Chapter 30 #2
Elliot’s grip tightened on my hand. He wasn’t panicking—just bracing. The truth was, so was I.
There was so much we had to share with her. So much he’d survived. I didn’t doubt for a second that Natalie already knew it all. But she’d always loved indulgently, generously. She was the kind of woman who would listen anyway, just to see her son smile when he told her.
We walked the path together, slowly, past rows of names and dates. Quiet grief that didn’t belong to us. Elliot’s shoulders were tense beneath my hoodie, the fabric bunching slightly where his fingers twisted the cuffs.
When we reached her grave, he stopped.
Natalie’s headstone was simple—smooth pale granite, her name etched clean and elegant, the dates too close together to ever feel fair. Someone had left a small ceramic angel at the base. A faded ribbon tangled around a metal stake that once held a balloon.
The wildflowers in Elliot’s hand trembled.
He kneeled carefully, placing them at the foot of the stone. The colors looked wrong and perfect all at once against the muted gray—the yellows too bright, the purples too alive, the white petals catching the sun like they were trying to glow.
“They suit you better than roses,” I murmured quietly. “You always hated anything that tried too hard.”
I stayed standing while he lingered there, fingertips brushing the petals like he was memorizing them.
After a few deep breaths, I crouched and rested my hand against the cool stone. Elliot stepped back allowing me a moment of privacy while I reconnected with the only true friend I’d ever had before Thomas.
I told her about Elliot. About the man her son was becoming. About how I’d nearly ruined everything by confusing guilt with love and fear with morality. About how I’d thought I was doing the right thing when I was really just running.
“I’m not running anymore,” I said softly. “I love him. Thank you, Natalie.”
The wind moved through the grass. It felt like her caress as it brushed my cheek. I stood and stepped back, giving Elliot the space. He moved forward on shaky legs. His fingers touched her name like it might disappear.
“Hi Mom. I miss you so much.” A tear trailed down his cheek. “I can’t believe it's been a year already. It still feels like it was just yesterday that you… That y-you… Anyway I’m alive,” he whispered. “I’m trying. I’m writing again. I fell in love.”
His voice cracked. Gave up crouching to sit cross legged on the ground, twisting a blade of grass between his fingers.
“I don’t wake up hollow anymore.”
I didn’t interrupt. Didn’t move away in case he needed me. Just watched over him while he spoke to his mom. From the way he speaks to her it was clear their relationship was filled with love and understanding. I’m sorry he only got a few years with her.
“I’m not going to die just because you did,” he said quietly. “I promise.”
His shoulders shook. I stepped closer and rested my hand against the back of his neck and squeezed. His pain echoed through me as if it were my own. Elliot leaned into me without looking.
For a moment, it felt like all three of us were there together. It was the most perfect thing.
The breeze shifted and eventually I pulled my hand away gently and took a few steps back. I lit a cigarette not because I wanted it. But because my hands needed something to do.
That’s when I saw him. David. At the far end of the path. Heading in our direction too quickly for my liking. My stomach dropped when I caught the expression on his face. Lip curled back in a snarl.
I exhaled the smoke slowly and stepped just enough into his line of sight that Elliot stayed shielded. He didn’t need to deal with this shit when he was already so delicate today. I refused to bring more grief to his door if it could be avoided.
David’s jaw tightened when he noticed me. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.
I didn’t answer.
“You bring him here now?” he said, louder. “Parading your little fantasy relationship in front of her grave?”
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Elliot freeze. His fingers curled into my hoodie. But he squared his shoulders and kept talking to Natalie.
I stepped half in front of him without thinking. “This isn’t your moment,” I said evenly.
David snorted. “Everything about this is wrong. You always were.”
I felt Elliot’s gaze on my back. His silent approval soaked into me as he trusted me to take care of the situation.
“Leave,” I said.
David’s mouth twisted. The tip of his tongue dragged over his teeth like he was debating what to say next.
