Chapter 10 #2
I stare at the screen until my eyes are blurry, and the response I was hoping for never comes through.
With a sigh, I toss my phone back into the cupholder and turn the truck around.
Thankfully, when I get to Mom’s, the driveway is empty, other than her car, and the lights are on in the house.
I know she made her friends leave, telling them she was just fine, and that’s true, but I hate the thought of her being alone during any of this.
Maybe it’s because I spent so much time avoiding home.
It’s my guilt; I know that. I also know that her friends would never have left if they hadn’t been certain she was okay.
Quietly, I make my way inside and flip on the small lamp in the living room. Kicking off my shoes, I pad down the hall and stop outside my old bedroom. The same room that I stay in every single time I’ve visited her in the last seventeen years.
Silently, I turn the handle and step inside, closing the door behind me. Mindlessly, I flip on the light and blink, letting my eyes adjust. Only then do I take in the room. It’s immaculate. The bed is made, and there is not one piece of clutter in sight.
I smile because the guys were right. My mom was meddling in my life, but I’m not mad about it.
I’ll take any and every opportunity to get closer to Ellison.
Flipping off the light, I step out of the room, closing the door behind me.
I make a quick detour to the bathroom before stopping outside Mom’s door.
I don’t hear any sounds, so she must be asleep.
Padding my way back to the living room, I try to stretch out my six-foot-three frame onto her couch, pulling down the throw blanket from the back to cover me.
It’s going to be a long night—not that I expected to get much sleep, no matter where I was.
My thoughts are too jumbled as I try to decide how I want to move forward with Ellison.
First, I need her to talk to me. To really speak to me, and we can go from there.
I’m just about asleep when my phone beeps with an incoming message. I scramble off the couch, tapping at the screen, and my heart stops when I see her name.
Ellison: We made it back to Kinzie’s place. I’m staying here tonight.
It’s more than I hoped for. My hands shake as I type out a reply.
Me: I’m staying at Mom’s tonight.
Ellison: Is there something wrong with your room?
Me: No.
I pause and decide to just go for it. We have to start talking, something younger me didn’t understand, if we are ever going to work through this.
Me: I was afraid that if I stayed in my room at the Manor, I’d end up on your front porch, beating down the door to see you.
Ellison: I’m okay. He barely touched me.
Me: I know. I never would have let him hurt you, Ells.
Me: I’d be knocking down your door because being close to you tonight, even for a handful of minutes, is the most alive I’ve felt since the day I left for boot camp.
Ellison: You left me.
Me: I was always coming back.
Ellison: Yet, you never did. Not for me, anyway.
I don’t have to hear her voice to hear the hurt, and it guts me.
I want to open it all up. Right here. Right now.
However, I need to be in her presence when we do.
I need her to see my face and see my pain of missing her all these years.
I have regrets, so many regrets, but she didn’t respond to my letters, so it’s not all my fault.
Me: Can we talk?
Me: In person.
Ellison: I don’t know that there’s anything to say.
Me: I have so much I want to say to you, Ells.
Me: Please.
I feel like an hour has passed when it’s maybe a minute at most before her reply comes through.
Ellison: When?
Me: You tell me when.
Me: I just want some time for us to talk.
Me: I miss you, Ells.
Ellison: We have new walking trails at the Manor. We can maybe take a walk tomorrow afternoon.
Me: I think we need a place where we can be alone for this.
It feels like hours before she finally replies again.
Ellison: We have a small meeting room at the Manor that guests can reserve. I’ll check the schedule tomorrow and let you know.
Me: Thank you. I don’t care when. You name the time, and I’ll be there.
Ellison: Goodnight, Copeland.
Me: Goodnight, Ells.
Locking my phone screen, I place it back on the end table.
I don’t have a charger with me, so that’s the first order of business in the morning.
I don’t want to miss her call. I should text Kip and let him know I took his advice, but I think I’ll wait.
Maybe the next time we talk, it will be me telling him that I got my girl back.
A man can only hope.
Closing my eyes, I try to sleep, but I’m too excited. Finally, after all these years, we’re going to talk. I don’t know what to expect, and I don’t have a plan. I guess I’ll let my heart guide me.
What I do know is that I want her. I want us. I want a chance to see if these feelings that I’ve been carrying around for the last nearly two decades are the real deal or a figment of my imagination. It seems like I blinked, and too much time had passed.
I know that we’re different people now. We’re shaped by the time and the distance put between us. Yet, somehow, I feel it deep in my bones we’re still the same. That core of who we are and what we love, the spark we’ve always had, is still there, lingering just beneath the surface.
We need space to let the spark between us breathe again. To let it settle, grow, and find the courage to become a flame that doesn’t just flicker, but catches—bold and bright.
Tonight, I felt that spark. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was subtle yet undeniable… a quiet warmth that brushed against me, reminding me that something between us is still very much alive. It felt like the first hint of heat in cold hands—gentle but full of promise.
I can only hope that our spark has the chance to ignite fully. I want to feel what it could become. I want to stand in the warmth of it, let it wrap around me, let it mean something again. I crave it—not out of nostalgia, but because it feels real, present, possible.
And maybe that little spark is asking us both to stay open long enough to see where it leads. I can only hope it leads to a long, happy life with her. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.