Chapter 27 Ellis
ELLIS
Thirty years.
My head was hardly on the road as we threaded our way toward San Marino, where Liv had told us Jedd lived.
No—I was still back on that Ferris wheel, holding the hands of a stranger who knew exactly how twisted my soul was and had gently unworked every knot and loop until I melted into a weightless puddle.
Thirty years.
She had gone thirty years with the heart of a virtual stranger, I doubt her deceased heart’s owner had appeared in front of her.
That was thirty years of mornings and birthdays that had never been promised.
Thirty years of exciting days and boring days.
Days filled with fun and laughter, and others filled with chores and monotony.
I had hardly ever let myself imagine a number so large for my own life.
I had always felt as if my life were bracketed by expiration dates and color-coded pill cases. That I had to be on my own, protecting people from the fallout that was the never-ending bad luck of my existence. But there was something so jarring about seeing that woman, about being in that moment.
What were the odds of someone who had gone through something I had, stepping into that car?
Something unlatched in my chest, and the weight I had been carrying, which had far outweighed the scar and was heavier than the fear that had dictated so much of my life, shifted. It wasn’t gone; I didn’t think it ever would be, but it was lighter.
Because maybe I didn’t have to die young.
Maybe I could picture more now, and mean it.
Dove lounged in the seat beside me as I drove, her hand rifling through a bag of candy she had bought at the pier, her space buns losing some of their tightness and falling in that charming way they always did after too much wind.
Liv, of course, sat close in the seat behind us, her knees bouncing against the back of Dove’s chair, fingers drumming on her thighs as her eyes stayed locked on the GPS pin moving across my phone, guiding me to an address in San Marino.
“So, he’s rich,” Dove murmured as we hit it, her voice uninterested as we ventured farther into the suburb.
And look, I had seen money before—I had gone to enough hospital donor events—but this felt like something else entirely. The streets were wide and elegant, shaded by arches of massive sycamore trees. The manicured lawns looked more like green velvet than actual grass.
Houses sprawled majestically, looking more like something out of a movie than places ordinary people would live in.
Mediterranean villas stood out on the proud lawns, with their red tile roofs, broken up by what looked like colonial revivals, proud columns supporting the facades, and a mass of high hedges with wrought-iron gates, a curated perfection of privacy.
“Can ghosts throw up?” Liv asked with a groan, pressing her hand to her head.
“Let’s not find out,” Dove muttered, leaning away and half turning to face her. “It’s going to be okay, all right? Sure, it might get a little hairy in the beginning—trying to explain, you know, things—but then we’ll be fine.”
“Hmph,” Liv muttered, letting her head fall against the back of the seat.
I turned down a street and realized we were heading into a cul-de-sac. The red pin marked the address, and I blinked as I slowed the car in front of a pale stucco house with impressive balconies and a perfectly trimmed bougainvillea climbing up its side.
A large boat sat tucked behind the house, down a long drive, half visible past the imposing gate.
I cleared my throat and looked to Dove, who raised her brows and then glanced back at Liv.
“Liv,” she murmured. “If you aren’t ready… we don’t have to do this yet.”
“Yes,” Liv snapped quickly, lifting her head. “I do. I have to. Just—just give me a second, okay?”
We sat in silence while Liv gathered herself in the back.
I would never fully understand what this moment meant for her.
She would be a step closer to passing on—or so we thought—but she hadn’t seen Jedd since that awful night.
She had only recently realized he was alive, after he finally texted Dove back.
“Okay,” Liv said, clearing her throat. “Text him. Tell him you’re outside the house.”
Dove nodded once and grabbed her phone. I watched as she tapped out a message, noticing how her finger hesitated over the send button before she finally hit it. I was reminded just how much this moment meant for her, too.
Jedd was supposed to be helping with Margaret’s ashes.
“Done,” Dove said, looking up. Her eyes caught mine, and I gave her a small smile.
“Now we wait,” Liv said, relief coating her voice. “Hopefully a long time.”
Ding!
I raised a brow at Dove, and she glanced down.
“He replied,” she said, her voice breathless. “Oh my God, he’s coming out. Oh my God, what do we do?”
“We relax,” I said with a laugh. “We can’t freak out on him. Channel some of that inner calm Dove mode you have—I can’t do this on my own. I hate strangers.”
