Chapter 10
Elijah
It's pissing down outside, and I'm already later than I wanted to be.
All I meant to do was grab some food for Willow—quick in, quick out—but of course, fate had other plans.
Mrs Wilson, the older lady who lives around the corner, somehow spotted me in the shop and immediately cornered me about an “emergency” with her car.
I wanted nothing more than to get home, feed Willow, and maybe take her for a quick spin on my bike to show her there are quiet corners of the city that aren't entirely chaotic.
But I had to help her because she makes the best damn lasagna and has a heart of gold, so I find myself standing there nodding like a fool and letting her lead me to her car.
Turns out the hissing sound is coming from her engine, which could be a fluid leak or the engine overheating. Either way, I had to call one of my guys to send a tow truck to pick it up and take it to the garage. That left me stuck with dropping Mrs Harrison at her house.
She wouldn't let me leave without tea and biscuits, launching into a long tirade about some cat that keeps sneaking into her garden and shitting in her plants. I found it hilarious. She did not.
Eventually, she let me go—but not before planting a wet kiss on my cheek and giving my ass a firm slap on the way out.
The woman always had a thing for me—probably had a crush since before her husband died—and she can't resist stroking my arms or poking at my dimples in my cheeks every time I smile.
She's well, she's mad. Completely mad, but I don’t mind her.
Climbing back into my car to make the trek to the shop for the second time, I tap the steering wheel absentmindedly as the rain lashes down harder, turning the streets into blurred reflections of yellow streetlights.
All I can think about is her. It's probably unhealthy how often she's on my mind these days—but I don't care.
Why fight something that actually makes me feel happy, even if she doesn't like me.
The streets are strikingly quiet for a summer afternoon, the typical English drizzle driving most people indoors.
I turn onto a narrow, tree-lined street, and through the sheets of rain, I catch sight of a figure beneath the sprawling branches of a large oak tree in a small park.
As I draw nearer, I realise they are cradling a small, drenched cat in their arms.
“Shit.” I know exactly who it is. Red hair plastered to her face, her cute superhero pyjamas clinging to her skin. There's no mistaking her.
I swerve the car onto the side of the road, ignoring the no-parking signs, and bolt towards her. “Willow!” I call, yanking the zipper down on my jacket as I close the distance.
Her head lifts slowly. Pale, shivering, her hair clung to her face, eyes bright and shiny from crying. My chest pounds. Kneeling in front of her, I notice the small cuts on her arm. They aren't deep, thank fuck, but it guts me that she felt the need to hurt herself.
I hope, desperately, that it's not what I think it is.
“What are you doing out here?” My voice softens, reaching out to wrap my jacket around her shoulders. It's big enough to swallow both her and her cat, who is stubbornly refusing to move, even though it looks pissed off to be here.
“I couldn't be in that house.” She croaks out, small and broken.
Now isn't the time or place to ask what's going on inside her head, or why she thought it was a good idea to sit in the rain with her damn cat. I push her damp hair back, wincing at how icy cold she is, silently cursing myself for being stuck at Mrs Harrison's place.
I don't say another word. Sliding one arm under her legs and hooking one hand under her arm across her back, I pull her close to my chest, careful not to jostle the fur ball.
Her small body moulds against mine as I carry her toward the car, the sun struggling to pierce through the grey, rain-heavy clouds above.
“Hold onto me,” I grunt. Without hesitation, she does, squeezing herself closer.
I open the door and help her inside, gently lowering her onto the seat.
After rounding the car, I climbed in next to her.
When I turn on the heater, the warm air hits us both immediately, providing a small comfort against the chill still lingering on her skin.
I take a slow breath to give myself a moment to regroup before finally turning to look at her properly.
I reach over the seat to grab my spare hoodie—it's always a good idea to keep one on hand, just in case.
Holding it out toward her, she casts a wary glance in my direction. “I need to get you warm,” I say with a sigh. Determined not to give her a chance to protest, I slip the hoodie over her head and gently pull it down until it sits comfortably.
Carefully, I free the damp hair from under the fabric, letting it fall over her shoulders, while her cat licks itself lazily.
“What happened?” I ask quietly, thumb brushing over the sleeve covering her arm.
