Chapter 15 Annie #2
"How did it go?" I ask as he comes inside. He’s carrying a bag that smells like Chinese food, and my stomach automatically growls. I haven’t eaten since the sandwiches he made us earlier. I don’t know how to cook in the first place, and I’ve been too stressed to even try.
"Fine." But he looks exhausted, and there's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there this morning. "Ronan's getting more desperate. He's offering a reward for any information about your whereabouts."
"How much?"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand."
I whistle low. "That's going to bring out every opportunist in Boston."
"That's what I told him." Elio shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over a chair. "But he's not thinking rationally right now. He just wants his sister back." He sets the bag of food down on the coffee table and starts to unpack it.
The guilt returns, sharp and insistent. "What else happened?" I frown at the bag. “And where on earth did you find Chinese takeout?”
“There’s a town about ten miles from here, on the way in. One of those little places people stop in, and out of the way up here for camping. They have a tiny Chinese joint, and I remembered you like it.” He takes out a container and holds it up. “Orange chicken still your favorite?”
Something melts in my chest at the fact that he remembers that. It’s such a small detail, from so long ago. “Yes.” I swallow hard against the lump in my throat as I sit down on the couch, reaching for the hot container. “With lo mein?”
Elio smiles—the first real, wide smile I’ve seen from him all day. “I’m glad I got it right.”
For that brief moment, everything else falls away. The danger, the trauma from the attack, the guilt, the reason why we’re here, the guards outside. It’s just Elio and me, in this small, private space, sharing a meal together. Something we haven’t done in years.
“We almost never got to get takeout,” I say, biting down on a smile as I take the container of lo mein from him, too.
“Padraigh hated it. Said it was ‘below us.’ Remember the times when he was out of town and we’d play rock, paper, scissors to see whose allowance would buy it?
And then we’d pretend to not be hungry at dinner and sneak off into the garden when it was delivered to eat it, so no one could tell on us? ”
Elio laughs. “I do remember that. I remember us bribing the driver to take us places, too, when we were older. Like that Italian spot, or our favorite Chinese restaurant.”
Our. The word makes my breath catch for a moment. It doesn’t mean anything—he could have meant all of us, him and me and Tristan and Ronan. But it feels like he means just him and me. Just the two of us.
Elio takes his own food out—an egg roll, Mongolian beef, and shrimp fried rice—and sets it out.
“I pointed Ronan in the direction of a small gang that used to be affiliated with Rocco. Did some of their dirty work.” He looks at me sideways.
“Ronan is about to make their life hell for the foreseeable future.”
Guilt burns through me again. Bad things are going to happen to those men because we’re lying to Ronan. But I tell myself that if they worked for Rocco, they were bad men anyway. Maybe Ronan will uncover some things they’re doing that need to be stopped. Maybe it won’t all be for the worse.
We sit there for a few long minutes, digging into our food. It’s delicious, and I was hungrier than I realized until the food showed up.
“What did you do all day?” Elio asks, glancing over at me, and I laugh.
“Tried to stay busy and keep my mind off of things.” I glance over at the sparkling-clean kitchen, and Elio’s mouth twitches.
“Did it work?”
“Not really,” I admit. I stab another piece of chicken with my fork to keep from saying what’s on the tip of my tongue: I was waiting for you to come back.
I missed Elio when he was gone. I’ve missed him for years; I’ve just never wanted to let myself admit it. Why, when he was the one who left me? Why, when I could never have him?
It just felt like punishing myself for something that was never my fault.
But now he’s back. Now I’m alone in this cabin, with him, and everything that I’ve been pushing down for all these years feels as if it’s coming back up, like the sudden proximity combined with the trauma is making me remember how I used to feel.
Everything I used to want so badly.
Elio gets up when we’re finished eating and cleans up the meal, waving for me to stay seated as he collects the takeout containers and bag. When he comes back in, he pauses in the doorway, looking momentarily awkward.
“It’s getting late. We should both probably get some rest.” He rubs the back of his neck, then heads toward the linen closet, where I realize he’s probably getting out pillows and blankets to crash on the couch.
I’ve slept alone my whole life. I’ve never had anyone in bed next to me. I don’t even know what it’s like to fall asleep with or wake up next to someone. But suddenly, the thought of going to bed alone feels unbearably lonely. Almost… frightening.