Liv’s whole body looked braced for impact, and when the creak of the iron gates opening reached us, she let out a yelp and vanished from the car, materializing on the curb to pace nervously.
Dove hurriedly got out, and I followed, taking the keys from the ignition.
The warmth of the California sun slipped through the shade of the trees.
I locked the car and drew in a calming breath, realizing we were about to do a lot of explaining to some poor, unwitting guy who had no idea what was coming.
As I rounded the car and came to stand beside Dove, I noticed a figure walking down the drive, his posture firm and his frame tall and broad.
The closer he came into view, the more I took him in.
He had that all-American, boy-next-door look about him, the way his broad shoulders filled out his white T-shirt, gray sweats hanging loose around his hips.
His brown hair was a mess, and he ran a hand through it as he walked.
“Fuck,” Liv whispered, a low whistle escaping her lips as she stopped pacing, staring at him with devastation. “I forgot how hot he was.”
I rolled my eyes, but Dove’s lips twitched as if she were fighting a laugh, and I clamped down on the smile tugging at my own.
Liv was always going to be Liv.
When he finally reached us, I noticed the light coating of stubble on his face and the tired, sharp look in his eyes—guarded and wary—as he glanced between Dove and me.
He stopped a few feet away, crossing his arms. As his gaze swept over me and then Dove, his eyes narrowed slightly, cataloging the two strangers standing in front of him.
“Dove Marley?” he asked, curiosity in his voice as his attention shifted to her.
“That’s me,” she murmured, tugging at the hem of her oversized shirt, sounding nervous. “This is Ellis Langley. We, uh, we drove here from California.”
“So I could put your grandmother’s ashes into fireworks?” he asked, disbelief in his voice. “You know there are companies that do this shit, right?”
“Yeah, um,” Dove stuttered, then cleared her throat. “We’re also friends of Liv’s.”
His entire body stiffened, as if burned, and his eyes locked onto Dove.
“Yeah, you mentioned that.” He crossed his arms defensively. “It’s funny, though. I knew all of Liv’s friends. A lot of people like to say they were Liv’s friends, then run back to a journalist or make a TikTok about her. About what happened.”
Dove hesitated, nerves radiating off her as I watched her tongue dart across her lip, her body coiled with the weight of being the messenger.
She seemed to flounder, her mouth opening and closing, while beside her Liv stared at Jedd like he was the oxygen she’d been missing.
Her pink hair blazed in the sunlight, and her hand hovered half raised, as though she could bridge the distance and touch him if only she were brave enough.
The devastation in her eyes made my stomach twist.
I cleared my throat, not realizing I was doing it until the sound was already sharp in the stillness of the afternoon, on this quiet street. Both Jedd’s and Dove’s eyes flicked to me, and though my tongue felt like lead, the words forced their way out, quiet and steady.
“I’m Ellis Langley,” I began, the syllables heavy and controlled despite the hammering of my pulse, my scar burning beneath my shirt as I lifted my chin. “And I have Liv’s heart in my chest.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Jedd’s expression faltered for just a moment, the guarded suspicion in his eyes cracking into shock, then confusion, and finally something rawer I couldn’t quite name.
His gaze dropped to the center of my chest, concealed by my halter-neck shirt, before lifting back to my face, as though he truly saw me for the first time.
I wanted to look away. My instincts screamed at me to hide my trembling hands, but I held his gaze—held it for Liv, who stood beside him unseen, her breath caught as though she might break apart if I failed to carry her truth.
I crossed my arms and raised my brows at him, taking in the stunned expression on his face. “We have a lot to talk about. Are you going to invite us in?”
Jedd guided us down the long driveway and back toward the “pool house,” which was nothing like the word suggested, if we were being completely honest. A pool house, in my opinion, was a rickety shed with maybe an old foldout chair tossed inside, along with rusted pipes and withered pool noodles.
Jedd’s pool house was a two-story loft, its glass panels glinting in the afternoon sun as it overlooked a perfect rectangle of blue water rimmed by manicured hedges.
The whole place sat on a stretch of green that looked more like a golf course than someone’s backyard.
It was sleek, open plan, and outrageous. A staircase hugged one wall, leading up to a mezzanine bedroom that looked down over the living area. Sunlight cut sharp shapes across the polished concrete floors, catching on photo frames and chrome fixtures that gleamed like jewelry.