Chapter 14 Stay #2
His posture snapped upright. “Shit—did those fuckers still put nuts in the food? I told them repeatedly not to! Fuck, Ellie, I’m so sorry. Where’s the Epi?”
I waved my hands, coughing as I tried to catch my breath. “No, no—I’m fine. No nuts.”
Elliot’s shoulders slumped. “Thank God. I thought—” He exhaled harshly.
“I’m okay. I promise,” I assured him, steadying my breathing. “Besides, you got me like, a million EpiPens, remember? No need to get worked up.”
He nodded, but I could see the tension still tight in his jaw. “I know, but fuck, Ellie. You gotta understand, you stopped breathing in my arms. I was carrying you for half a block, thinking you were dead.”
Wow. That made me think back to the night Daddy died. How I rode in the back of the ambulance, wondering if he would make it. A cold dread crawled up my spine, like a ghost of a memory I’d tried to bury. I knew that feeling.
The panic. The helplessness. The desperation of trying to hold onto someone who might slip away.
I knew that dreadful feeling of not knowing what could happen to someone on your watch.
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I know that must have been hard.”
“Don’t apologize,” Elliot said firmly, shaking his head. “You didn’t ask for that. I just want to prevent anything like that from happening again.”
I stared at him. And for the first time all night, I didn’t know what to say.
He grinned in return. “Sorry if I brought the mood down a little. I guess I’m still shaken up.”
I remained quiet. He leaned in closer to me, trying to get a sign from me that he had not completely ruined the evening.
“Thank you for the face mask,” he continued. “Let’s just watch the movie, okay?”
Finally, I nodded. Satisfied with proof of life, he exhaled heavily and crashed into the couch, hitting play on the remote.
?
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I was warm.
My head was on Elliot’s chest, his steady breaths rising and falling beneath me. One of his arms was draped over my waist, the other tucked beneath his head. I blinked slowly, my brain still foggy from sleep.
And then—
“Well.” The lights flipped on.
I jerked up a little, my eyes landing on Esther standing by the couch, arms crossed, grinning like she just caught me doing something scandalous.
“‘Me night,’ huh, Ellie?” she teased.
I shot her a glare, my face heating. “Shut up, Esther.”
She laughed, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Oop! No need to get hostile, I’m just heading to bed.”
With one last look between El and me, she laughed again then disappeared up the stairs. She called over her shoulder: “You two enjoy your night.”
I will be hearing about this tomorrow.
El groaned beneath me, stretching. Realizing I was still lying on his chest, I sat quickly to give him breathing room.
“I should get going too.” He said, rubbing his eyes free of sleep. The mask I applied earlier had dried up completely.
I glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. 2:04 a.m.
“But it’s so late.”
“I know.” He smirked. “But at least I don’t have to be up early like you. I get to sleep in.”
His teasing tone did not land with me.
“You shouldn’t be driving,” I stated flatly.
“I’ll be okay, Peanut,” he reassured calmly before standing and grabbing his fallen durag from the armrest. “Walk me out?”
My chest tightened as he headed for the door. My gut twisted with unease, and words left my mouth before I could second-guess them. “You want to stay here tonight?”
He paused mid-step. “What?”
I asked myself the same question.
Where did this boldness come from? The hand-holding? The wine? The comfort of my head on his chest? Whatever it was, it screamed for him to stay. It beckoned me to his side. I wanted him to stay—No. I needed him to.
I swallowed, nerves creeping in. “It could be like a sleepover. We can share my bed if you promise to behave.”
Elliot chuckled, shaking his head. “As tempting as that sounds, Elliot. That’s really unnecessary. I’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll call you when I get in.”
“I don’t want you to go, Elliot. I don’t want you to drive,” I said in an authoritative tone that made him straighten up.
He faced me fully then, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watched me carefully.
“Why not?”
I took a deep breath. “Because. My daddy fell asleep at the wheel once after working late. He got into an accident that messed up his back, made him retire from the warehouse he worked at, and got him on disability where he ate and drank himself into the health conditions that led to his death.”
Silence.
“Wow,” he eventually said in a quiet tone after my extreme trauma dump.
“Exactly. I don’t want that for you. So please, stay the night. I’ll worry if you leave.”
Our eyes locked, and I gave my best pouted expression. Elliot exhaled, running a hand over his jaw. Then, finally—
“Okay.”
Relief flooded through me. “Thank you.”
