Chapter 36
Ellie
I’m not sure if she’s following me, I’m not sure if I even care as I rush down the stairs to the front door of the coach house. The team are still gathered in the common room, and I hear Sanya call after me before I run out into the damp morning, but I don’t stop— can’t stop.
I spot a head of red hair as I race towards the stables. “Rory!” I shout, snapping his attention away from the wheelbarrow he’s pushing. The expression on his face morphs from confused to knowing as I near, and by the time I’m within spitting distance he’s got a smile on his face.
He extends his right hand, his car keys dangling from his fingers. “Just bring her back in one piece.” He smirks as I snatch the keys and sprint towards the rear car park. “Go get your lad!” He shouts after me and I feel a smirk growing on my own face.
That same smirk stays with me as I throw myself into the small car and peel out of the car park, spraying small pieces of gravel everywhere.
My mind is a chaotic jumble of thoughts and emotions as I make my way down the winding country roads. But my heart is practically singing in my chest, and my brain doesn’t seem to have much to say about it—which I take as a good sign.
This doesn’t feel like the wrong decision, it feels so painfully right that I want to scream at myself for letting him leave by himself this morning. The words I want to say, the feelings I so badly want to share with him are building within me.
I need him to know, need him to hear me before he jets off back to America.
Thirty minutes into my white-knuckle drive, my brain decides to pipe up and remind me that I don’t have my phone or my passport, so I have no way of contacting Colton or rushing through the majority of the airport to catch him before his plane leaves. I don’t even know which flight he’s on, but I know he’s probably flying into Dallas Fort Worth, because it’s near his hometown.
“It’s alright.” I tell myself, squeezing the pencil sharpener against the steering wheel under my palm, “You’ll make it in time.” I regulate my breathing, just like my therapist taught me while I speed along the damp, winding roads.
It dawns on me that I don’t know the exact route to the airport, but I drive in the general direction of London and feel an overwhelming sense of relief when little airplane icons start popping up on the road signs.
I’m close now, so close that my skin starts to prickle, my spine starts to tingle. I’m jittery and full of anxious energy as I turn into the departures car park.
It’s only as I hop out of my car and sprint through the car park towards the terminal that I start to question myself .
What am I even planning to do, exactly? Beg him to stay? Beg him to let me go with him? I have the rough concept of a plan in mind, a plan that would require me to actually be able to have a discussion with him and explain what he means to me before getting to the ins and outs of said plan—which obviously won’t work if he’s already in the air, or past security.
I’m starting to lose the very loose grip I have on my anxiety as I rush through the doors into the terminal. It’s the summer holidays, which means the airport is filled to the rafters with traveling families.
I have to sidestep several young children on leashes and a handful of fast-moving baggage trolleys just to get within viewing distance of the departures board.
I manage to claim a small area between a coffee shop and a newsagent as I scan the black screen, desperately looking for a sign that his flight has been delayed, or canceled.
“Please,” I whisper to myself, my eyes flickering over the dimly lit board. My breaths are rapid, uneven, until they stop altogether.
My eyes land on what has to be his flight— LDN — DFW —and the green, pixelated word next to it.
Departed.
I feel like I might fall to my knees, the people moving around me fade into nothing, the general airport commotion silences .
I’m too late.
The doubt and fear start to creep in at the corners of my delicate mind.
What if he gets back to Texas and realizes he feels absolutely nothing for you?
You couldn’t even bring yourself to say goodbye to him this morning, you packed his bags and waved at him for Christ’s sake.
He’ll forget all about you within a week.
Last night didn’t mean as much to him as it meant to you.
I’m still hopelessly staring up at the departures board as a tear creeps down my cheek, followed closely by another, until I’m silently sobbing in a space filled with people. The pencil sharpener in my palm feels like a brick and it’s a struggle to keep a hold of it as I try and fail to catch my breath.
Someone brushes past me, another wheels their suitcase uncomfortably close to my toes as I find myself rooted to the spot.
I feel a presence at my back but I’m unable to move, unable to tear my blurry eyes away from the pixels on the board as the presence draws closer.
“Don’t let them see you cry, sweetheart.” Colton’s voice tickles the back of my ear, and I whip my head around to see him standing behind me, his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.
My skin pickles, the sounds and movements around me blur completely as I take in his face, the way he smiles down at me, the way his blue eyes consume me.
“You missed your flight?” I rasp as he dries the tears from my cheeks with a gentle thumb.
“No,” He shakes his head, a half-smile on his lips, “I just forgot something.”
