Chapter 18 #3
It was a half-truth because I didn’t want to share the entire messy story at an already awkward dinner. El’s eyes softened. “You have a sister?”
“Yeah. Ryan.” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep going. “I guess I thought my mom would handle it better. Be neutral, you know? But… she wasn’t. She was very one-sided about the whole thing.”
He didn’t interrupt, just leaned forward slightly, giving me his full attention.
“She didn’t protect me the way I needed her to,” I explained. “She just… lets me down. Over and over.”
El’s brow furrowed just a little. Then came the question I was expecting:
“So why go see her?”
I stared at the table, tapping my nail against the edge of my plate. There wasn’t a simple answer, but I gave him the only one that felt true.
“Because she’s my mother, El.”
He looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head—not out of judgment, more like quiet disbelief. Like he couldn’t wrap his mind around still showing up for someone who’d made you feel so small.
But I didn’t explain further. I didn’t need to. He got it—even if he didn’t fully agree.
And that was enough.
Dinner wrapped up in silence.
He paid the bill without a word, and we drove back to my place with nothing but the low hum of the radio between us. The usual ease of the effortless back-and-forth we always shared had been replaced by a thick, uncomfortable quiet.
It sat between us like a third passenger.
When he finally pulled up outside my house, I reached for the door handle, but my fingers just hovered there.
I hadn’t slept at home in days.
El must’ve noticed the hesitation because before I could say anything, his voice cut through the silence gently.
“Elliot,” he said softly. The way he used my full name made my chest ache. “I understand completely why you feel weird about our friendship. It’s not… conventional. Not in the slightest. But it works for us. We’re not hurting anyone. No one’s holding a gun to your head.”
He paused for a moment. “We’re both grown. We get to choose where we lay our heads at night.”
I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. If I turned to meet his eyes, all of this would unravel, and I’d end up in his bed again. My resolve would dissolve the same way it always did with him.
He noticed. Of course, he did.
When I didn’t move, his hand came to rest gently on my knee. The warmth of it seeped through the fabric of my dress, grounding and disarming all at once.
“If this is really what you want,” he said, voice low, “I’ll respect it. But don’t do it because you feel obligated. Or guilty. You don’t owe anyone anything, Peanut.”
The way he said it made me want to stay. Just based on tone alone, I could’ve folded. It was the very embodiment of safety.
Still, I took a slow breath, swallowed the lump forming in my throat, and pushed the door open.
“Will you send a car for me tomorrow?” I asked.
El let out a slow sigh, the kind that said I don’t like this, but I’ll do it anyway.
“Yeah. It’ll be there by eight.”
I finally looked back at him, just for a second.
“Thanks, Puddin’.”
That earned the smallest smile from him—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Let me walk you up.”
We stepped out of the car, and I felt his gaze as I made my way up the driveway while he followed close behind. At my front door, I hesitated just long enough for the silence to stretch. Then, with a small breath, I turned the key and pushed it open.
“I’ll miss you tonight,” he said.
The words hit me square in the chest. My stomach fluttered, heat blooming low in my belly before it pulsed between my thighs. I paused at the threshold, fingers still curled around the doorknob.
How could a simple statement cause my body to heat up?
He must’ve noticed the shift in my breathing, the sudden stillness in my body because he kept going, voice low and coaxing.
“I don’t know how I’ll sleep without you.”
I exhaled slowly, biting back the reaction his voice stirred in me. God, he knew what he was doing.
Still, I refused to let him win.
“You’re a smart man,” I murmured, glancing at him from the side of my lashes. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
He let out a quiet laugh, amused I hadn’t fallen for the bait.
“Goodnight, Peanut.”
I looked at him one last time, soaking in the smile on his lips, the fondness in his beautiful eyes I tried so hard not to acknowledge.
“Night.”
Then I stepped inside and closed the door behind me before I could change my mind.
The house was still.
The soft green glow of the stove clock read 11:39 p.m.
It was early enough that Esther was probably still out—maybe with her football player, maybe with the girls from the salon.
Either way, she wasn’t home. A pity, really.
The one night I chose to come back, and the house still felt empty.
Maybe I could wait up for her. Hopefully, she’d let me crash in her bed.
I poured myself a glass of wine, letting the silence settle around me, but it didn’t bring the comfort I expected.
The space felt unfamiliar, like I was standing in someone else’s home.
I turned on the TV, or tried to. I couldn’t even remember where we kept the damn remote.
After a minute of aimless searching, I gave up and slumped onto the couch with a sigh, cradling my wine glass like a lifeline.
And, of course, my mind wandered to Elliot.
Tonight was the first time in months that anything between us felt awkward.
It didn’t suit us. We were easy. So easy that when Hope shot her shot, I should’ve told him.
I should’ve teased him about it until he blushed or rolled his eyes.
But I didn’t. I held it in because I was scared he might be interested.
Because I relied on him.
I relied on him to make coffee in the morning, call me rides when I was running late for work, cover dinners without flinching, and hold me at night so I could sleep. And that terrified me.
Not just the dependency—but the way I felt about it. The way I needed him. The thought of losing that terrified me, but the idea that I was terrified over losing him terrified me the most.
We were too comfortable. I was too comfortable.
But God, it felt so good. He made me feel safe. So safe.
I exhaled hard, tipping my head back against the cushions as I eyed my phone on the coffee table.
What was wrong with me?
Why was this so hard?
Just call him. Tell him what you feel. Let him tell you you’re being irrational, and then we could go back to pretending none of this happened.
I hesitated—then finally reached forward and tapped his name. The phone rang once.
Just once.
“Fifteen minutes before changing your mind?” His voice was sleepy. “A new record.”
I smiled, biting my lip as I sank further into the couch. “What makes you think I changed my mind?”
“Why else would you be calling?”
I stared at my wine, tracing the rim of the glass with my fingertip. “I don’t even know anymore.”
“Ellie…” he said gently.
“Please don’t,” I whispered. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“What am I going to say, Peanut?”
I exhaled slowly. “That I’m overthinking it. That I should stop trying to define this and just be grateful I found comfort in someone. That even if it’s messy and complicated and probably a disaster waiting to happen, it works for us. And that’s all that should matter. Did I cover everything?”
There was a long pause before he replied, “Just about. But I had one more thing to say.”
I braced myself for some smart-ass remark. “Which is?”
“Open the door.”
Huh? My heart stuttered.
“Are you—?”
“Come see.” His voice dipped, velvet-smooth and low.
My breath caught as I set the glass aside and crossed the room, half in a daze. I unlocked the door and slowly pulled it open.
Elliot stood on the porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone to his ear.
I ended the call, staring at him. “You came back?”
He tucked the phone away, lips twitching at the corners. “Came back?”
I glanced past him. His car was still parked where he’d left it earlier.
My voice dropped. “You waited?”
He shrugged like it was nothing. “Of course. I told you. I can’t sleep without you, Peanut. And I’m not about to start tonight.”
I couldn’t speak or move. So he just stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket.
“Come on,” he said gently, brushing his hand against mine as he passed. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”