Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
After three rounds of chemo, I’ve officially recognised that days three and four post-infusion are the absolute bloody worst.
I’m exhausted, and despite the low-acidity meals Elijah has been making me all week, I’m still nauseated, though admittedly much less than I was after the first two treatments.
The most recent rugby matches should be uploaded to my favourite streaming platform, and I plan to spend the rest of my evening bingeing them.
“Girls, say hi to Adhira,” Elijah singsongs, exiting his room with his phone in hand. He pans the front-facing camera towards me so I can see Ellie and Lyla on the screen, their hair a mess and their mouths blue from a lolly. My heart warms at the sight.
“Hi, Adhira!” they shriek into the speaker, and laughter bubbles in my chest.
“Hey, ladies, how was your football practice this week?” I ask, still feeling rather pleased with myself that I convinced them to give it a shot over ballet lessons.
His mum tried to convince us both—before letting the girls on the line—that sports were too expensive, but Elijah assured her that she didn’t need to worry about finances.
So instead, he worries about them like the parentified son I now know him to be.
He sends money home and makes sure those girls want for nothing. It’s admirable. It’s precious.
Nope, just admirable, Adhira. Settle down.
“It’s ahh-mazing! Mum made us matching bows for our uniforms, and that mean girl from school is on my team!” Lyla shouts into the phone, her bright voice incapable of reaching a lower decibel.
I tilt my head in confusion. “And that’s a good thing?”
“Yeah! I get to kick the ball in her face!” she explains, and I suck my lips into my mouth to contain my laughter.
Ah, a girl after my own heart. Those were my same sentiments towards Letty whenever she tried to pry answers out of me about literally anything.
Thank God I don’t live with her anymore. I’d be fucked.
“Oh!” I finally manage. “That’s…wonderful?” I shouldn’t condone violence, and I haven’t the slightest clue what the other girl had done to earn Lyla’s wrath, but if Elijah’s sister says she’s mean, I trust her judgment. After all, she has the kindest brother to base her opinions on.
I glance at Elijah, unsure whether I’m messing this up or not. He mouths, “I’ll explain later,” with a big smile and tosses me a thumbs up.
“Sissy’s gonna punt her!” Ellie shouts, and you know what? Damn right she is!
“Yeah!” I say, fist-pumping the air in agreement. Elijah’s shoulders shake, his smile so wide it’s practically blinding. The sun rarely makes an appearance in Embershire, and I want so badly to step into his rays.
“Alright, you little hellions. Get to bed, and I’ll read you a story before I have to go,” he tells them.
“Little what?” Lyla asks, which Ellie follows with, “What’s a hell-ee-un?”
Elijah shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just get in bed, and I’ll call you back in a minute.”
They shout goodnight to me, and he hangs up the phone.
“Oh fuck, that’s nice,” Elijah groans as he flops down onto the sofa beside me, stretching his long, lean limbs.
He’s wearing one of the ridiculous crop tops Nakoa gifted him, this one white and sleeveless, with the words “Thigh Daddy” written across his chest and a rugby ball balanced on its side beside them.
“It’s sweet that you read them a bedtime story every night,” I tell him, flipping through channels until I find the one I’m looking for.
I’d never admit this, but I sat here like a creep, listening through the ungodly thin walls of this flat as he read them a story about a rugby-playing fairy.
I’m nearly certain he made it all up and missed his calling as a children’s book author.
Not that you can’t start writing or take on a second career at any age.
Plenty of people do it every day, and I’m sure Elijah would be brilliant.
“It’s one of my favourite things. That must sound absurd, but when our father left, there were about a million things hitting us all at once, and Ellie was only one at the time.
She wouldn’t stop crying, and the only thing that seemed to soothe her was when I’d read to them.
” He sighs. “I spent hours every night reading for so long that I ran out of books and had to make up stories of my own. It became a way for me to connect with them while also acting as a creative outlet and simultaneously helping Ellie settle down.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. This is one of those moments I have difficulty connecting to, and while I can understand the sentiment the way he’s explained it, I don’t necessarily think it requires a response.
He saves me from my overthinking, giving me a shy smile and snatching the remote from me. “So, what are we watching tonight?” he asks, a moment before the doorbell rings and my whole night smashes to hell.