Chapter 28 Acceptance
Acceptance.
The Houston heat hit me the second I stepped out of the rental.
Even the air smelled familiar—like the inside of a car left out in the sun too long.
After five hours on the road, fueled by all the gator bites Rio had packed and the entire Megan Thee Stallion discography—courtesy of El, who rapped every word like his life depended on it, I was tired.
El didn’t seem to notice my sudden quiet.
He was too busy trying to wrestle his suitcase out of the rental’s trunk.
“You good?” he asked after we got out, brow furrowed as he tugged the handle upright.
I nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Just hot as hell.”
El didn’t buy it, but he didn’t push. Instead, he bumped his shoulder into mine as we walked up the stone path to Daddy’s front door. “Think we’ll run into Meg out here?”
“If we’re lucky,” I muttered, unlocking the door. He played “Bigger in Texas” so much I was surprised she wasn’t conjured up.
The door creaked open like it always did. That same pine-and-mothball scent hit me square in the chest and nearly buckled my knees. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and stepped inside.
The house hadn’t changed much. Daddy’s recliner still sat in the corner of the living room like he’d just gotten up to grab a drink. His reading glasses were still on the side table. I reached out and grazed them with my fingertips.
“Seriously, Ellie. You okay?” El asked again, softer this time.
“Yeah,” I said. “Just weird being back.”
He nodded and let it drop again.
We dropped our bags in the guest room—my old room, technically, though it barely looked like mine anymore. The posters were gone, the bedspread neutral now instead of that faded floral one I used to hide under. El took it all in, dropping his duffel at the foot of the bed.
He wandered toward the window, peeking out. “View’s not bad.”
I nodded, joining him. “You could see the whole backyard. That’s the peach tree Daddy planted the year Ryan was born, and that’s the famous orange tree.”
I could feel his eyes on me. “You wanna give me the tour?”
“Come on.”
We moved through the house slowly, like we were sneaking through something sacred.
I showed him the den where Daddy used to fall asleep with the TV blaring, the kitchen where he and I once got into a screaming match over who stole the last piece of pie.
El teased me about how my childhood was “shockingly calm for someone so chaotic.”
The mood shifted as we reached the top of the stairs. My footsteps slowed, and I stopped just outside a familiar door—Daddy’s room. My hand hovered near the knob like it might burn me.
El noticed the change immediately. He went still beside me, his voice low. “You okay?”
“I haven’t been in there since he died,” I said quietly. “Not once. I don't even think I can visit his grave.”
He didn’t say anything at first, just waited. His presence wasn’t pushy. He didn’t try to convince me or coddle me. He just stood there as I reached for the knob and pushed the door open.
The scent hit me first. Cedarwood, aftershave, and that clean, cottony smell. My breath caught in my throat.
The room was still like he’d just stepped out and would be back any second. His slipper's were still by the bed for Christ’s sake. I stepped inside, the hardwood creaking softly underfoot.
“You want a second?” El asked from behind me.
“Yeah.”
He gave me a quick squeeze on the shoulder and disappeared down the hall to wander on his own.
I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, letting myself breathe.
“You wouldn’t believe what’s happening,” I whispered. “Ryan’s marrying Jonathan.”
Saying it out loud made it feel even more surreal.
My fingers curled around the hem of the bedspread, the one he’d always grumbled about being too damn scratchy but refused to replace. I buried my face in it.
“Then, the crazy fool wanted me to stand in the wedding! She’s lucky I’m even coming.”
I closed my eyes, “These people are tryna kill me.”
Inhale. Exhale.
“What are we gonna do with them, Daddy?”
Let people be people, Elliot.
I jerked, eyes flying open. The words were so clear, I swore they’d been spoken out loud. I swore I could feel the warmth of him beside me. I scanned the room and found it empty. I let out a breath, sharp and trembling, but the tears didn’t come. I thought I might, but I didn’t.
I just sat still until a soft knock pulled me out of my haze.
“Can I come in?” El’s voice drifted through the door.
“Yeah. Come in.”
He entered slowly, holding a mug of tea. “Thought you might want this.”
“It’s probably expired, but thanks.” I took one and cradled it between my palms.
He sat beside me on the bed, close but not too close. “Tea doesn’t expire, E.”
“Lord, Daddy, someone else is trying to kill me.”
El smiled, then nudged me. “How you holding up?”
“I’m trying.” I glanced around the room again. “It’s just weird being back here.”
“I know.”
“I’m in my dead father’s house because my sister’s marrying my ex. Tyler Perry would love this bullshit.”
El raised a brow. “You sure you’re okay being here for this?”
“Honestly?” I stared into my tea. “I’m tired of this hanging over my head. It’s out of my hands. This is the life she chose, even if he’s a horrible man. He always knew how to spin a good story. Guess she bought it.”
He was quiet for a moment, watching me as I choked down that expired tea. Finally he spoke,
“Let’s go outside, I wanna see the tree up close.”
The late afternoon sun dipped low behind the trees, casting long shadows across the field. Ditching my shoes on the steps, I walked ahead. The ground was warm beneath my feet as we crossed the yard I hadn’t stepped foot in since the funeral.
El followed behind me, just a step slower. He rubbed his shoulder thoughtfully, and I knew his body was moving slower than his mind wanted it to. I could tell by the way his breaths came a little heavier, his hand occasionally brushing over the side where his pod was placed beneath his shirt.
Still, he followed me—no hesitation.
“If you need a break, El—”
“No,” he cut me off sharply but covered it with a faint smile. “Let’s keep going, I wanna see it.”
His stubbornness scared me sometimes, but I’ve learnt to work with it. The quicker I showed him the tree, the quicker he’d let me usher him inside.
