Chapter 14
ELLIE (PRESENT)
Ijolt awake and spring into a sitting position, thumping my head against the cream-colored bedpost behind me.
The lingering influence of my nightmare has my heart galloping like the front-runner at the Kentucky Derby.
I rub the back of my head, trying to alleviate the sting as I control my labored breathing.
The strong aroma of coffee and bacon wafts into the guest room, letting me know my sister is awake.
The thought of facing her after what happened last night has me scratching imaginary hives.
I have a bad feeling. There is no other way to put it.
Fragments of my nightmare feel within grasp, but the details are hazy.
The ominous remnants of my dreams are projecting into my consciousness, leaving behind a weary sense of impending doom.
The depths of my stomach feel hollow, prickling with an anxiousness that extends beyond what happened with Nate last night.
It’s as though my subconscious is screaming at me to listen, but the language is foreign.
So, I do what I do best. I ignore the flashing warning signs that foreshadow the consequences on the horizon.
The relentless sunshine pokes through the gap between the two beige curtains that adorn casement-style windows, bringing me out of my troubling thoughts. Beige. Cream. White. Grey. My sister’s color scheme certainly doesn’t represent her normal eccentric tastes. How have I never noticed?
The bright rays blind me with their aggression, making my eyes water with the sudden intensity of the sunlight. This really is going to be my eternal punishment, isn’t it?
I rub away the sleep from my eyes and refocus my blurry vision on the bedroom door. Walking out there means facing last night, lying to my sister, and flying to an exotic destination with a man I try so hard not to love. He asked me to do it for him, but the truth is, I’m going to do it for me.
I want to go.
Lucifer sure is going to love it when I come traipsing through his fiery gates. I bet he has a whole spider dungeon with my name on it.
I scoot to the edge of the bed, stretching my arms above my head as I glance at the alarm clock.
I have thirty minutes to consume my daily light-roasted cup of sanity before we need to be on the road to the airport.
My mouth waters thinking about the dark, creamy liquid, and it quells any remaining apprehension about leaving this room.
Coffee—bringer of life, suppresser of guilt.
I scramble around the room, pulling items from my luggage to bring with me to the attached bathroom.
Leggings, T-shirt, toothbrush, concealer, and mascara.
Always mascara. I load the items into my arms and make my way into the bathroom, nudging the door open with my hip.
I flip the light on with my elbow and set my clothing on the closed toilet seat lid.
I turn toward the bathroom mirror and let out a soft yelp.
My reflection has me gasping in horror. I take a deep breath, puffing out my cheeks as I slowly release the air.
My eyes are encircled with dark bruises that rival a Mike Tyson opponent.
Smudges of mascara decorate the sides of my cheeks, courtesy of the tears that lulled me to sleep.
My face is puffy and swollen and in serious need of an ice bath.
The whites of my eyes are streaked in red from the virtually sleepless night of tossing and turning.
And my neck.
My neck is definitely sporting the evidence of Nate’s kiss.
All in all—I’m a complete mess.
Well, this might make things easier. Nate could take one look at me and decide he doesn’t want to go anymore. I certainly wouldn’t blame him.
I swallow hard, the joke falling flat in my mind. I can’t fathom not seeing this through anymore. I’ve already resigned myself to a lifetime of guilt.
I turn on the faucet and scoop cold water into my hands, splashing the liquid against my face to wash away the leftover makeup. I brush my teeth, apply mascara, and get dressed in my comfy travel attire. I decide against using my flat iron and leave my tresses wavy and loose.
I grab my packed bags and head out into the living room. My sister sits in the loveseat, staring vacantly at the plain white wall in front of her. Her eyes are puffy and share the same red streaks mine do this morning.
“Katie,” I call out. She remains unfazed. Unmoving. Watching the wall in front of her as if her favorite show is on. “Katie?” I try again. Her eyes slowly move away from the wall, and she glances up at me.
“Hi. Morning.” Her voice is rough, like she smoked a pack of cigarettes and downed a fifth of vodka last night.
“I’m just going to make some coffee, and then I’ll be ready to go.” When she doesn’t respond, I turn and walk a few feet to the kitchen. Something is off with her this morning. She doesn’t even seem mildly aware of what’s going on around her.
