing.”
“What if I take the first flight out in the morning?” I suggest with a soft sigh. “Harlen can give me a lift to the airport. But that’s it.”
He’s quiet for a while, and then, “Okay, it’s a deal.”
“I guess … I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“See you then.”
When he hangs up, I quickly book myself a ticket. The confirmation hits my email, and the soft ding of the notification brings a reluctant grin to my face. Despite the coiling tension, booking the flight feels like I’m stepping forward, not back.
Maybe it’s the thought of getting away from here, or maybe it’s just knowing that Hudson cares enough to ensure that I’m okay. That he cares enough to listen to me when I put my foot down. Either way, I find that sleep comes a bit easier now.