19. Eli
Eli
Adrian’s hands wrap around my throat, squeezing. I can’t breathe.
My lungs seize. My fingernails claw at his wrists, desperate to break his grip. I just need one breath: anything.
I pull harder, but he’s stronger. My vision blurs. Blood runs down my face.
The pressure eases for a fraction of a second, and I drag in a ragged breath and scream. The sound rips out of me, raw and broken, echoing through the darkness like a last attempt at survival.
“Eli! Wake up, baby. Eli!”
My chest is tight, like someone is sitting on it. The voice feels like a lifeline thrown into a storm I can’t escape.
I thrash, still trapped in the dream, my hands locked around my own throat. My lungs burn. I can’t breathe.
“Eli!”
Louder this time. Closer. Hands grip my shoulders.
“Eli, wake up. It’s CJ. Come on, Eli. Wake up for me, please.”
My eyes snap open. Air tears into my lungs as my whole body shakes. I gasp and cough, dragging breath after breath into my chest. My throat feels raw. The room tilts as reality slams back into place.
Then I see the blood.
I lift a shaking hand to my face. Blood coats my fingertips and my nails. I scratched myself.
“…CJ.” My voice breaks on the word.
He pulls me into his arms immediately. “I’ve got you,” he says, repeating it over and over. His arms tighten around me as he rocks me slowly, and I cling to him, my breath broken against his chest.
“He was trying to kill me,” I whisper, my voice barely working. “He had his hands around my throat. I couldn’t breathe, CJ.”
My voice cracks. The memory is still too close, too real.
“I heard you screaming, Eli,” he says, his voice rough against my hair. “You wouldn’t wake up.”
He pulls me down until we’re lying face to face, and my chest loosens slightly. Being close to him feels like the only thing keeping me grounded.
I tell him about the dream, or the parts I remember. That’s when his eyes catch the scratches on my face and arms, and the blood.
“Jesus Christ, Eli.” His voice shakes, and the worry in his eyes makes my stomach twist.
He disappears into the bathroom and returns with a warm washcloth, carefully wiping the blood from my skin.
The scratches sting, but he says nothing.
He goes back to the bathroom, returning with ointment and plasters, smoothing the cream over the worst of it and covering them carefully.
The gentleness in every movement feels like something I’m still not used to receiving.
When he’s done, he sits on the edge of the bed, waiting, asking without words. I lift the blankets, and he climbs in beside me.
His arm settles around my waist. I place my hands on his chest and focus on his heartbeat. The steady rhythm anchors me, and my breathing starts to slow.
“I’m okay, CJ.”
He nods, but he doesn’t answer.
The silence feels wrong. Then I hear it: a quiet sniff.
My hand lifts to his face, and I realize my Sunshine is crying. Seeing him break because of me feels like a punch straight to the heart.
“I’m okay, CJ,” I whisper again. This time I’m not trying to convince myself; I’m trying to convince him.
CJ stays quiet for a moment. “Your screams reminded me of someone,” he says finally, “someone close to me.”
His voice catches, like it’s snagging on something he’s spent years trying not to touch.
“He died. I’ll never forget those screams. My screams.” A cold ache settles beneath my ribs as his grief sits heavy in the space between us.
After a long silence, he continues. “His name was Charlie. He was my partner.”
“Your partner?” I ask softly. “Like in the army?”
He shakes his head. “Yes. But we were together. I loved him.” He swallows hard. “He was killed on a mission three years ago.”
I place my hand back on his chest and rest my forehead against his, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. Before long, I hear the soft rhythm of him drifting into sleep, a quiet snore slipping out between breaths.
I close my eyes, lean in, and press a gentle kiss to his nose: a promise I don’t know how to put into words.
Because in that moment, I realize I’m not the only one carrying ghosts.
I lay listening as CJ told me about Charlie, and I could see the sorrow and the guilt still st heavy in his chest. When exhaustion finally pulled us under, we drifted off wrapped tightly together, promising protection to each other, in a world that offered none.
* * *
When I wake the next morning, CJ has me tucked against him: one arm draped over my waist, my back pressed against his chest.
For a moment, I don’t move. I just breathe him in. His warmth behind me feels like absolute safety. I glance down at the scratches on my arms, then brush my fingers over my face where the plasters sit raised against my skin.