After I led him upstairs to my room, I nodded towards my bathroom door.
“Go wash the mask off,” I commanded.
Again, without another word, he did what I said. No arguments.
Disappointed yet again, I removed my robe, leaving me in my black nightgown. Then, I laid on my stomach, hugging a pillow, and considered what I was doing. A one-night stand was out of the question; that much I was sure of.
But what was I looking for?
Of course, I was worried about him driving so late, but that wasn’t the only reason I invited him to stay.
In retrospect, I could have just made him a cup of coffee like that night after the club and sent him on his merry way.
Yet, for reasons I was still figuring out, I wanted him in my bed tonight.
My hand flexed again like it did when I came for the face mask, the tension of his grasp haunting me like a cursed mark.
The moment El stepped into my room, he glanced around and raised a brow. “Kinda plain for a hairstylist. I thought this place would be packed with hair products and stuff.”
“I try not to bring work home,” I explained with a shrug.
Elliot snorted at my answer, looking at the photo I kept of Daddy on my dresser. “You’d hate my place.”
Just as I sat up to respond, he pulled his shirt over his head, and my mouth went dry.
“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” I exclaimed.
He grinned, clearly amused by my reaction. “I sleep in my briefs. Is that a problem?”
My gaze flickered just for a moment over his chest.
His chest. His arms. They both looked so yummy.
God, I wished he’d hold me and—Elliot! Get a hold of yourself! You’re drooling!
Cringing at the vile thoughts, I cleared my throat and regained my composure. “No. I guess not.”
Without another word, I laid back down, turning my back to him. My alarm clock suddenly became the most interesting thing in the room.
The mattress dipped gently as he climbed in beside me.
“Just so you know, sometimes my Dexcom alert goes off during the night,” he murmured through a yawn.
I froze. “Is it something I should listen out for?”
“No, nothing to worry about,” he reassured quickly. “If it happens, I’ll handle it. Just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
He shifted, settling into the space beside me—close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, but careful not to let his body touch mine.
“I don’t mind helping you if you need it,” I reassured.
“I don’t want to be a burden, Ellie.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder, eyebrows raised. “You carried me two blocks on feet, and you think you’ll ever be a burden in my life? I owe you if anything.”
A smile tugged at his mouth, small but genuine. “I just don’t want you worrying about me.”
We held each other’s gaze for what felt like an eternity. It was heavy. Tender. I could read all the emotions he usually had tucked away. He usually kept his guard up masterfully, but for this, he was vulnerable.
I finally turned away again, facing my alarm clock once more.
“Wake me up if something happens,” I commanded.
He sighed, an exhausted sound that knew I’d be upset if he didn’t comply.
“Okay.”
A moment of quiet passed before he spoke again, his voice now softer.
“I’m sorry about your dad, by the way,” he murmured.
I stared at the glowing red numbers. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for dumping all that on you like that.”
“You didn’t dump anything, Ellie. You explained why you felt how you felt and why you wanted me to stay. Nothing wrong with that,” he said in a comforting voice.
Well, I explained half of the reason. The other half is still a mystery to me.
“Still, I’m glad you decided to stay. It makes me feel better.” I whispered.
Elliot shifted closer, his voice softer but still playful as he attempted to lighten the atmosphere. “Well, I do love to make you feel better.”
My stomach flipped, and I squirmed. Too much, too much, too much!
“You okay?” he asked. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can sleep on the couch.”
“No, I’m good.” I lied as my cheeks heated. I was far from “good”, but the thought of him so far away was…disappointing.
“Okay. Well… goodnight, Ellie,” he said in that sultry tone.
“Goodnight, Elliot.”
More silence followed, and I should have just closed my eyes and waited for morning to come. However, the previous feeling of his hand on mine burned my skin, and I couldn’t help myself—
“El?”
“Yeah?”
“…Can I lay with you?” My voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re kind of… comforting.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Come here.”
I turned, tucking myself into his side. His warmth surrounded me instantly, and my body relaxed before my mind could fight it.
“You tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it,” I mumbled.
Elliot chuckled, low and deep. “My lips are sealed.”
He shifted slightly beneath me, getting comfortable. “Can I hold you, Peanut?”
I nodded. “Please.”
He pulled me closer and draped his strong arm around my lower back, but this time, it didn’t feel so wrong.
“You smell so good, Elliot,” he murmured.
