Chapter 3
Her dad always cooked too much for lunch on his days off, as if Daniel might burst through the door at any moment–even though he lived two cities over now.
Elowyn sat up slowly, rubbing her face, letting the familiar hum of the house soothe the leftover nervous energy tangled in her ribs from yesterday.
Yesterday.
She blinked hard, as if her mind were a snow globe someone had just shaken.
Ms. Monroe.
She swallowed, the memory of a tall figure in a tailored coat flicked through her brain like a glitch she didn’t know how to process.
But she pushed it aside for now.
Her dad was swaying to an old rock song in the kitchen, spatula in hand like a microphone. “Well good afternoon, fairy,” he said theatrically as she padded in.
She giggled lightly. She had stayed up far too late last night playing video games.
Walking over to her dad, she hugged his arm briefly before grabbing an apple juice from the fridge.
“You feeling okay? You were pretty quiet last night.”
“I’m fine,” she said softly, confusion etched on her face.
Her dad’s brows pinched, concern ready on standby, but before he could pry—
The front door slammed open with dramatic flair.
“Ellie my loveee!”
Only one person announced himself like a Shakespearean actor who’d gone to cosmetology school.
Will.
He swept into the kitchen like he owned the lease, tote bag swinging, curls bouncing, his baggy jeans swaying. He stopped dead the moment he saw her hands wrapped around her juice glass.
“Oh my GOD. Naked,” he whispered in horror. “You—you let your cuticles out in public like this?”
Elowyn blinked, glancing down at her hands, the polish still perfectly in place except for the small gap at the bottoms, indicating her nails had grown slightly. She had chosen to just paint her nails the last time rather than get her usual acrylics.
“I was literally in my bed.”
“Exactly! The shame!”
Her dad chuckled, already used to this performance. “There’s fresh bread if you want—”
“No time for carbs, Papa Gray. I’m here for beauty and salvation.” Will hooked his arm through Elowyn’s. “Come on, babe, manicure emergency.”
Elowyn let herself be dragged to the living room because resisting Will was pointless. He set up camp instantly— a box of acrylic nails, file, buffer, cuticle oil, tiny brushes, three pinks he was already agonizing over.
He pushed her gently onto the couch. “Choose your weapon.”
She pointed to the softest pink. “That one.”
Will gasped. “Baby’s breath pink? A classic. Subtle, gentle, romantic—”
“I just like the color,” she cut in.
“Mhm. Sure you do. Almond, medium length?"
"You know me too well." Elowyn grinned.
He began filing her nails with practiced precision, curls falling in his face, brows furrowed in concentration. The house was quiet except for the buzzing overhead fan and the clink of Will’s tools against a ceramic dish.
If she was being honest, she had no idea where she would have been if it weren't for Will.
School had always been tough for her, but she always had Will there. Right beside her.
They met in pre-school. It was Elowyn's first time away from home, and she was not having it–at all. She had clung to her father like a koala, refusing to let him go. With tears streaming down her face, she begged him to take her home–and he almost did.
The sight of his little fairy, face beet red from crying so hard, absolutely broke his heart. Her little voice pleaded with him to take her home, making him just want to sweep up her tiny body into his arms and do as she asked. Take her home.
But he couldn't.
So Atticus had to push his emotions aside for a moment and pry her small body off him and hand her to the teacher who was waiting there patiently.
Once he successfully did so, he crouched down to her level and held her delicate little face in his hands as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.
"Papa," She hiccuped through tears.
"I know, fairy. Papa has to go now." He smiled sadly, wiping her tears, while some were escaping his own eyes.
Behind them stood a little boy watching quietly. Observing.
And then–
The boy dashed to his backpack rummaged inside, then sprinted back to Elowyn with absolute purpose.
"HiI!" He announced, thrusting out his hand.
Elowyn flinched and shuffled back, overwhelmed.
"William, honey," the teacher intervened gently, grabbing and placing his arm at his side softly. "Remember how we talked about how some people don't like being touched?"
The boy nodded, very serious.
He tried again.
He stopped a short distance away... bowed like a tiny prince... and still bent in half, offered her a cracker in his outstretched hand.
Both Atticus and the teacher had to turn around quickly and cover their mouths, trying not to laugh too loudly.
"My name is William," he said solemnly. "And I'm giving you this cracker so you can feel better."
And from that moment on, they were inseparable.
Turns out that the pre-school teacher was actually Williams' mother.
So all throughout that first year of school, she had both Will and his mom looking out for her.
After that, school changed–teachers weren’t always patient, and kids weren’t always kind.
But Will?
Will handled everything.
Verbally, even physically when necessary.
Freshman year of high school, a boy was 'mocked her'.
He had begun walking down the hallway in a manner that one could only describe as the way zombies moved in the walking dead.
His eyes were crossed, arms flailing in an over-exaggerated way, all while making what sounded like gurgling and seal sounds all at once.
William calmly walked up to him, grabbed a fistful of the guy's hair, and slammed his face into the nearby lockers.
Then he turned and sashayed back to her with the limp-wrist gay bounce of a man who had no regrets.
Yeah. She would’ve never survived school without him.
“So,” he said slowly, “are you going to tell me why you look like your brain is buffering?”
Elowyn blinked. “I don’t look like that.”
“Ellie, you look like the rainbow wheel on old Mac computers.”
She picked at the couch cushion with her free hand. “It’s nothing.”
Will arched a brow. “Lies.”
“It’s… someone.”
His whole body froze. “Continue.”
“A woman,” she murmured.
Will let out a gasp loud enough to summon spirits.
“Elowyn! Why didn’t you lead with that?! Who? Where? How pretty? Was she gay? Was she too pretty? Did you panic? You totally panicked.”
“I didn’t panic,” she said, cheeks warming. “I just… met her.”
Will stared. Hard. “And? What, were you just walking around and ‘oops,’ tripped over a goddess?”
Elowyn tugged at her sleeve. “She came to the bookstore. Miss Loretta’s.”
“Ooh” Will set the file down dramatically. “A bookstore woman. Continue immediately.”
“She… um… she knew my dad. He does repairs at her company.”
“A CEO goddess. Drooling.”
“And she asked for a book recommendation.”
“A cultured queen. Delicious.”
“And she’s tall,” Elowyn whispered, like that was a crime.
Will’s grin turned feral. “Oh my god. You’re smitten.”
“I’m not,” she insisted, tugging her sleeve. “I just—she’s—she looked at me.”
“People look at you all the time babe, you're hot.”
She rolled her eyes as silence dropped over them.
Both Will’s expression and voice softened, almost tender. “Did it scare you?”
Elowyn hesitated. Then nodded once.
“Okay,” he said gently. “So is it the bad scared? Or the good kind?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured.
Which was true.
Her emotions often felt like tangled yarn. She could never quite name them fast enough, never label them the way other people seemed to be able to.
Will squeezed her hand lightly. “Then we’ll figure it out together. But for now? Let's finish up these nails.”
He picked the file back up, continuing his mission.
And Elowyn let the world go quiet again.