Chapter Twenty-Four
Rowan
The bird reserve in South Carolina is relentless. I’ve spent the past two hours drafting a singular email informing them that I will not be traveling to the East Coast next month.
It’s my fault, I guess—I shouldn’t have entertained the idea in the first place. I should have ignored their initial communication, but I have a weakness for reserves and the work they do.
The only difference between now and the ones I’ve worked for before is that these days I have something I refuse to leave behind. The thought of abandoning Elijah, even for a few short weeks, makes me nauseous.
Elijah Oliver Camry.
Just thinking of his name gives me chills. Being able to sit in the comfort of my home and relive all of the various moments I’ve spent with him is a gift I never intend on returning. It’s even better than the frequent dreams I have of Benjamin.
Like the other night when I watched him bathe in the sun as he laid out on the grass, or a few days before, when I spent a good portion of my afternoon recalling how soft he felt beneath my fingertips as I fucked him senseless in some random hotel room.
How am I meant to shove all of this aside and pack my bags? I just can’t. Plus, I’m still racking my brain for ways to let Elijah in on the past we share. I’m trying to sort out all the different avenues I can take to convince him that we’re soulmates.
It will be a difficult feat when he does not have the memories I do. What if he thinks I’m crazy? What if he runs?
I sigh, leaning back in my chair as I push the email to the side. I can respond to them another time.
My brain feels fried with all of the different possibilities swimming around me, all of them overshadowed by Bennett’s petty threat. Why can’t he just accept that Elijah chose me? What a coward.
Fuck, I kind of want to take a nap, and it’s not even lunch yet. When was the last time Elijah messaged me back? Earlier this morning when he woke up? What is he doing now? Maybe instead of napping, I should go into town and see what he’s up to.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three steady taps against my front door, and I immediately know who it is. Not only is he the only one who ever comes out to see me, but he delivers the same greeting every time. How cute.
I push away from my desk and head to the front door. I don’t bother changing out of my basketball shorts and my beater—I wasn’t meant to have company anyway. He should get used to seeing me dressed so casually.
I’m excited to see him—I was disappointed that my work and my desire to watch him from a distance were pushing our next date to the weekend.
Pulling the front door open, I find Elijah standing in front of me dressed for work, which is where he should be right now.
“Hey, angel. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be…” My voice trails off as I finally catch his expression.
He’s panting slightly, as if he raced here in a panic. Wide eyes follow my every movement, and a steady flush is spreading over his soft skin.
“I’m sorry about this,” he mumbles, and before I can blink, Elijah is pushing past me and into my house.
“Hey!” I shout, my entire body dropping in temperature as I realize what’s happening. What he might see. “Elijah, what are you doing?”
“If I’m wrong, I’m more than happy to apologize,” he says, and I trail behind him as he quickly moves throughout my living room.
His hazel eyes are taking in as much of his surroundings as they can at the speed at which he’s moving, and I find myself inches from him as I panic.
“‘You can’t just—”
“If I’m letting him get to me, you can be mad all you want, Rowan. But I have to check for myself.”
“Letting him get to you?” I repeat in question. Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. Bennett. “What did he say? Don’t let him drive a wedge between us, Eli.”
“How do you know who I’m referring to?” he demands, and I don’t respond as he hurries down the hallway to poke around my darkroom.
I try to remember if I have any photos of him lying around inside, but my mind is too scattered. Of course I can’t explain how I know that he’s talking about Bennett.
My palms rub anxiously at my shorts as I watch him, and Elijah seems to grow more and more relaxed with each moment he finds nothing incriminating.
And with every second he relaxes, my body locks up.
As he leaves the darkroom and enters my bedroom, I grab his arm. “Elijah, no. You’re invading my privacy.”
But I’m too late.
With his head on a swivel, Elijah takes in the state of my bedroom. The unmade bed, the notebook thrown on top of my dresser, my shoes lying discarded by the closet, and most importantly, the corkboard hanging by the door.
Elijah freezes when his eyes fall upon it, and I let go of his arm as he steps forward. All that can be heard throughout the silence of my bedroom is the sound of my own pounding heart.
There is nothing I can do now. I’ve been caught.
I shouldn’t have opened the fucking door. But I had no way of knowing he’d barge right in, and what’s worse than turning him away is completely ignoring him when he can clearly see my truck sitting out front.