I smiled sleepily, my eyes growing so heavy I struggled to keep them open. “You do, too. And you’re warm.”
“You’re making me blush.”
A soft laugh escaped me. This was dangerous. It felt too good, too safe, and too fucking easy.
“This feels nice, but it’s so wrong,” I muttered. “I should—”
“Shhh.” He tightened his hold. “Get some sleep.”
I didn’t argue further. “Okay, Sugar.”
His soft chuckles were the last thing I heard before I drifted off.
A small nudge stirred me awake.
I blinked against the dim light, turning my head to find El standing beside the bed, already dressed in his loose shirt and grey sweats.
“Mind if I raid your fridge?”
I rubbed my eyes and stretched out a little. “Of course not. Come on.”
He followed me down to the kitchen. I switched on a light above the stove, casting a soft amber glow over the space.
“It’s just…” he said as he scratched the back of his neck. “It’s a bit of a drive back to my place, and I didn’t wanna risk it being low.”
“I get it,” I said, cutting him off gently and opening the fridge door for him. “No need to explain.”
He scanned the shelves for a few seconds, then pulled out a jar of grape jam.
“Want me to make some toast?” I offered, already reaching for the bread.
“Nah,” he said with a half-smile. “I’ll eat it like this. Thanks.”
There was something different in his expression. He looked almost… ashamed? Like he was expecting me to react to his actions with disgust. But I just walked over, opened the drawer, and handed him a spoon.
“Thank you,” he said, quieter now.
I watched him as he took a spoonful of jam, paused, then reluctantly shoved it into his mouth with a slight cringe.
I watched him quietly. I didn’t know much about diabetes—only what he’d told me or I picked up in passing—but maybe it was time I learned. If he was going to keep showing up in my life like this, I needed to be ready.
“I could save the jar for you,” I offered, nudging the fridge door shut with my hip. “You know, in case you need it when you visit again.”
That earned me a smirk. “You’re gonna let me visit again?”
I shrugged, lips twitching. “I don’t mind the company.”
And I’ve grown to appreciate the warmth you’ve provided my bed.
He chuckled, but the smile didn’t last. It faltered as he scooped another spoonful of jam and forced it into his mouth, his expression twisting with a full-on cringe.
I could see the fight in his eyes—not with me, but with his body.
Like he was tired of having to justify what it needed just to keep functioning.
“Feel a little better?” I asked.
He didn’t respond right away, just closed his eyes and let the sugar settle into his system. Then he leaned back against the counter, the spoon still in his hand.
“You know…” he said, voice low, almost like he was thinking out loud. “I don’t even fucking like sugar. I hate sweet things. Always have. Even before I got diagnosed, I tried to avoid it. And now I have to eat it just to stay conscious.”
I didn’t know what to say at first. His tone wasn’t bitter. It was something softer—tired, maybe.
“I like salty stuff, though,” he went on. “Especially if it’s crunchy. But because of this fucking illness, I still gotta limit my sodium.” he paused, shaking his head. “I don’t even get to enjoy the little things anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
“You don’t have to be.”
“I know. And I’m not trying to pity you or make you feel like there’s anything wrong with you because there isn’t.” I reached out and gently rubbed his arm. “I’m just… sorry that you can’t enjoy what you want to the fullest extent. You deserve that.”
He looked down at me. God, was he handsome, especially in this lighting as the morning peeked through the kitchen curtains. His strange eyes gleamed as the corners of them wrinkled when he gave me a crooked smile.
“There are a few sweet things I can still enjoy,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes and shoved his chest lightly. “Such a flirt.”
His laughter was soft, and then he glanced at the clock on the stove. His smile faltered a bit.
“I should get going.”
I followed his gaze—7:04 a.m.
“Yeah, I should start getting ready myself.”
He nodded slowly, then looked back at me. Something unspoken passed between us—words I couldn’t quite say, things he wasn’t sure he should voice. This was all so new to both of us.
“Thank you, Ellie. For last night. For letting me crash here. For this.” He held up the jar. “For everything.”
“Of course.”
He lingered for another moment, eyes still on mine.
“Walk me out?”
I nodded and followed him to the door. He stopped just before stepping outside and turned toward me one last time.
“I’ll call you later today. If that’s okay.”
“I might be busy,” I said in a teasing tone, but I was being honest. Not that he cared anyway.
He gave me a lazy smirk. “I’ll call anyway.”