Chapter 33
Elijah
I usually enjoy game nights with my brothers and River. It's loud, competitive, full of shit-talking and cheap snacks.
It's our thing
But tonight?
I’d trade every round, every sarcastic comment, every dramatic accusation of cheating just to be stretched out on the couch with Willow tucked into my side.
I’d rather watch her smile at something ridiculous on the TV, feel her shake with quiet laughter against my chest, press a kiss into her hair when she doesn't see it coming.
But I’m stuck here with these idiots.
It's Sunday. I figured everyone would either be hungover and feeling sorry for themselves after the Halloween party last night, or Ezra would still be with the woman he took home.
Ezra looks like someone kicked his dog. If he had one.
Turns out the woman he took home left halfway through sex. Didn't give him the decency to fake a headache. Just got up and left. Pretty funny, to be honest, and everyone else agrees. But Ezra has been in a foul mood ever since, pretending he doesn't care while very clearly caring.
My mind keeps drifting to Willow.
She's at Quinn's tonight, and I’m glad. With Leon's birthday coming up, I didn't want her sitting all alone to dwell on it and upset herself.
I noticed she's been quiet the past few days, and then I found her this morning staring at her wardrobe.
Well, the boxes inside that she still hasn't unpacked.
She’s not spoken about them, and I've not asked.
Yet.
“I’m just saying, you don’t get to take the piss out of me when you're a fucking virgin, Ethan.”
I barely glance up from my cards as Ezra swings a punch into his twin's shoulder. Ethan recoils, shoving him back with an offended glare.
“I’m not a virgin,” he snaps, adjusting his glasses. “I just don't feel the need to dive into every woman's bed the second she looks at me, you degenerate.”
Ezra clutches his chest dramatically. “It's called being charming. You should try it sometime.”
“There's nothing wrong with having standards,” Elliot mutters from across the table, fanning his cards like he's presiding over a boardroom instead of game night. Calm. Judging. Mildly disappointed in our youngest brother. “I have plenty of fun with my wife. You're just a man whore.”
He scoffs before leaning over and shoving my arm. “Elijah. Back me up. Now that you're all single and ready to mingle, I’m not a whore, right?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose because I know he's genuinely asking. He wants validation from me. The man who has only been with two women.
And he absolutely knows I’m not single.
“Don’t drag me into your stupid arguments,” I mutter, sitting further back in my chair. “I’m Switzerland.”
“Switzerland?”
“Neutral and minding my own god damn business,” I reply dryly.
He narrows his eyes. “You used to be fun.”
“And you're still annoying.”
A cushion is launched at my head with impressive accuracy.
It hits me square in the face.
“Point made.” I drop the cushion beside me.
He turns, eyes lighting up when they land on Emmet. “Come on, Emmet. Back me up. You're all dark and brooding. Girls must be lining up outside your humble abode.”
I can't even hold it together. I start laughing before Emmet's expression fully settles into the kind of slow, deadly glare that would make most people reconsider their life choices.
Ezra, unfortunately, is not like most people.
“You've got to be joking,” Elliot says with a choked laugh. “Emmet doesn't speak to women unless it's Mum, Millie, or Aria. And even then, it's mostly grunts. Maybe a hiss if he's feeling chatty.”
River chokes on his drink.
Ethan pushes his glasses up, nodding thoughtfully. “Statistically accurate.”
“I hate all of you,” Emmet says boredly.
It's true. He doesn't speak much.
I've also never known him to have an actual girlfriend. No dates or anything.
But he's definitely not a virgin.
I know that for a fact because once, I found a pair of very small, very lacy thongs in his bedroom. I made the mistake of holding them up in front of him and asking if they were his.
Which resulted in a black eye.
Touchy subject, so I never asked again.
“Is anyone actually playing this game?” I ask, looking around the table.
Nobody is, because nobody has cards, as they've all been forgotten.
River is building a pyramid out of discarded cards.