Her green eyes are glossy, brimming with sadness so heavy it nearly knocks the air from my lungs. How the hell has no one seen this? She's screaming for help in plain sight, and watching her carry that kind of pain alone makes me sick.
“Rose kicked me out,” she says softly.
I still, completely. “She did what?”
She sniffles, letting out a short, humourless laugh. “Your precious wife kicked me out.” The words are hostile, but her lips tremble as she says them, betraying her.
I swear to fucking God that woman is infuriating.
My mam always knew. She told me, more than once, that she was wrong for me—said it with that look that always had me and my brothers shutting our mouths real quick.
She clipped me around the head a few times, too, back when I made the mistake of hurting Willow's dad, Leon. She always did say I’d find the right one when I wasn't looking.
I dismissed it at the time, believing I had found the right person.
Clearly, I hadn't.
I’m not exactly thrilled at the thought of my mam getting her moment to gloat when this finally unravels.
She’ll be insufferable about it, smug as sin.
The rest of my family never took to her either, never even tried to hide it.
Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they throw a full-blown divorce party.
Knowing them, there would be banners, cake, and someone making a speech about how long they’d waited for this day.
I soothe my hands along her arms, skirting the cuts, forcing my breathing to even out against the anger building under my skin.
“I need more than that.”
“Why?”
I still my movements but don't pull away.
“Because I just found you and your cat under a tree, in the pissing-down rain, cold, wearing those cute pyjamas—” my mouth twitches despite myself, “and you're miles away from anywhere familiar, in a place you barely know. So yeah, I need to know what happened.”
She scrunches her nose. “You think my pyjamas are cute?”
Christ. This woman. Out of everything I said, that's what she clings to.
“Were you even listening to me?”
“I was listening.” Her teeth chattered.
That's it, the final straw. I don't care if she doesn't like me. I’m not letting her freeze when I can do something about it.
I grip her sides and pull her over until she’s sitting on my lap, while Sassy jumps into the back. I wrap my arms around her securely this time, pressing her close to keep the warmth in. She lets out a startled sound and squirms, clearly caught off guard by the sudden move.
“What are you doing?” she rushes out, squirming again in my lap.
“Keeping you warm. So sit still and accept the help.”
She shifts once more, teeth still chattering, and I have to force myself to breathe through it—through the way her body presses far too close, through the way my cock hardens.
This is not the time for my body to betray me.
Eventually, she gives up.
Her movements slow, then stop altogether, and she eases back against my chest. My arms tighten instinctively, anchoring her there. Without thinking, my hand moves, rubbing her toned leg gently.
It doesn't feel wrong.
She doesn't pull away either. She doesn't tense. She just settles, fitting against me in a way that feels dangerously natural. I remain still, holding her steady, every nerve alive to her presence and the quiet intimacy of it.
It's quiet—too quiet. Just the steady sound of the rain on the roof and the slow rhythm of our breathing filled the space between us.
“Can you take your phone out of your pocket?” she asks softly, shifting again.
I lift a brow. “My phone?”
The moment stretches, then it clicks.
A low laugh slips out of me as she leans to the side, trying to get a proper look at my face. I take my cap off, push my hair back, and settle it again, watching her frown deepen with confusion.
“Not my phone, princess.”
Her eyes narrow first, suspicious or pissed that I called her princess again—they widen as realisation hits. She moves again, subtle but deliberate, like she's testing it.
I don't let her because I’m trying to be good, and what I want isn't what she needs right now.
It's also far from good.
My hands clamp gently around her hips, stopping her. “Don't; it's just a natural reaction to it being touched by a pretty girl.”
A very pretty girl.
She exhales, lips parting. “Elijah, you can't—”
I lift a finger and press it against her lips, smiling despite myself. “No more talking,” I murmur. “Let's get you warm and home before Sassy decides she hates me, and I embarrass myself.”
That earns me a quiet huff of laughter, but she moves again, just slightly, and Christ—it's been far too long. A few innocent movements, the curve of her settling against me, and my body is already betraying me.
She must feel it too and understand what I meant by embarrassing myself because she clears her throat and turns back toward the window, watching where rain streaks down the glass as if she’s suddenly very interested in the weather.