I move toward the large oakwood cabinet to grab a mug when one is placed on the counter in front of me.
Coffee already filled to the brim, smokey steam rising from the cup.
The perfect amount of cream. The fragrance is almost orgasmic after the night I had.
I turn around to find Nate behind me, a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth as he recaps the lid on the coffee creamer.
“Morning,” I say shyly, the weight of his gaze making me anxious. His eyes flick to mine, searching. He must like what he finds because he gives me his signature smile. The smile he only gives to me.
“Mornin’, Pip.” He sets a plate of bacon and toast next to my coffee and discreetly squeezes my hip from behind me.
His hand lingers, the feather-soft touch fading as it glides down my side when he passes.
I have the sudden desire to feel his hands all over me, right here on the kitchen counter, touching me in all the ways he knows that I love.
Because he knows me…just like he knows how I take my coffee.
“We should get on the road.” Katie’s lifeless voice breaks through my thoughts.
She’s standing in the living room, still facing the colorless wall as if it’s providing the answers to life’s most challenging questions.
My heart cracks at the sound of her desolate voice.
Why is it so easy for me to forget there is a person I love hurting on the other end of this?
I need to keep my head out of the clouds and redirect my attention to what really matters.
Helping Katie get through the heartbreak she will experience after we return.
These five days will be for me. To learn the truth.
To voice the things that I’ve needed to express.
To say goodbye.
Because as much as it hurts to acknowledge, Nate and Ellie will no longer exist beyond this week.
The twenty-minute car ride to the airport was quiet, verging on uncomfortable.
We all know we are traveling to pick up a wedding dress that will never be worn inside a church.
It will likely never be removed from the plastic garment bag protecting it from potential ruin, even though the destruction has already occurred.
We get out of the car, grabbing our luggage from the back of the SUV. Katie drives off the moment the trunk latches. No hug. No last looks. No goodbye.
The airport is packed with people shoving their way through the crowd in a desperate attempt to make their flights.
We make it through security quickly, gathering our belongings at the end of the conveyor belt.
As we weave down the long corridor toward our gate, Nate grabs my hand, threading our fingers together, ensuring I keep up.
I feel a jolt of electricity the second our hands connect.
He gives my hand a small squeeze, letting me know he feels it too.
I can’t explain it, but it just feels…right.
How quickly I forgot my game plan.
We arrive at our gate just as boarding begins. I expect Nate to let go of my hand, but he doesn’t. His thumb traces mine, calming my nerves, along with the remnants of my earlier foreboding thoughts.
“You ready, baby?” he asks softly. My heart flutters at the nickname. One he shouldn’t be giving me.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
He looks down at me, studying my face. “No, you don’t.” His hard eyes hold mine, challenging me to argue.
I can’t, so I decide to ignore him until we board the aircraft.
We walk onto the plane, hand-in-hand, and make our way down the slim aisle to our seats.
He steps to the side and lets me have the window.
I expect him to leave a space between us and take the aisle seat, but his large frame descends next to me in the middle.
The chilly air from the upper vent is shooting me directly in the eye, and Nate reaches up to close it.
I don’t even have to ask.
The flight attendants give us evacuation instructions, and I put in my ear pods, having heard this spiel too many times to count.
Before I know it, the plane is getting into the take-off position on the runway.
I feel Nate shift in my direction; he grabs ahold of my hand, threading our fingers once again.
“You hate this part,” he murmurs, his mouth turned up a fraction as he rests his head back against the seat with his eyes closed.
“You remember.”
“I remember everything,” he says quietly.
I look back up to find him staring at me, eyes so expressive they make me want to climb into his lap and kiss away the years that found themselves between us.
I don’t even notice when the plane begins to gather speed, propelling us into the air at a velocity that has my stomach dropping.
Still, I don’t look away.
We reach the appropriate altitude and my stomach settles, the popping in my ears beginning to diminish. I still grasp onto Nate’s hand, so tightly you’d think the plane was falling out of the sky. He rests our hands in my lap, his thumb making circles on my thigh.
I feel safe.