The only person playing is Elliot.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You have shit cards, don't you?” I accuse.
No reaction.
Not even a blink.
The man could run a criminal empire with that poker face.
River leans over to peek at his hand. Elliot smoothly lifts the cards out of sight without even glancing at him.
Interesting.
Ezra squints. “Oh, he's plotting. That's his plotting face.”
“He always has that face,” I mutter.
“I have a beautiful face, thank you very much.”
We’re still locked in a staring contest across the table, both of us clutching our cards. Neither of us blinks.
“Can’t we just play Twister instead?” Ezra cuts in.
I don't even look at him, but I do notice Ethan turns his head toward his twin with another glare.
“That is a terrible idea.”
“Not if we had some girls here,” He argues back, grinning. “Hey, Riv, where's Willow?”
That breaks the staring contest.
I look at River just in time to see him pull a disgusted face.
“First of all, never think about my sister like that.”
Ezra rolls his eyes. “Relax. I wasn't picturing anything.”
“You were absolutely picturing something,” Ethan mutters.
“Secondly, she's with Quinn.”
He perks up at that just as Elliot opens his big mouth. “Quinn? Isn't that the girl you had a threesome with?”
I might actually kill him.
“You what?”
River does not look happy.
His chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he stands, jaw tight, ready to kill my brother.
Brilliant. Another fight I’m going to have to referee.
For once, Ezra actually looks guilty.
I kick Elliot sharply in the shins under the table, but he barely flinches.
“In my defence,” Ezra says quickly, throwing his hands up, “I was very, very drunk.”
That doesn't help at all.
River takes a step forward, and before he can fully launch himself at the idiot, Emmet calmly reaches out, grips the back of his shirt, and pulls him straight back down into his chair like he weighs nothing.
“We all want to kill Ezra, but I’m not cleaning up any mess tonight.”
Fair.
I silently question how on earth this is my family as Elliot stands, smoothing down his hair. “Quinn is into girls anyway. He probably didn't get anywhere near her.”
“So technically, Riv still has a chance.”
River surges up again, but Emmet hauls him down again.
“Can we please,” I say, rubbing my temples, “get back to arguing about you being a manwhore?”
“I’m not a manwhore, I’m just enjoying the single life.”
“And how many diseases have you caught enjoying the single life?” River asks.
Ethan makes a sound. “Well—”
“Don’t,” Ezra snaps.
I tune them out.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and the second I see Willow’s name flash across the screen, everything else fades into background noise. The irritation and exhaustion disappear at the thought of hearing her voice.
I stand without announcing it and walk out; their arguing voices trail behind me as I head into the conservatory. The glass is fogged slightly from the temperature difference, rain tapping softly overhead.
“Hey, baby. Is everything okay?”
“I’m okay,” she replies, her voice warm. “I just wanted to ring you while I walk home.”
I stop mid-step.
“You're walking?” I move closer to the glass, looking out into the dark. It's pitch black beyond the garden lights, drizzle misting the air.
“Why didn't you ring me to pick you up?” The thought of her alone out there—in this weather, at this hour—makes something protective and restless settle in my chest.
“I have rung you. And besides, I didn't want to interrupt your time with your brothers.”
She says it so sweetly, like my time and family matter more than her safety. I can't help the grin that pulls at my mouth, even if I’m slightly annoyed.
She honestly has no idea what I would actually do for her.
“Believe me,” I reply honestly, leaning a shoulder against the glass, “I would rather be with you than them right now.”
There's laughter faintly in the background.
“I’m serious,” I add. “Where are you?”
She hesitates, her breathing heavy. “A few streets over from where you are.”
I’m already reaching for my keys. “You stay on the phone. I’m coming to you.”
“You don't have to—”
“I know,” I interrupt gently. “I want to.”
A small pause as I pull on my jacket.
“Okay.”
And just like that, there's nowhere else in the world I’d rather be than walking through the dark toward her.