He freezes, the half-smile disappearing from his face as his eyes lock onto my swollen cheek. “What the hell happened?” The muscles in his arms tense as he brushes his thumb below the lesion.
“I’ve been kicked out and disowned, effective immediately. I finally told my mother the truth. I don’t want to be an Olympic athlete, I never have.” I manage a feeble smile, the words make more tears well in my eyes, “It’s taken me far too long, but I don’t think she ever really loved me. Not in the way she was supposed to.” The look in his eyes has the tears spilling onto my cheeks again.
“Come here,” He whispers before dropping his duffel to the ground,
I throw my arms around his neck, pulling him close as I mutter incoherent apologies into his chest. He wraps his arms around me, pressing kisses to the top of my head as he strokes my hair.
“I should have told you,” I weep, “I should have told you how much you mean to me, how important you’ve become. Sometimes I feel like such a feeble, broken excuse of a woman—but these past few weeks, with you, I’ve felt solid, like I’ve been pieced together, like I’m strong and immovable. And that’s not your job, to piece me back together, but it’s almost like a happy side effect of just being around you. When I’m with you I feel complete and I am so terrified of that going away—I thought that letting you go without a goodbye, without telling you these things, might make it easier. But I was wrong.” I loosen my grip on his shoulders, moving away from his chest.
He keeps a loose grip on either side of my face, “I should have marched myself into that coach house and told you all of the things I needed to say to you, too.” He pauses, his jaw working, “Ellie, I feel things for you that words can’t convey. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life and I don’t want to be without you, and I couldn’t get on that plane without you hearing those words from my mouth.”
We stand in silence for a moment, soaking in each other’s words as the world continues to spin around us.
“So,” He breathes before pressing a kiss to my forehead, “Where do we go from here?” A dimple appears on his right cheek as his smile grows.
“Well, you need to catch the next flight to Texas,” I lift my eyes to his, “Wyatt and Meemaw are expecting you, but I have a plan I’d like to run by you.” His brows lift as both of his dimples make an appearance .
“I’m listening.” He nods, his eyes piercing mine.
I take a deep, calming breath, “For weeks now, I’ve had this... crazy idea. I even ran it past one of my financial advisers and he only had good things to say about it. A portion of the fund my father left for me has to be spent on real estate—an investment of sorts. There are no stipulations beyond that, and it’s been sitting for years, untouched.
It’s quite a large sum, and... I’d like you to use a decent portion of it to fix up the ranch. Perhaps you could turn it into a retreat, a holiday spot with cabins—whatever you want, really. It’s yours. I know you’ll make a success of the ranch without the money, you’ll make a success of whatever you choose to do in life. But this could make your life— Meemaw and Wyatt’s lives—just a little easier.”
He stares at me before blinking once, then twice.
“And maybe,” I continue, running a gentle hand down his forearm, “I could come and visit, now and then... Now that I don’t have to worry about the team or practicing every single day, I’ll have far less on my plate.”
“No more tape analysis?” He offers with a raised brow.
“No more tape analysis!” I echo with a smile that makes my cheeks ache.
“Well, Ellie, that’s real generous of you, but,” I prepare myself for the rejection, for him to tell me that he doesn’t want the money, “I don’t think you should visit. ”
My heart plummets. “Oh,” I manage to choke out.
“I don’t think you should visit because v isit sounds far too temporary. I think you should be there to supervise every step of the project, hell, if you leave it to me and Wyatt, your advisers won’t see a return on that investment for the next thirty years.”
“You—you want me to come and stay? With you?” My heart reenters my chest cavity and I feel a heady sense of elation as he slowly nods his head. “On the ranch?” I breathe as a cautious smile tugs at my lips.
“I would like that very much.” He pauses, brows furrowing slightly as his mouth opens, “I love you, Ellie, I don’t want to be without you. And I don’t want you to have to be anywhere near anyone that makes you feel like you’re anything less than perfect.” His thumb hovers over my throbbing cheek again and I watch as his jaw clenches. “Where’s better than halfway around the world? You’ll be free to do whatever the heck you want to do with the ranch—I’m sure Meemaw and Wyatt will have some ideas, and we can all work it out together. You can paint, draw, ride, do whatever pleases you on any given day. And you can be with me,” His breath catches in his throat, and he presses his lips together as tears begin to well in his own eyes.
I press my hand to the side of his face, marveling at the way his skin feels under mine, the way I feel like I could keep it there forever and delight in the way his hair falls over his forehead to tickle my knuckles .
“I don’t need convincing,” I smile up at him as he presses his cheek into my palm, “Because I love you, Colton. And I’d go anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”