Chapter 19 #2
Elle lifts her head, and yeah, I know it immediately. I messed up. Her lips part again, searching for the right words. Maybe there’s an easier version of the truth she wants to say. But the fact that she even has to think about it? That’s the part that kicks me square in the chest.
Then she says, “I mean…it looks bad. Like it hurts.”
I huff out a laugh. “Flattering.” I try to smirk, but it’s tired, same as the rest of me. “You sayin’ I’m only easy on the eyes when my face isn’t rearranged?”
She presses her lips together. There’s that look again. “I’m saying you shouldn’t be getting hurt like this, Stan.”
Those words land harder than any punch I’ve taken. Not for me, she doesn’t say that part at the end, but it echoes in my head. She hates that I’d let myself get wrecked for her. But I would again and again. It’s a miracle I don’t say that out loud.
I just lean back in my chair, stretching my arms over the top like I’m fine. I’m playing cool and casual, hiding how I’m slowly being sliced by her voice.
“Eh, I’ll live. Got a thick skull,” I mutter, tapping my temple. “One of my better qualities. That and an unhealthy talent for screwing things up.”
She doesn’t laugh again, or smile. She keeps watching me. It makes me twitchy. So I talk.
“Besides,” I go on, aiming for a lighter tone, “Sterling’s the broody one. If I start acting mopey too, who’s gonna keep the vibe up around here?”
That earns me a little laugh from Elle. Barely there, but I’ll take it. A win’s a win.
The silence creeps back in after that, though. And it’s heavier than before. My knee starts bouncing. Can’t help it. My body’s still got that jitter from cutting myself off cold, and my heart—yeah, it’s not doing much better.
I shouldn’t be here. I know it. Shouldn’t be looking at her like she’s the light at the end of a tunnel I crawled through broken glass to get to. But I can’t leave without knowing.
“How have you been?” I ask, voice rough, tight in the throat.
She doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes drift to him. To Sterling. And then, god, she blushes. Pink creeps up her neck, paints her cheeks, even dusts the tips of her ears. And I just sit there, watching it happen. Like a punch to the gut with no windup. I grind my teeth, trying to breathe past it.
It’s fine. She’s safe. She’s healing. That’s what matters. But damn if it doesn’t rip me in two.
She finally looks back at me, and clears her throat as if it could erase the pretty pink from her perfect skin. It always looked good on her. But I don’t want Sterling to be the reason.
“Sterling’s been…” Her voice is careful. “He took me away. He’s been getting me through—”
She stops like the words are too heavy. So I say it for her. “Withdrawals.”
The word hangs there, dangling ugly. Elle barely hisses in a breath. It sounds more like a sigh of sad acceptance.
I nod slowly, breathing out through my nose. I knew. Of course I knew. One look at her—how pale she was—and I knew. And I did nothing. My fingers dig into my knee. Everything in me is splintering from the inside.
“If…” My voice cracks, but I push through it. “If there’s something I can do—anything—just say the word. I’ll do it.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t know what to do with the offer.
Maybe she doesn’t. I wouldn’t blame her.
I’ve given her more reasons not to trust me than to believe I’d ever show up for her the way I should’ve.
But still…I need her to know I will. Now.
Always. Even if it means walking away. Even if it means watching her fall for someone else. Someone who was there when I wasn’t.
I just want her to be okay, even if I’m not. I sigh out too hard, like my lungs forgot how to work. The air in the cabin feels like it’s shrinking around me. My skin’s too tight, like I’ve outgrown it all at once, and now I’m stuck trying to play it cool in a kitchen that doesn’t give me any space.
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, Elle.”
Her eyes go to mine. They’re so cautious, same as when she first saw me stepping into that sunroom.
Makes something inside me twist up. I hate it.
Hate that look. Hate that I deserve it. So I do what I always do.
Re-fucking-lax. Drop the shoulders, force a smirk, fall back into the easy charm that got me through every bad day before this one.
“I just needed to hear it from you.” My voice is rough around the edges, and I rub the back of my neck to give my other hand something to do. “Needed to know you’re okay. And if there’s anything you need from me, Elle, I—”
I stop myself. I can’t say what I almost say.
Can’t let her hear the full version of that thought.
That I’d disappear if it made things easier.
That I’d fade right out of the picture if that’s what it took for her to breathe easy again.
Because I would. Because I’ve been addicted to two things in my life.
And she was the one that ruined me more than the first ever could.
My mouth shuts, but my head’s still screaming. I shift on my feet, trying to stay still even though every part of me wants to bolt back into the woods.