“This is the tree,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at him. El looked up at it.
“It’s huge,” he said as he took it in closely.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “It grew faster than I did.”
I didn’t wait for permission, I just gripped a low-hanging branch and hoisted myself up like I used to.
“Careful,” El called up. “You ain’t a kid anymore.”
“Rude,” I muttered.
“I prefer the term ‘realistic',” he said, standing at the base of the tree, hands on his hips like he was assessing whether to join me. He didn’t.
I found a good spot and reached for a few oranges, tugging them free with satisfying pops. I tossed them down one by one, aiming for the patch of grass near his feet.
He caught one. Missed the second. And let the third bounce off his thigh with a grunt.
“Reflexes, old man.”
“This is a hate crime,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile there.
When I dropped back down and dusted my hands off on my shorts, the air between us shifted. The smile he had moments ago faded, replaced with doubt. He hadn’t said anything, but I could feel him thinking.
As we walked back toward the house, the silence started to stretch too long.
“El?” I prompted, brushing my arm against his.
He didn’t look at me right away, he just kept walking. I turned to face him, the oranges starting to warm in my hands.
“Peanut,” he said finally. “I wanna make sure you completely understand what you’re getting yourself into with me.”
I blinked. “I understand, Puddin’.”
“No. I mean… really understand.” His gaze finally met mine.
“I’m older. I can be stubborn. You know that.
My illness limits me. It always will. And as I get older, it’s gonna limit me more.
I won’t always be as energetic or productive as you’re used to.
I can’t promise I’ll be strong every day.
And you… you’re young. You still have a whole life ahead of you. ”
I opened my mouth, but he cut me off.
“You say you’re okay with everything now, and maybe that’s true. But what happens if one day you wake up and want kids? Or something—something I just can’t give you? Ever. You sure that’s something you want?”
I stopped walking, and he followed suit. Everything was still except for the wind in the tree branches behind us.
“Why are you saying this?” I asked, my voice thinner than I wanted it to be. “I knew what I was getting into.”
“Yeah, but did you?” he asked, more gently now. “I don’t want you to look back one day and realize I held you back from something better.”
“You’re not holding me back.”
“El—”
“Elliot,” I snapped, stepping closer. “Stop. I’ve made my decision. You don’t get to talk me out of it.”
He exhaled hard through his nose. “I just want you to understand the gravity of it. You are everything to me. But I may not be what’s best for you.
I wish I could be selfish, Ellie. I wish I could just let myself have this.
But I care about you too fucking much to not give you a chance at something easier. ”
I didn’t let him finish.
“Well. You should’ve thought about that before you made me fall in love with you.”
His expression cracked, just slightly. His throat bobbed, and he looked at me like he’d heard the words but wasn’t sure he believed them.
“You love me?” he asked.
“Of course, I fucking love you, El. I love us. I love our life. I love waking up in your arms and falling asleep on your chest. I love the way you always reach for me, even when you’re tired or hurting.
I love that you make me feel like I matter.
And I will continue to love you, no matter the cost.”
He swallowed hard, and his eyes softened as he stepped forward.
“I love you,” I said again, quieter now. “And I want to close this chapter of my life so we can move forward. Okay?”
The breeze rustled the leaves above us. The neighbor’s street lights flicked on behind El, casting his shadow across the grass. And for a long moment, neither of us moved.
He looked at me like I was everything he ever wanted and nothing he felt he deserved.
But he reached for my hand anyway.
“Let’s go inside. I want you to rest, it’s been a long day.” I pushed.
He just nodded, and I squeezed his hand gently, pulling him towards the house.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “You gonna survive tomorrow?”
I smirked. “I’ll try not to start a fight.”
“No promises?”
“None.”
He squeezed my hand in response. “I love you too, you know.”
“I know, Elliot.”
?
El had finally fallen asleep upstairs, curled on his side with one arm tucked under his head, the other reaching out for where I’d been lying moments before.
I watched him for a long time before I slipped away.
The stairs creaked under my bare feet as I made my way down. I didn’t bother turning on the kitchen lights when I entered. The moonlight spilling in through the windows was enough.
I stood in front of the pantry for a long time, staring at the closed door.
Then I opened it.
It was still there. Tucked behind a box of stale cereal and a half-empty bag of flour was Daddy’s bottle of cognac.
I unscrewed the cap with steady fingers, even though my stomach was already tight with guilt.
I told myself I just wanted the taste. Just enough to take the edge off. Just a sip to remember him by.
But the burn in my throat was too familiar.
And it didn’t stop at one sip.
I sank onto the floor, my back against the cold cabinet door, the bottle cradled in my lap. I didn’t hear El come down until his shadow stretched across the floor.
“So,” he said, his voice low, but not unfeeling. “We’re trying consulting?”
I flinched and blinked up at him.
He walked over slowly, crouched beside me, and took the bottle from my hands without force. He didn’t scold me. Didn’t raise his voice. He just stared at the amber liquid before unscrewing the cap and pouring what was left into the sink.
I looked away.
“El—”
“No,” he said softly. “Not tonight.”
The bottle clinked empty against the steel sink. The silence between us stretched thin until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I wasn’t gonna finish it,” I whispered.
He turned to face me, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed. “That’s not the problem, E. You weren’t supposed to have it. Period.”
His words stung more than I expected. He knelt again and reached out, brushing a thumb across my cheek. “You shouldn’t be coping like this.”
I nodded, hating the tears building in my eyes.
“I don’t know what else to do,” I confessed.
He tilted my chin up gently. “We’ll figure it out. Just, please come back to bed.”
I closed my eyes in defeat. "Okay."