I don’t call her out on it. Instead, I drop my head back against the headrest and squeeze my eyes shut.
Think unsexy thoughts.
Naked old ladies.
Ezras’s bare ass.
Anything.
While we wait for her to stop shaking—and for my cock to finally calm the hell down—I can't stop the thought from settling in deep.
I want to make her laugh again. Properly laugh.
I want to be the reason her eyes light up instead of being filled with pain, the reason the weight she carries eases, even if only a little.
I want to take whatever hurt she's hiding and dull its edges, distract her from it, give her something better to hold onto.
I don't know when that want turned into need.
All I know is it's there now—and it's not going anywhere.
We finally make it back home.
She started to drift off against me, the cold and the exhaustion from the day finally catching up. I carefully put her back into her seat, buckled her in as her head bobbed slightly as she fought to stay awake.
Bloody stubborn.
Inside, Sassy is still snuggled in her arms, her long white fur a little messy from the rain, but I don't mention it. Animals understand far too much, and I’m not about to risk getting on her bad side.
I shut the door behind us and look down to meet her gaze. “Go on.” My lips lift slightly. “Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll have a latte ready, and then we'll be talking.”
She gives me an annoyed look, a clear sign she wants to argue, but she knows she doesn't get a choice. “Coconut?”
I grin, nodding. “Yes, coconut. Don't keep me waiting.”
Willow exhales and trudges toward the stairs, no fight left in her, when Rose rounds the corner. An ice pack pressed to her head, face twisted in fury.
“What is she doing back in this house?” Her voice cracks, practically a screech. My body stiffens, and I step in front of her before she can reach the stairs.
“Don't. I think you've done enough today.”
Rose's finger jabs at the air, shaking. “Did she tell you how she attacked me? There's something seriously wrong with her!”
I feel a jolt of irritation, fists clenching at my sides. “Don't you dare,” I growl. “I know you're far from innocent in this, so don't try that with me. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with her.”
The only one with a screw loose here is her.
“You're very lucky I haven't thrown you out of this house,” I continue. “So, before you try to kick someone else onto the street, remember I can do the same to you. Because, in case you've forgotten, I actually own this fucking house.”
“River will hate you if you kick me out.”
“Don't,” I hiss, moving forward. “You don't get to use him against me. Not again.”
She tried once, something I can't believe she would dare to do again. Her mouth opens, but I don't give her space to breathe.
“I consider myself a good man. But if you keep pushing me—if you keep hurting the people I care about, I will ruin you.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you threatening me?”
I laugh. God, I fucking hate her.
“I don't threaten,” I say coldly. “I’m warning you. And while you still live under my roof, you'll stay the hell away from Willow. That's not a suggestion.”
The front door opens before she can respond.
“Hey, guys.” River steps inside, all easy smiles and energy, dropping his bags by the door. He looks between us, brow creasing. “What’s going on?”
For half a second, I want to tell him everything. Rip the blindfold off and let him see the truth. The one thing stopping me is that he's got his final football game coming up in a month. I won't be the reason his focus cracks.
“Everything's fine. Your mum was actually just heading out to stay with a friend for the night. Thought she could use the break she so desperately needs.”
I glance at Rose, daring her to contradict me.
She hesitates. “I… I can go another time.”
River lights up immediately, bounding over and pulling us both into a hug like this family isn't breaking. “I’m gonna check on Willow,” he says. “Maybe we can watch a movie later?”
I try not to grimace at the thought of cosying up or being in the same room with her as he heads upstairs.
The second he's gone, I turn back to her. “You've got until his final game. After that, you're out.”
I head straight to my room, because staying anywhere near her for another second makes me want to launch myself out a window.
On the landing, I pause.
I can hear them—River and Willow—soft voices drifting down the hall, then a burst of laughter. Real laughter. It stops me in my tracks, and before I realise it, I’m smiling to myself.
I’ll do anything to make sure that sound never disappears again.
She deserves happiness. Deserves to fall in love with life again, and that starts with her love for dancing.
By reminding her how it feels to move without sadness, to lose herself in something she loves, to remember who she was before the world took her dad away. I don't know how yet, but I will.
It's a promise I make to myself that I refuse to break, and I never break my promises.