Chapter Thirty — Not Yours #2
Elliot’s expression hardened. Ronan knew they were about to fight. At a hospital. While Rebecca was upstairs. Perfect. Vance said, “I’ll give you an hour.” Then hung up. Ronan stared at the phone. Elliot stared at him.
“No.”
“You cannot keep saying no every time I need to do something you don’t like.”
“Watch me.”
“Ronan.”
“Nathan nearly killed us.”
“He also knows Saint.”
“Claims.”
“Yes.”
“He wants you there because he wants access to you.”
“I know.”
“Then why give it?”
“Because Saint has my mother kidnapped, took Claire, took Dylan, watched us sleep, listened to us have sex, and apparently knows more about my murders than police.”
Ronan glanced around.
“Volume.”
“No one heard.”
“Still.”
Elliot lowered his voice.
“I need to know.”
Ronan stared. That word. Need. Saint had built an entire relationship around it. Nathan had too. Ronan asked:
“Why?”
Elliot blinked.
“What?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“To stop Saint.”
“Try again.”
Elliot’s jaw tightened.
“Ronan.”
“No.”
“Stop therapizing me.”
“You’re the psychology major.”
“Exactly.”
“Then answer.”
Elliot looked toward the hospital. His mother somewhere upstairs. Then back.
“Because I need to know whether any part of my life was actually mine.”
That ended the argument. Ronan felt it physically. Fuck. Elliot continued.
“Tyler.”
“Yours.”
“Saint was there.”
“Still yours.”
“Grace.”
“Your choice.”
“They encouraged me.”
“Still your choice.”
“Benjamin.”
“Yours.”
“Mason. Lucas.”
“Yours.”
Elliot stared. Ronan realized what he was doing. Not absolving him. Opposite. Giving responsibility back. Elliot’s eyes softened.
“Even the bad?”
“Especially the bad.”
Silence.
“And us?” Elliot asked.
Ronan stared. There it was. The actual question. Saint knew about Ronan before they were together. Had watched. Encouraged Elliot’s possessiveness. Maybe manipulated jealousy. Maybe pushed Dylan. If Saint had touched that too— Ronan stepped closer.
“Us is ours.”
Elliot looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because Saint never made me kiss you.”
Silence.
“Never made me stay.”
Elliot swallowed.
“Never made me lie to Vance.” “That one is less romantic.” “Still counts.” A tiny smile.
Ronan continued. “And Saint sure as fuck didn’t make me call you my boyfriend five minutes ago.
” The smile grew. There. “Boyfriend.” “Do not start.” “I like it.” “I know.” Ronan looked toward the parking lot.
Then sighed. “Fine.” Elliot blinked. “What?” “We go.” “To Nathan?” “Yes.” Hope.
Immediate. “But.” Elliot groaned. “Of course.” “I’m in the room.
” “No.” “Then we don't go.” “Ronan.” “Nonnegotiable.” Elliot stared. Ronan stared back. Finally: “Fine.” “Genuine?” “No.” “Works.” “And if Nathan says something you don’t like?” “I’ll try not to beat the prisoner.
” “I was asking whether you’d leave.” Ronan stopped.
Ah. There. Fear again. “No.” Elliot studied his face.
“Promise?” That word. Ronan didn’t hesitate. “Promise.” Elliot exhaled. “Okay.”
Ronan touched his jaw. No kiss. Too public.
Too complicated. Elliot leaned slightly into the hand anyway.
Then the hospital doors opened. Rebecca emerged walking beside a nurse despite the wheelchair waiting three feet behind her.
Of course. Elliot’s entire expression softened.
Ronan saw it happen. Son. Not killer. Not Saint’s experiment.
Not monster. Just her son. Rebecca spotted them.
“You two ready?”
Elliot immediately went to her.
“You’re supposed to use the chair.”
“I am forty-seven, not ninety.”
“Mom.”
“Elliot.”
“You were hypothermic.”
“I was cold.”
“Your temperature—”
Rebecca put one finger against his mouth. Ronan started laughing. Elliot glared. She looked at Ronan.
“Please control your boyfriend.”
Silence. All three froze. Rebecca’s eyes widened. Ronan looked at Elliot. Elliot looked like somebody had physically rebooted him. Rebecca slowly lowered her hand.
“Was that the wrong word?”
Ronan smiled.
“No.”
Elliot looked at him. Ronan shrugged.
“Apparently not.”
Rebecca smiled. Small. Still uncertain. Trying.
Elliot’s eyes went suspiciously bright. He immediately looked away.
Ronan stepped closer. Not enough to embarrass him.
Enough. Rebecca saw. Said nothing. They walked toward the parking lot together.
For the first time since Saint entered their lives, Ronan felt something close to hope.
Not because Saint was gone. Not because Vance was close.
Not because Nathan was talking. Because Elliot had been given exactly the kind of choice Saint believed defined him.
And Elliot had chosen differently. That mattered.
Maybe people were more than the worst thing they had done.
Ronan still wasn’t sure. Five dead people made that question harder than most. But Elliot walked beside his mother now, lecturing her about wet clothing and core temperature while Rebecca rolled her eyes.
He looked back once. Checking. Ronan was still there.
Elliot relaxed. That mattered too. Nathan Reed looked worse than Ronan remembered.
Bellweather Police had placed them in an interview room at 3:18 P.M. Nathan sat on the opposite side of a bolted table wearing county-issued clothes and a bruise across half his face.
Elliot sat beside Ronan. Vance stood near the door.
Two officers remained outside. Nathan smiled when Elliot entered. Ronan immediately hated him.
“There he is.”
Elliot’s body tightened. Ronan touched his knee beneath the table. Stay. Elliot relaxed. Nathan noticed. His smile widened.
“And you brought him.”
Ronan leaned back.
“Disappointed?”
“No.”
Nathan looked at Elliot.
“I told you he’d choose you.”
Elliot’s face remained blank. Nathan continued.
“Even after he knew.”
“Get to Saint,” Ronan said.
Nathan looked at him.
“You’re rude.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Elliot likes that.”
Ronan’s jaw tightened. Elliot spoke first.
“Saint.”
Nathan smiled.
“You finally figured out I wasn't him.”
“Apparently.”
“That hurt.”
“No, it didn’t.”
Nathan’s smile faded slightly. Good. Elliot continued.
“You wanted me to think you were Saint.”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because Saint had you.”
Ronan felt Elliot go still. Nathan leaned forward.
“I wanted what they had.”
“What?”
“You.”
Elliot’s expression hardened. Nathan laughed.
“Not like Ronan.”
His eyes moved toward Ronan.
“I’m not stupid enough to think anyone gets that.”
Something possessive moved through Ronan. Nathan saw. Smiled. Elliot put his hand on Ronan’s thigh beneath the table. Stop. Funny. Roles reversed. Nathan continued.
“I wanted the part of you Saint had.”
“What part?”
“The one that listened.”
Elliot stared.
“I never listened.”
Nathan laughed.
“You killed five people.”
Silence. Ronan’s entire body locked. Vance went still near the door. Fuck. There. Out loud. Direct. Elliot’s hand tightened on Ronan’s thigh. Nathan smiled.
“Oh.”
He looked toward Vance.
“You didn’t tell her.”
Silence. Everything changed. Vance’s expression emptied.
“Five people.”