Chapter 20
NATE (SENIOR YEAR, HIGH SCHOOL)
Istretch out on top of my comforter, flipping through the Ohio State University brochures my recruiter sent me.
Red and grey colors embellish the background while students pose in the distance, their bodies decorated in OSU gear.
All smiling faces excited to learn. All likely bullshit.
Most guys my age see college as a chance to party and meet girls.
I see it as my chance for freedom.
Freedom means nothing if I don’t have Ellie with me.
I’ve struggled to tell her what I want, what I see for us after she graduates from high school.
I don’t want to force a path that she doesn’t want to take, or a future she doesn’t see for herself.
Not when I’ve been living that same nightmare for eighteen years.
I also can’t imagine not having her with me. I don’t know when it happened, but there is no longer a space between us. We aren’t one without the other. I want her to choose Ohio State for herself. I want her to choose to take the path that keeps us together.
I want her to choose me.
If she doesn’t? I will still choose her. I’d follow her to the ends of the earth. If she wants to go somewhere else? Then I’ll be the Westley to her Princess Buttercup.
As you wish, baby.
I’ve been thinking about this for months, and I’ve already got it planned out. I’ll be in my junior year when she starts college as a freshman. She won’t have to pay for room and board because I’ll have my own place. We’ll have our own place.
I’ll be everything she’ll ever need, and everything she’s never had. I’ll take care of her, hold her every night, love every single inch of her the way she deserves. I’ll be the man who loves her without reservation, without conditions.
I will love her with every single part of me.
My hands will only ever bring her comfort.
They’ll never raise in her direction with the intention of pain.
My touch will always be gentle. She’ll never flinch if I reach for her.
My mouth will only whisper tender words that betray my absolute devotion.
They’ll never spew venomous taunts that cause her pain.
My eyes will always see beyond her physical beauty to the remarkable woman inside, they’ll never leer at her or make her uncomfortable.
My heart will only ever beat to the rhythm of hers.
She’ll know she owns every piece of it. She’ll know that I’ll never break hers.
I will never break her.
I’ll be everything she’s never had at home. Everything she’s been for me. I’ll lay my heart bare and promise eternal devotion, because that’s what we are.
Eternal.
Irrevocable.
Inevitable.
I think of all she’s had to endure before she had me to protect her.
While she’s had me. Shame grips me, squeezing my chest as I think about the ways I’ve let her down.
That internal disgrace is quickly replaced by the absolute fury that floods my soul.
My fists clench, darkness obscuring my vision like a black sheet has been placed over my eyes.
I’m no longer me. I’m lost to the anger I possess. I lose control of my mind and body as the rage consumes me. I lift my arm, my fist clenched, and I strike the wall. Once. Twice. Three times.
Pieces of drywall fall to the floor as I regain composure.
I study the hole my wrath created. I wasn’t thinking straight, the only thing I pictured was Chris Hansel’s face.
That realization dumps ice cold water in my veins.
I shake out my hand, hardly feeling the pain.
I study the angry red skin and notice it’s already beginning to swell.
This reaction scares the hell out of me.
It feels too familiar. Too…familial. I make a conscious decision right here and now.
This will be the last time I react in anger.
I won’t become him.
But I will always defend what’s mine. If I have to—temporarily—become him to make sure she’s protected, it’s a risk I am willing to take.
When I think about what Ellie has been going through at home, things she hadn’t felt safe enough to tell me, I feel numb. I didn’t make her feel safe. The thought settles in my stomach like sour milk.
I swallow hard at the realization that she’d been a rock for me while grappling with her own monster.
A monster I should have slayed. Instead, I suited up in an armor of neglect and hid behind her strength, completely ignorant of the pain locked behind those vibrant green eyes.
I handed her my sword and stepped aside as she fought both of our battles with the strength of a crusader.
It turns out not every princess needs a Prince Charming.
That changes today. I’ll never be what Ellie deserves, but that just means I will try harder every day. Westley didn’t get it right the first time either, but he got a second chance to prove himself. I will spend the rest of my life proving myself to Ellie.
Still, I’m culpable for anything that motherfucker has done to her since she’s been mine. He will pay for every tear, every scream, every drop of fear he’s ever caused her. I’ll make sure he regrets hurting the love of my life.
Because she is—the love of my life. I already know this to be true.
I know I’m eighteen and I don’t know much about being in love, but I do know what I have with Ellie extends outside the realm of ordinary.
I don’t have a clear example of a good relationship at home, but I remember my grandparents fondly.
I remember wondering why my mom and dad didn’t behave like them.
I used to watch them with curious eyes, the kind way they spoke to each other, their love radiating from every word.
I remember the way grandpa would pull grandma out of her chair, making her drop her needle and thread as he twirled her around their living room.
He would play her favorite song and sing to her as they danced around the house.
Grandma would giggle like the girls at school, slapping his arm affectionately while scolding him for being ridiculous.
You could tell she loved every minute of it, though.
I remember asking my grandpa why he always chose the song, “I can’t help falling in love with you.
” It didn’t make sense to me then. He was already in love with grandma.
He said it was because Elvis was the king, and that he still fell in love with grandma every day.
He told me that the key to loving someone really well was to never stop falling.
I didn’t get it then…but I think I get it now.
My grandparents were seventeen when they met, and they were eighty-eight when they were buried beside each other, three months apart.
Grandma knew she was going to be with grandpa before the rest of us.
She sat me on her lap one night and told me she had to leave me.