CJ’s breathing is warm against the back of my neck: slow and steady. He’s still asleep.
Being curled into him feels like the most natural thing in the world.
He shifts behind me, letting out a low groan, and a smile tugs at my mouth.
His arm tightens around me, possessive and firm.
The word mine flickers through my mind, but it doesn’t frighten me the way it used to; instead, a quiet warmth spreads through me.
CJ exhales against my neck. “You’re thinking too loud,” he mutters, his voice thick with sleep, his teasing pulling me back into the moment.
I laugh softly. “Oh, you can hear my thoughts now?”
“Unfortunately.” I feel his smile against my shoulder. “You make a lot of noise for someone lying perfectly still.”
I shake my head and slip out of bed. The room is cold, and CJ grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like a complaint about me leaving before burying himself deeper under the blankets.
I leave him and head for the bathroom. The mirror is brutal: red scratches, plasters, pale skin, swollen eyes. The reflection is a stark reminder of everything I’m still fighting.
I look absolutely fucking wrecked, and not in a good way. That’s when last night hits me again: the nightmare, the message, the panic. Deck and Finn were there, too, though I’m not entirely sure what was real and what my brain stitched together.
I splash water on my face and head to my room. I grab track pants, a T-shirt, my hoodie, and my fluffy duck socks.
What? Marge bought them for me. There’s no judging duck socks.
I remember her voice clearly: “You’re going to need these. It gets cold.”
I glance at the rain hammering against the windows. God, I miss her and Ree. Maybe I’ll see them again one day. I hope they’re okay.
When I walk into the kitchen, Deck and Finn are already there, coffee in hand, like they don’t have their own places.
The second Finn sees me, he stands and pulls me into a hug. I hug him back without speaking, and when he eventually lets go, he studies my face.
I drop my eyes. “Nightmare,” I whisper.
“Eli, no excuses,” he says softly. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
He hooks his arm through mine and guides me toward the table. CJ has already set a plate in front of my chair. Yes, I have a chair now. Eggs, bacon, and hash browns fill the plate, and I look at him. “You’re expecting me to eat all this?”
“Yep,” CJ says. “Last time you ate was yesterday afternoon, and that was half a muffin.”
I pick up my fork and force a bite. My stomach twists, but I swallow it down. Finn sets a coffee in front of me, and I drink half of it immediately.
My chest feels tight, my eyes burning. I stare at my hands and notice they’re shaking, my fingers locked together so tightly my knuckles are white. My breath stutters as panic sits heavy under my skin, waiting to break loose.
Finn’s hands cover mine. “Eli, don’t,” he says softly.
I look up with tears in my eyes.
“You’re safe,” his thumb brushes my knuckles. “My Lumberjack and your Sunshine will keep you safe.”
I blink. “Your Lumberjack?”
I glance at Deck. He’s at the counter, suddenly very interested in his coffee and avoiding my eyes completely. A small laugh escapes me. Even now, these three men make the world feel lighter.
I turn back to Finn. “We are definitely talking about that later.”
Finn grins. “You didn’t deny the ‘Sunshine’ part, though.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling. Because yeah, I’ve said it to Finn, just never to CJ. Not out loud.
CJ rinses his mug and turns to me. “Eli, I’ll grab my laptop. We need to talk about Adrian. About yesterday, and what we do next.”
I nod, but my feet don’t want to move. I force myself to walk over and sit on the couch, my plate of food left on the counter, untouched. I want to eat, and I know I should, but my stomach twists painfully. Fear steals every bit of appetite I have.
CJ sits beside me and opens his laptop.
This is it again: this is when I have to tell my story again, only now I’m not alone in it. But I can already hear the questions: Why didn’t you leave? Why did you stay? Why did you let it happen?
I’ve heard them before. I’ve asked them myself. The cruelest one always comes last: Why didn’t you leave?
People don’t understand. You don’t choose to stay; you survive it.
“Eli,” CJ’s voice pulls me back. “Baby, look at me.”
I turn my head slowly toward him.
“You don’t have to tell them anything,” he says.
I stare at him.
“I spoke to Deck last night and asked him to tell Finn,” he adds. “About Adrian. About everything.”
My breath leaves me. “They know?”
He nods. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Relief hits so hard my knees almost give out. It isn’t happiness; it’s pure, weightless release.
“Okay,” I whisper.
