Chapter Eighteen
Elijah
Well, you sure don’t look fresh as a daisy this morning,” John comments, and I drop my work bag onto my desk with a thud.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you only hired me for such shallow reasons as my appearance.”
The words leave my mouth before I can think better of them, and I take a deep breath to ward off the rest of my desire to snap and tear him to pieces verbally.
Wrong target, Eli.
“I certainly didn’t hire you for your sunny disposition, either,” he grumbles back, turning to make himself a cup of coffee at the bar across the room.
I sigh. “Sorry, sir. I’ve had a long night.”
As I begin to unpack my things, I can feel my boss turn to look at me while he sips from his mug.
“I take it going to Rowan’s house didn’t go so well?”
“No, it didn’t. Some girl was there,” I say.
John audibly chokes on his coffee, and I eye him for a moment before I plop down into my office chair in defeat.
“A girl? At Rowan’s?” When I nod, John gives me a quizzical look. “Are you sure? He’s never so much as looked at a woman from town.”
“She wasn’t from town. I’ve never seen her before. He told me that they’re friends.”
“Oh, then what’s the problem?” John asks the question as if he thinks I’m crazy for being in a mood over this.
“The problem is that she was half naked. And on top of that, Rowan has banned me from coming into his house because of privacy reasons, but this woman can stay the night.”
“Oh.” John frowns deeply, leaning back against the counter as he thinks for a moment. “Yes, that is very weird. You’ve been inside before, ya?”
“Yep. Doesn’t make any sense, right?”
“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees.
Great, so I’m not crazy after all.
I was up all night wondering if I was being dramatic or sensitive about the whole situation. Replaying the day’s events over and over while I try to make sense of them.
But nothing began to pan out differently, and no matter how I spun it, it’s fucking weird.
Rowan came all the way to my apartment, most likely after Marissa told him I had come by. He looked as if he threw on the closest articles of clothing to him, and his face told me he was in a straight panic.
Pleading and desperate, he stood on my doorstep.
But what was I supposed to do? When I asked him why she was allowed in his space, yet I am not, and Rowan said nothing—only looking at me as if I’d pulled a rug out from under him—was I supposed to just accept this outcome?
Was I intended to see the panic in those vivid green eyes and comfort him?
I know nothing of the way the emotions of this world work, and I find it incredibly unfair to be put in this position.
Am I meant to hurt myself for his comfort? Or am I right to run?
And fuck… I miss him. I miss his voice and his warmth and the future his comfort promised me.
Without realizing it, I had begun to picture a world in which the two of us were together. Maybe that is my one issue.
It is quite embarrassing to be twenty-six and to be falling so quickly. Wanting a future with someone after two and a half weeks? I may not know much, but even I feel that is pathetic.
“Whatever,” I say to John, setting my laptop down rather hard after I pull it from my bag. “I don’t need a boyfriend, anyway. I’ve spent my entire life being happier alone; I don’t need to become suddenly reliant. Hook-up culture has never failed me.”
John’s worried gaze continues to cut into me as I pull up our website and open a few documents I’ve been working on. He says nothing further, which I am eternally grateful for. I fear that if he pushes any more, I might break down and cry.
Battling this ache in my chest and this increasing anxiety all on my own is already hard enough; adding pressure from an outside source will only make things worse.
Ironically, I’ve heard from my family more than what should be considered necessary that I should make myself more vulnerable to others. Well… was this vulnerable enough?
Maybe I should ask.
It would be nice to see them again; a surprise visit to my parents’ house could be fun.
“John, would it be okay if I took tomorrow off? I’d like to fly home and see my family. I’ll be back Sunday night if it’s fine.”
John nods quickly, contemplative eyes trained on the floor by his shoes. “Of course. We’re doing well on deadlines, so you’re fine.”
“Thank you.”
I’ll call my mom when I land and let her know—she doesn’t work anymore, so she can pick me up from the airport. It’ll be nice to feel some normalcy, to remind myself who I am and how I’ve survived for so many years.
I don’t need Rowan; I don’t need love or human contact.
And as I check my phone again and see no new notifications, I remind myself of this again.
“So you’ll be gone for three days?” Bennett asks as I eat my dinner, his chin resting in his palm as he watches me.
“Yeah, something like that. I’ll be back Sunday.”
Tabitha’s Place is decently busy for a Thursday night, but there are still a few empty tables littered around.
Bennett took his break as soon as my food was ready, choosing to spend it at my table to keep me company.
“Are you excited to see your family?”
I shrug. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to see my sisters, even if they’re a lot.”