She told me to remember the way her and grandpa loved each other and know that is how love is supposed to look.
She told me my mother lost herself, but I didn’t have to be lost too.
I remember crying, begging her not to leave me behind.
She cuddled me for a long time before telling me that when you love someone as much as she loves grandpa, your heart stops working when they are no longer with you.
I get that now too.
My heart would not beat without Ellie. Not anymore.
I’ve been trying to find ways to float the idea of living together after she graduates, but I fumble each time.
It’s hard to talk about your future with someone when you’re keeping a secret from them.
I hate feeling like I am lying to her, but I’ll hate seeing the pain cross her face after learning the truth even more.
Regardless of her feelings for her father, she’s only ever known him to be her father.
She never talked to me about him before that night. She thought I didn’t notice her aversion to being home. The way she casually changed the subject whenever I mentioned meeting him one day. I noticed though. I noticed everything but the absolute hell she’d been living in.
She knows I was there, that I heard what kind of man her father is.
We talked for hours that night, she cried in my arms, and I promised to always keep her safe.
She knows my window will be unlocked every night, including the nights I’m not home.
She knows I want her sleeping here, with or without me.
But she doesn’t know all of the truths that were confessed.
I don’t know how to tell her.
I hear a car door shut outside and walk over to my window.
I pull the white curtain back and spot her old, red Chevrolet in the driveway.
She steps out of the car and grabs her books from the back seat before heading up the walkway to my front door.
She trips over a rock and her books go flying everywhere.
I can’t help the laugh I let out. She’s too fucking adorable as she stomps around and gathers her books.
I should go down there and help, or at least meet her at the door, but I stay still, completely mesmerized by—her. Just her.
Emmy answers the door and lets her inside. I love the relationship they’ve built, despite their age difference. Ellie has become just as protective over Emmy as I am. It makes me love her even more. Emmy is the only person that knows about us, and she loves that we have our own little secret.
I hear the sound of footsteps stomping up carpeted stairs, so I know they are intentional. My door clicks open, and I turn around to meet her annoyed expression. I raise my brow. “Making yourself known, dear?” I smirk.
She does not find me funny.
“I know you saw me,” she huffs, placing her books on my desk, “and I know you laughed.” She raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to deny it.
I don’t.
She throws a pillow at me.
I dodge it and I run after her, tackling her as we fall onto my bed. She giggles and pushes at my chest demanding I let her go.
I don’t.
Instead, I start tickling her, all the spots I know drive her insane. She loses it, laughing hysterically while she tries to push me off of her.
“Stoooop,” she both laughs and yells at the same time, “I–I can’t breathe…” Her fits of giggles are spurring me on.
I lift her shirt to get better access and immediately freeze. Her beautiful skin is decorated with a fist-size bruise, a shade that indicates it materialized recently. She releases a small gasp when she realizes what I’m looking at.
“It’s not…It’s not what you think,” she starts to fumble through her explanation. “It’s never happened before. He was just really, really drunk. I was in his way—”
“Stop.”
“—it was just a little shove. The corner of the table was there and—”
“STOP!” I don’t mean to yell. I would never intentionally scare her, but I can’t listen to her defend him.
Not after the things I heard two weeks ago.
She jumps anyway, her expression both shocked and wounded.
“Pip, baby, I’m sorry. Fuck. I didn’t mean to scare you.
” I sigh, regaining control of my emotions.
“Just…don’t make excuses for him, please.
He hurt you, baby, and that is not okay. ”
“I…I know.” Unshed tears glisten in her eyes, and she looks down, almost ashamed. “He’s really never hurt me before, though,” she whispers, like she’s afraid of my response.
“I can’t protect you… I can’t be here for you…if you’re not honest with me, Ellie.”
“I know,” she hiccups, trying to keep her tears at bay, “I just didn’t want to add more to your plate. Your life—”
“YOU are my life, Pip. I trusted you with all of the skeletons in my closet. I need the same from you, baby. I need you to let me be there for you, take care of you, love you like you deserve.”
She gasps. “You…you love me?” Tears fill her eyes again, but this time she lets them fall.
Shit. Fuck. Dammit. I didn’t mean to tell her I love her this way.
I had something a lot more romantic in mind, but I’m certainly not going to take it back.
“Yes, Ellie. I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything.
So much that it’s really hard for me to stay here,” I admit, “every part of me wants to leave you here, drive to your house, and break both of his hands.”
She stares at me, tears free-falling, complete adoration reflected in her eyes.
“But you won’t,” she declares, confidence flooding her next words, “because you’re not him.
You’re better than him…so much better.” She walks over to me and slides her arms around my waist from behind.
She turns her head, resting her cheek against my back.
“I love you too,” she whispers as her tears soak through my T-shirt.
“I love you so much that sometimes it feels like it hurts. But, like…in the best way.”
I cradle her arms in mine, sliding them up my chest until my lips can reach her fingers. I kiss them all and take a deep breath before releasing it slowly.
She loves me.
I unclasp her hands and walk over to my desk. I grab my phone and swipe across the screen until I find the little pink star. I see her eyeing me curiously as I open the app and type in the search bar. A familiar melody drifts from my speakers and fills the space between us.
I walk back over to her and take her hand, pulling her to the middle of my room.
She laughs as I twirl her around before bringing her close, my arms wrapping around her waist, hers around my neck.
We sway to the soft rhythm, drunk on the emotions inspired by our declaration of love.
I lean forward, quietly singing the lyrics close to her ear the way my grandfather used to.
“Wise men say…”