CJ balances the laptop on my knees. “Okay, baby. Show us, Adrian.”
My hands shake as I pull up the hospital directory and search for his photo, waiting for it to load. Then, there he is: Doctor Adrian Blackwell.
Perfect smile. Perfect posture. Perfect life.
Dread crawls through me as memories start to claw back, hovering around the edges.
CJ’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I flinch before I can stop myself: pure instinct snapping tight until I force myself to breathe and remember where I am, and who I’m with. I’m safe. CJ is safe.
I look back at the picture: dark hair, controlled expression, tailored suit, all restraint and composure. And then I see it: the tattoo of chains and eyes. The eye color matches mine. My body shivers uncontrollably as a wave of coldness sweeps through me.
My stomach twists, and I shut the laptop harder than I mean to, guilt hitting me immediately. Adrian wants me back, and now I’ve dragged CJ, Deck, and Finn into this. The guilt is suffocating, heavy enough to crush me.
“I can’t do this to you,” I whisper. “CJ, you don’t have to do this.”
His expression shifts. “He took photos of us,” CJ says. “A private moment. He violated you.” His voice stays controlled. “He’s tracking you, Eli. Threatening you. This is serious. He is dangerous.”
“That’s not what I meant, ” I start, but Finn’s voice cuts through.
“He isn’t acting like it’s not serious, CJ!”
The room goes dead silent as Finn stands up.
“Don’t say that again,” Finn hisses, pointing his finger at CJ. He’s angry. I can feel the tension spike, my stomach rolling as the atmosphere shifts violently around us.
Deck stands, too, placing a steadying hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Come on, Little one. Let’s get some air.”
Finn lets himself be guided out, still glaring at CJ over his shoulder. The balcony door closes, sealing us in silence.
CJ turns back to me. “Eli,” he takes my hands, “I’m sorry. I was angry, and I put that on you. That wasn’t fair.”
The panic in my chest loosens slightly, his sincerity steadying me more than I expect. I search his face for anger, but all I see is genuineness, and my CJ.
I lean in and kiss him, the kiss feeling like a lifeline. I feel his lips move beneath mine, tentative at first, before he shifts slightly and deepens it. It is slow and grounded. Adrian fades along with the fear until there is only CJ.
When he pulls back, he brushes a kiss to my nose.
“I’ve been trying not to fall for you since the night I saw you in that car,” he says quietly. “But Eli… I have fallen in love with you. Hard. So fucking hard, Baby Boy.”
My breath catches as I open my eyes. He’s smiling, showing that dimple, his words hitting me deep and overwhelming me.
I breathe in shakily, but it doesn’t settle anything; it only makes me more aware of how tightly everything inside me is wound, like I’ve been holding myself together for too long in too many places at once.
I swallow hard, trying to anchor myself in him instead of the storm still moving through my chest.
“You’re my safe harbor, CJ,” I whisper, the words feeling like a surrender I didn’t know I was ready for. “You make me feel like I matter… like I’m not just surviving things anymore.”
My chest caves inward, but I don’t fight the tears this time. Something inside me has already given up the fight: not in a bad way, but in a necessary one.
And when I look at him, really look at him, the truth comes out like a complete surrender.
“I love you, CJ.” The words feel like stepping off a cliff and trusting he’ll catch me.
He kisses me again, slower this time. When he pulls me in, he doesn’t let go, holding me like it’s already been decided, like neither of us needs to say anything else because we’ve said everything that matters.
His tongue slides into my mouth, his hands framing my face as if I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
For a moment, there is no space left between us at all.
The kiss softens, slowing into gentler, lingering presses of his lips against mine before he shifts, brushing them along my jaw: unhurried and reverent, like he’s memorizing me.
Then he leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “I love you, Baby Boy.”
I smile into his shoulder, and then I hear the promise.
“If Adrian is behind this,” CJ says quietly, “he doesn’t get to touch you again. Ever.”
Tears slip down my face.
“Do you know why he can’t reach you anymore?” CJ murmurs, leaning back to look me in the eye.
I shake my head.
He lifts my chin. “Because, Eli…” His voice is steady and certain. “You are mine.”
The words spread through me like heat, settling deep in my chest: fierce and unshakable. There is no hesitation or doubt as he kisses me again, and I let myself believe it. I want to be his, and somewhere deep inside me, I know I already am.