I don’t want to be alone right now.
“Elio?” I bite my lip, twisting my fingers together in my lap. He pauses, one hand on the door of the linen closet as he turns to face me.
"Yeah?"
"Will you—" I stop, suddenly embarrassed. "Will you stay with me tonight? I don't want to be alone."
His eyes widen, and I see the struggle play out on his face. He wants to say yes—I can see it in his eyes. But he also knows it's a bad idea. Knows that being in close proximity to me, especially in a bed, is asking for trouble.
We both know it. But I’m telling the truth—I don’t want to be alone.
"Annie—"
"Please. I won't—I'm not asking for anything except for you to just… be there. I just need to know you're there. That I'm safe."
The plea does it. I see his resistance crumble. "Okay,” he says finally, letting out a slow breath. “But I'm sleeping on top of the covers. Deal?” A small smile twitches the corner of his mouth, and I feel something inside of me melt.
I nod, telling myself that this will be fine. "Deal."
—
Except keeping our distance proves to be impossible.
We start out on opposite sides of the bed, me under the covers and Elio on top of them, with at least two feet of space between us. But I can't sleep. I'm too aware of him, too aware of his breathing, the heat of his body so close to mine. It’s been a long time since he’s been this close to me.
He snuck into my bedroom once, when we were seventeen.
We lay on top of the covers, not touching for a long time, just breathing each other’s air.
We knew how much trouble we’d both be in if we were caught—Elio more so than me.
He didn’t even kiss me that afternoon. But I saw it all playing out on his face, every thought, everything he was imagining.
This feels like that. Except now, we’re adults. There’s no parent to catch us, no older brothers to walk in on us. No one is going to stop us if we touch. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.
What I do know is how the memory of what Desmond did is still making me feel. How no matter how many times I shower, I can’t get him off my skin. And I wonder if there’s a different way. A way to erase his touch by replacing it with the one that I want.
"Elio?" I whisper into the darkness.
His voice sounds thick when he answers. "Yeah?"
"Are you asleep?"
"No." A pause. "You okay?"
"I can't stop thinking about Desmond. About what he did." I curl onto my side, facing where I know Elio is even though I can't see him in the darkness. "When he grabbed me, when he—touched me—I felt so powerless. So scared."
I hear Elio shift, and then his voice comes closer. "I'm sorry, Annie. I’m sorry that… there’s no way I could have been there. No way I could have stopped it from happening, but I still… I wish I could have.’
"Of course you couldn’t have." I reach out blindly and find his hand. There are calluses on his fingers. His hands aren’t as soft as some men’s.
Not as soft as Desmond’s were, and I like it.
I want a roughness that I’m asking for. A man that I know I want instead of one I’m unsure about.
"But I need—I want to replace those memories with something else. Something better."
"Annie." There's a warning in his voice. "We talked about this. We can't—"
"I'm not asking you to sleep with me," I say quickly, although just the thought makes my entire body flare with heat. But I know what that would mean—Elio taking my virginity. It would mean something for us, but it would mean something more for Elio’s place in this world, too. If Ronan found out—
But I don’t want to think about my brother right now.
"I'm just asking you to touch me,” I whisper. To make me feel something good."
His voice is tight, almost strangled when he speaks. If I reached out and touched him, I know he’d be hard. The thought sends a thrill through me. "That's still crossing a line."
"We've already crossed so many lines, Elio. What's one more?" I pull his hand to my waist, holding it there. "Please. I need this. I need you." I chew on my lower lip, my fingers caressing the back of his hand. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”
I hear him swallow hard. He knows I’m right. This is where we stopped, right before he left. His hands on me, mine on him. Never our mouths, never anything further than that. Kisses and touches. As much pleasure as we could give each other without crossing a line that we couldn’t come back from.
For a long moment, he doesn't move. Then, slowly, his hand starts to move, sliding under my shirt—his shirt—to rest against my bare skin. The touch is gentle, almost reverent.
It’s the first time he’s touched me like this in eleven years. It feels like it should mean something. I know it does mean something, even if neither of us will say it. Even if it never goes further than this.
There’s no future for us. There never has been. But this moment… this one is just ours.
Just like all the stolen moments back then.