I wish I could feel how much I missed them; instead, I just have a dull reminder in the back of my mind that things were a bit more comfortable with them around.
“Sisters? You have multiple?” Bennett questions, and I realize I’ve never really told him much about myself.
“Yeah, I have two. They’re older than me, so they’re kind of difficult, but they can be nice.”
“Damn,” he laughs, reaching over to steal one of my fries. “No wonder you’re so indifferent. Growing up as the baby of two sisters must have been hard.”
“I wouldn’t say hard. Overwhelming? Exhausting? Humbling?”
Bennett laughs again, leaning back against the red leather of the booth. His blond hair is uncovered today, and his bright blue eyes are watching me with great interest.
Maybe I should have focused on him when I came to Fort Myers. I should have ignored John’s request to interview Rowan and jumped Bennett. But now I look at him, and I see in all the ways he doesn’t compare.
But would he hurt me? Or would he treat me as his god?
“I’m an only child, so I don’t understand that sentiment. But I respect your love for them. It sounds like you’re close,” he says.
Love?
Ha. Right.
Could I explain it to Bennett? Could I tell him I’ve never felt love before, not even for my family? And that the closest I ever got to it was a man I met when I moved here? No, I shouldn’t.
Anytime I try to explain past ‘I’m not very emotional’ the way I did to Rowan over text one night, people tend to assume I’m a sociopath.
I’m not a sociopath. At least, that’s what the doctors said. I’m just… detached.
“Yeah. Siblings are an experience,” is what I say instead, and Bennett offers me a soft smile.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I turn to look out of the window next to us.
I don’t see anyone on the grass in the middle of the square, or anyone walking on the sidewalk. Even the bluebirds have flown south for the upcoming winter.
I guess this is what happens when you miss someone: you manifest them everywhere. I wish Rowan were here now—watching me from across the diner or standing in the grass so many feet away.
I’m learning how to long for him one day at a time. It’s a painful, tiresome trek that is draining me of happiness and hope.
Fuck him. And fuck this.
“Well, I should get going. I need to pack. The only ticket I could find at the last minute was a 9 a.m. flight, so I have to get up pretty early.”
Bennett nods, grabbing my half-finished plate.
“Come see me when you get back, yeah?” he asks, giving me a bright, hopeful smile.
“Sure,” I answer noncommittally.
Bennett watches as I leave the diner, and even as the doors shut behind me, that feeling of being watched lingers.
Rowan tries calling me multiple times throughout the night, so I eventually turn my phone off. I received a single text message from him a little bit after dinner, and I chose to ignore that, too.
Rowan 6:51 p.m.
Can I come by? I really want to talk this out. I don’t want to lose you.
It did not hold the answer as to why I’m banned from his house, and it was once again him wanting to come to my apartment. So, no, we can not meet up, Rowan. I’m done.
I’m not going to let this continue; I’m not going to let myself become anymore attached to him. All of these spiraling emotions and desperate desires to see him stem from him being the first man I had feelings for. That’s it. And I’m not a child—I can see how this will end.
I will let him hurt me; I will forgive him too easily because of this. It’s too dangerous.
I have to protect myself before I can give in to my wants or this pull in my chest. No matter how much I feel like dying, no matter how similar this feels to falling from a height I cannot calculate to an unprotected ground below.
I taxi to the closest airport, arriving at 7:30 a.m. sharp.
It’s small, so the security checkpoint is only a three-minute walk from the entrance. It’s also insanely dead, being the end of October. I guess no one travels during this specific holiday.
I’ll be spending Halloween with my family, which means handing out candy to the neighborhood kids. I’m not the biggest fan of this activity, but I won’t have much of a choice once I arrive.
I approach security, handing over my driver’s license and my plane ticket. Once I’m ushered through, I make quick work of removing my shoes and placing all of my things into the small bucket that is rolled through the X-ray machine.
A minute or two later, I’m on the other side and heading toward my gate. Only, as I’m about to round the corner, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end again. My phone buzzes from my back pocket.
Pulling it free, I see an incoming call from Rowan. And looking over my shoulder to the opposite side of security, where family and friends can watch their loved one depart, I spot him standing beneath the screens that display incoming and outgoing flights.
Rowan looks incredibly disheveled, and those wide green eyes are openly pleading with me. What is he asking? What is he doing here?!
How Rowan knew I was boarding a plane this morning, I have no clue. Maybe John spoke to him, or maybe he was dropping Marissa off and spotted me.
I watch him for a moment, my phone buzzing in my hand as he holds his own to his ear, urging me to pick up.
Rowan’s face falls as I slide the device back into my pocket, and then I turn on my heel and head further into the airport.