Damnit. Fuck!
“Rowan,” he whispers, and I watch the horror spread over his features as he studies the different angles of him heading into work, eating at the diner, or walking across the grass in the town square.
Then he reaches forward and grabs one of the hanging sheets of notebook paper, ripping it from its thumbtack.
It’s the one that documents my past self, Aaron, confessing his love to Benjamin. Elijah’s eyes skim the page, and they progressively widen with each word.
And when he catches sight of the last sentence, I can see his worst fears confirmed.
It felt the same. Being inside of Elijah felt exactly the same.
“Listen to me,” I start, my own voice shaky as my palms raise in defense.
I can feel his panic rising from here, and I’m not quite sure how to handle this—how to handle him. I never got around to figuring out how to explain things.
“Don’t,” Elijah interrupts. “Don’t say anything. I’m leaving.”
He drops the paper, and I watch as it floats toward the floor. The urge to snap forward and grab it before it falls is overwhelming, but I stay still. Elijah pushes past me, heading toward the front door.
“Eli, wait! You don’t understand,” I plead, running after him. “I’ve been dreaming of you my entire life. I-I’ve been documenting my dreams since we’ve met, trying to find the connection.”
Elijah lets loose a cruel, sharp laugh that cuts right through me. When I grab his bicep again, he tears himself free, turning to give me a chilling glare. His soft cheeks are flushed and damp, his eyes welling with more tears as he stares back at me.
“And that’s why you’ve been following me around, taking photos of me? All this time, I thought you were too busy to see me, you were lurking in the shadows?” he questions.
I groan in frustration, gripping my hair.
I need to ground myself; I need to figure out how to fix these before he walks out the door and I lose him forever. I fear that if he leaves now, there will be no rectifying this.
“After I took that photo of you on the night you came over, I realized how much I loved it. And it’s more special when it’s authentic. That’s the only reason I did it. It didn’t feel wrong to me, Eli. Not when you’re already mine.”
“Yours?” he snarls. “You don’t own me just because you’ve placed me in your sick fantasies, Rowan.”
“That’s not what this is!” I demand, taking a step toward him as I fight off the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment.
Elijah takes a large step back, now even closer to the exit.
“We were in love. Before this life, the two of us were in love, and somehow, I lost you. My entire life, I’ve been searching for you. ”
“You’re fucking crazy,” he says, and it sounds as if he cannot believe the situation we’re in. That he’s startled and scared and absolutely dumbstruck. “Bennett was right. I have no clue who you are.”
“Don’t listen to that asshole, Eli. He’s just jealous of what we have.”
“We have nothing!” Elijah screams, tears falling rapidly now. “We have nothing because you are a stalker, and I am a victim. And I… I…” He takes a deep breath, covering his mouth with his hand. “I let you mark me.”
“Angel, please,” I beg, moving toward him once again.
“Please just hear me out. Let me explain this, let me fix it. Do you remember? Do you remember how it felt to be with me? How you cried and crumbled in my hands? It’s because you used to love me, and your soul remembers that. Does that not count for anything?”
Elijah is shaking his head frantically, his wide hazel eyes panicked and unsteady. “I cried because it felt good, because you always know what to say and how to touch me. Not because—”
“And how would I know? Huh?” I interrupt, having closed in enough that he’s only a step away from the door. “How would I have known exactly what you needed, exactly how to please you if not for loving you so desperately before now?”
Elijah stares at the floor. His hands shake at his sides as he lets the words sink in. And his body seems to be surrendering, de-tensing with every second that passes.
Just when I think he might choose to sit down and hear me out fully, that something in him recognizes the feel of my soul and can understand the ludicrous things leaving my mouth, he turns that saddened gaze onto mine and shakes his head.
“I’m leaving now," he says. "If you follow me, or if I see your face again, I’ll call the police.”
“Eli—”
“I mean it, Rowan. I will call them, and you will go to jail. Leave. Me. Alone.” Elijah turns and swings open the front door, sprinting to his car and peeling out of the driveway so quickly that I doubt he even buckled his seatbelt.
I stand in the doorway and watch him retreat.
For a moment, I feel nothing. Between the pounding in my head and the dirt flying from beneath his tires, I can barely even register what has just happened.