Chapter 33 Still My Lil Mama
Still My Lil Mama
Eli
It’s Saturday night. The quiet before everything matters.
The house is still in a way it hasn’t been all week. No meetings. No interruptions. Just focus and the weight of tomorrow pressing in. The pitch. The gala. The culmination of months of work and years of intention.
Everything has moved so fast that I haven’t had a second to attend the side circus of the pitch fest. The ‘Ted Talk’ style forums, the meet and greets, the “state of the environment” panels where billionaires discuss climate change as if their tech empires and massive wealth accumulation haven’t impacted the planet.
I usually skip the drama and the peripheral events anyway. Being crammed into rooms full of people with nowhere to be sucks the life straight out of me. The noise, the forced smiles, the performative networking that masquerades as actual connection—it’s draining and unnecessary.
The gala and the pitch are both tomorrow, and I already know they’re going to cost me every ounce of social stamina I have. That’s more than enough "peopling" for one weekend. And honestly, Max is enough for me, too.
Max and Lara are out together doing the girly thing—shopping, hair, nails, whatever. I’m just grateful for the silence. Though if anyone asks if I miss her presence in every room, I’ll say no. But I do.
I pace the study, barefoot on warm wood, running the presentation through my head again.
Not the slides—the substance. The why. The impact.
The way our process reduces waste, restores land, reinvests in the environment instead of extracting from it.
The way this money wouldn’t just grow the company, but expand what we’re capable of giving back.
I’m proud. No matter what happens tomorrow.
Proud of the team.
Proud of the work.
Proud that Max stood beside me in this. Not as a consultant, not as an accessory, but as a partner.
My phone buzzes.
I glance down and smile before I fully open it.
A selfie. New hair. Soft waves framing her face, eyes bright, that familiar mischief right under the surface of her glasses.
Lil Mama: New hair, who dis?
I type back.
Me: Still my Lil Mama. That’s who.
I take a breath and decide the house is too quiet. It starts to press in right as I’m about to remind myself that, up until a week ago, I never minded the quiet. But before I can finish blaming the nymphomaniac nuisance for the changes in me, the doorbell rings.
I glance outside and see two vehicles in my driveway.
This is exactly the kind of run-in I’ve been dreading.
Unease settles low in my gut as I head for the door.
Vanessa is already there while Max pulls in behind her with Lara, fresh from their shopping trip. The timing couldn’t be worse if it were planned.
I want to be annoyed but the moment I open the door, that feeling dies.
Vanessa isn’t her usual sharp, composed self. Mascara streaks her face in uneven lines, her breathing shallow and frantic. Her hands are clenched in front of her.
These aren’t performative tears. Vanessa would never intentionally allow herself to look like this.
Max is walking up to the door fast, her body language set for a confrontation. I lift a hand without looking at her, a silent request for her to pause. She does.
Vanessa, Max, and I are all standing there in a jagged circle. While a part of me expects an all-out war to break out, the air between us feels heavy with something else. It feels like the calm before a different kind of storm. One where the weapons are dropped instead of drawn.
“Eli,” Vanessa begins and I brace for whatever is coming next. “I know you think I don’t care and that I’m heartless and—
I cut her off, not caring to recount all the fucked up things she’s done. I have one question and I need an answer immediately.
“Vanessa,” I say cautiously. “What’s happened to my brother?”
Max
The drive to the hospital is quiet, the silence pressing in on my ears. All I hear is the rush of traffic, the vibration of the road, and the occasional click of the turn signal as Eli navigates with rigid focus.
After Vanessa delivered the news, she rushed off to the hospital while I hauled my bags inside and got ready to follow with Eli.
I even offered to drive, hoping to take one thing off his plate, but he refused—nicely, but firmly.
I just wanted to be there for him, but every tense muscle in his body told me he was already checking out.
It’s a cold, hollow feeling, realizing the man you want to lean on, to lean against you, is pushing you away.
His hands stay locked on the wheel, jaw set so tight it looks like it might crack. He barely says a word the entire way, retreating inward mile by mile, pulling that familiar stoicism back around himself like armor.
I watch him from the passenger seat, wishing I knew how to reach him without making it worse.
Wishing I knew what he’s thinking, what he’s afraid of.
Earlier, he thanked me for being there. Now, it feels like he’s somewhere far away, bracing for impact.
I let him have the silence, even though it makes my chest ache.
Whatever this is, it’s his to face first and burden me with later.
By the time we pull into the hospital parking lot, my phone buzzes in my hand.