“You don’t deserve her son,” I continued.
I didn’t move. Neither did David. The smoke from my cigarette curled between us. For a second, I thought he might actually swing at me.
Instead he spat at my boots and turned away. I crushed my cigarette into the dirt. And was by Elliot in the blink of an eye. My arms wrapped around him the second he exhaled.
“You okay?” I murmured.
He nodded. “You stayed,” he whispered.
“I always will.”
We stood there a moment longer. Then he kissed his fingers and touched the headstone once more. “I love you, Mom. We’ll see you soon.”
We walked back toward the truck slowly; the sunlight picking out the golden strands in his hair like it was trying to crown him. His head rested against my side, his arm tucked around my waist, keeping us locked together like he needed the proof of contact to stay grounded in the moment.
I didn’t mind at all. I needed it too. When we reached the edge of the cemetery hill, Elliot slowed. He looked toward the cliffs where the land fell away into endless blue.
The cliffs behind the house he grew up in were the place where grief had once almost swallowed him whole.
“Can we go there?” he asked softly.
I squeezed his hand. “Yeah,” I said. “We can go there.”
We drove the familiar winding road in silence. Not the brittle, anxious quiet we used to live inside. The soft, understanding kind. The kind that felt earned, where you knew each other's darkest secrets and stayed.
Instead of parking at the house in case David had gone back there, I carried on straight past it. The paint on the siding was fresh now. The porch that used to sag a little was perfectly level. Someone had even replaced the mailbox.
An errant thought tickled the back of my mind, but I ignored it for now. There were far more important things that needed my attention. I took the track down to the pull-off and parked up.
We walked the narrow path through waist-high grass, the wind carrying the salt of the ocean and the sweetness of wildflowers like the ones Elliot had picked earlier.
When we reached the edge, he stepped forward without hesitation. I expected my chest to ache as memories of that night assaulted me, but they were nothing more than quiet background noise.
Elliot wasn’t standing there like he was waiting to be pushed. He stood with his shoulders open, his weight evenly balanced, his gaze steady as he watched the horizon like it was something that belonged to him now. Like it was a beginning.
I came up beside him and let my shoulder brush his. “You made it,” I said quietly.
He smiled, real and devastating as he shook his head. “No. We did.”
The ocean stretched out below us, calm and endless. Unafraid of what was to come. The same ocean that had once been a mirror of his grief now held only light.
“This time,” I said, my voice rough with something like reverence, “I’m not watching you fall.” I turned my head and met his eyes. “I’m watching you rise.”
His breath hitched. Not in pain, but recognition. He reached for my hand and laced our fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I don’t feel like I’m surviving anymore,” he said. “I feel like I’m… choosing.”
My chest tightened. “Me too.”
We stood there a long time; the wind tugging at our clothes, the sun warming our backs. The sound of the waves threading something ancient and steady through the space between us.
After a while, he said, almost shyly, “Dad’s selling the house.”
I nodded. “I assumed as much.”
He swallowed then looked out at the water again. “I don’t want to live there,” he said. “But I don’t want to keep living in a temporary place either.”
I turned fully toward him. “You don’t have to be.” Silence stretched between us, filled with buzzing anticipation. “Come live with me,” I said. “We’ll get our own place. Somewhere that's just ours.”
His eyes widened just a fraction. Not with fear. Hope. “You’re sure?” he whispered.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” My hands trembled when I cupped his face. “I’m not going to ruin this,” I said. “I’m not going to run when it gets hard..”
He leaned his forehead into mine. “I’m not running anymore either.”
We kissed there on the edge of the cliffs behind his childhood home. It was fragile, but what we shared was certain.
The ocean breathed below us. The future stood wide open in front of us. It didn’t feel like something we were bracing to survive. It felt like something we were finally brave enough to build.
Once, I’d watched him stand at the edge of this world and fall. Now I was standing beside him, watching him choose to live.