I break the silence again. Because I can’t let it win. “Look, I don’t know how to say this properly—hell, when do I ever—but you gotta know I—”
Tears prick my eyes fast. I close them before there’s enough to fall. I can’t worry Elle like this. So I clear my throat. Try again.
“I’m sorry, Elle. For all of it.”
My hand rubs at my neck, then drops, useless. It’s shaking again. It isn’t from withdrawals this time. It’s from being too honest, and finally saying the words. Ones that have weighed a ton on my shoulders.
“I’ve been through it too. Goin’ cold, I mean. From Kys. I’ve been wreckin’ myself with it for years, Elle. But you”—I shake my head—“you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t sign up for any of this. And I hate thinking about how hard it’s been for you. What she did to you.”
My voice goes tight again, but I don’t stop. She needs to hear this. Or I’d die keeping it all in.
“I’m glad you’ve got Sterling.” I gesture vaguely toward him. “He’s doing right by you. And god knows you’re probably too good for either of us, but I’m glad it’s him. He’s a solid guy.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “I mean that.”
Each word feels like it’s got teeth. But I keep going, ‘cause she deserves to hear all of it. I deserve to hurt with every word I say out loud.
“If seein’ me makes things worse—if it brings up too much—I’ll go.” My hands form into fists. “I don’t want to be some fucked-up reminder of all the things you’ve survived. I’ll disappear, Elle. Say the word.”
My heart’s pounding when I look at her. I don’t look at Sterling, ‘cause I already know how this must look, pathetic and desperate. But I’m too far gone to care.
Then Elle smiles. And it fucking wrecks me. Worse than Sterling beating the shit outta me.
“I’m okay,” she says.
Heat shoots straight to my chest. Then she glances at Sterling, like she’s asking for permission, and he gives her the smallest nod.
“If Sterling’s okay with it,” she says, so damn soft, “I’d like for you to stick around.”
I freeze. Can’t move. Because I didn’t expect that.
My tongue forgets how to work for a second, so I just stare at her like the damn idiot I am.
Then she keeps going, because she knows I can’t stand silence.
How bad I want to fill the space. She’s doing it to comfort me, when she really shouldn’t care about me. After everything.
“We’re both going through…withdrawals, right?” Her smile’s the most brilliant thing. “Maybe it’ll help knowing we’re not alone in it.”
My shoulders drop. I nod. Can’t say a word still, so I just nod.
When I finally find my voice, I look at Sterling and smirk, trying to slide back into something lighter. “Guess that makes you babysitter of the year, huh? Two to wrangle now. Hope your patience holds up, Sterling.”
He doesn’t even blink when his gaze turns cold. Pointed right at me. Might as well be a gun. But nothing else happens. He sits there, still as stone. Whatever. I’ll take the silence over another fist to the face. I’m beat up enough for the day.
Elle looks between us. First, at me, and I can’t even pose pretty, ‘cause I’m bloodied and bruised and barely holding it together.
Then her blue eyes shift to Sterling. I’d be jealous as fuck, if it weren’t for how I see the way her gorgeous face lights up with recognition.
I guess she sees it now. The similar mess between me and Sterling.
For some reason, she doesn’t run from it. She stays. That gives me just enough to breathe properly again. So I keep going. It’s not like I ever needed permission to run my mouth.
“Come on, Sterling, you don’t have anything to say? Thought maybe taking care of Elle made you nicer.”
I glance her way, cocking a brow.
“He’s gotta be nice to you, right? Warming up a little? Or does he still have that big ol’ icicle shoved up his ass?”
Elle flattens her mouth down. But I see those cute corners of her pink lips twitch. It’s all I need to smile for real. Still, Sterling’s a goddamn statue.
I click my tongue. “Man, I feel like I’m sixteen again, tryin’ to piss you off just so you’ll show a little personality. Like old times, huh?”
Sterling gives me nothing. He glances at Elle’s untouched mug, then says, “Drink.”
He speaks gentle. But it’s firm enough that even I sit up straighter.
Elle doesn’t argue. She picks up the cup and takes a sip, checking his face for that tiny nod of approval.
Then Sterling’s up, moving toward the kitchen without a word, all smooth and efficient motion.
Boring. But what’s more important is my rumbling tummy.
I rub it as I watch him go and mutter under my breath, “If he’s not making food, I swear to god—”
Elle turns to me before I can finish. Her eyes meet mine, and it’s like the floor tilts under me a little. “How have you been feeling?” she says it so soft, so serious, as if I goddamn matter.