I barely glance at the screen before silencing it, tucking it away as we move toward the entrance.
The automatic doors slide open with a soft hiss, and the smell hits me immediately.
Antiseptic. Coffee. Something metallic underneath it all.
The floors gleam too brightly. The lights are unforgiving. Everything feels too much for the hour.
We walk side by side down the hallway, our footsteps echoing.
Eli doesn’t slow until we spot them. Elliot and Vanessa stand just outside a hospital room, close enough to the door that it feels like they’re guarding it.
Vanessa’s arms are wrapped tightly around herself, her face blotchy and tired.
Elliot looks wrecked, eyes red, shoulders slumped like the weight of the night has finally landed.
Eli stops short. For a beat, no one speaks.
Then he steps forward, his voice controlled in a way that tells me how much effort it takes to keep it that way.
“How is she?”
“We’re still waiting on the doctor,” Vanessa says.
“They think it’s her heart,” Elliott adds. “But they’re running tests.”
Eli frowns, confusion breaking through the rigid calm he’s been holding onto. “That doesn’t make sense. She’s the healthiest, most stubborn woman I know. Her heart should be the last thing giving her trouble.”
Elliott shrugs, helpless. “I said the same thing, bro.”
The word lands awkwardly between them. Bro. Casual. Familiar. Eli flinches just enough for me to notice, but he doesn’t comment on it. Doesn’t acknowledge it at all. Instead, his gaze drifts down the hallway until he spots the waiting area.
“Can we see her?” he asks.
“Not yet,” Elliott says. “But soon.”
Eli turns without another word and heads for the waiting room.
I reach for his hand on instinct, and my stomach drops when he pulls away.
My phone vibrates again, but I ignore it because—the fuck? Whatever it is can wait. We sit down, the space between us suddenly weightier, my face pulled into a frown I don’t bother hiding.
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure if this is how he handles stress when it hits, or if he just doesn’t want me to see him like this.
I text Lara to keep her in the loop. When she dropped me off at the house earlier, I don't think she spotted Vanessa’s car. When I finally sent the update, her reaction was instant and fierce—As if he were her own blood.
Lara: Drake and I are on our way. He doesn’t need to be alone with them.
I turn to Eli. “Can I get you anything?” I ask softly. “Coffee? Water?”
“I’m fine.” One phrase. Flat.
Great.
“I’m going to grab a coffee,” I say. “I’ll be back.”
He just nods.
Hiccup.
The hospital cafeteria is almost empty, quiet in a way that feels hollow. I order a coffee out of habit and step aside, phone in my hand, ready to phone a friend.
Timantha answers immediately. “Hey girl, what’s up?”
I'd usually call Eslin for this. However, Timantha's romantic history—falling for and marrying the exact kind of man she didn’t think she ever would—offers a unique, and right now, essential perspective.
“Eli’s shut down,” I say. “His mom is in the hospital and, for whatever reason, he’s locked me out. I don’t know how to reach him—or if trying would make it worse.”
She pauses, choosing her words. “You want advice, or do you want permission to trust your instincts?”
“Advice,” I say. “Please.”
“This isn’t something you fix,” she says. “And it’s not something you push through. He needs space to process what just happened. Not distance forever, just room. Let him come to you on his own terms.”
I lean against the counter, absorbing that.
“Stay available,” she adds. “But don’t force your way in. Right now, the strongest thing you can do is give him time.”
I close my eyes.
“Fine. I can do that,” I say. “But can I just say, his former partner is here? She's pregnant by his brother, and even though she looks a whole mess right now, I want to punch her in the face for causing my Bear so much stress.”
“Bear?” Timantha laughs. “You gave him a nickname? That’s adorable.”
“Don’t,” I warn. I know where this is going.
“What’s his nickname for you?” she presses.
“No, Tim. This is serious,” I say. “I like him.”
And I don’t want to hear her laugh at me when I tell her. She knows how much I detest being called anything little.
Her voice shifts immediately, losing the teasing edge. “Then be there for him in whatever way he allows. Or…”
She pauses.
“Or what?” I ask, stepping aside as an elderly couple shuffles past, fingers laced together.
“Or,” she says carefully, “you do what you promised. What you both promised. Maybe this sudden shift in him is for the best. So you can let it end the way you planned and walk away.”
I sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that. And I know that’s probably the most logical answer.”
Because Eli isn’t letting this go past the week. And letting himself need me now would mean shattering the agreement we made, leaving him completely open and vulnerable. It would be too heavy for something so temporary.
“Also,” she adds, “Reese has been trying to reach you. He’s not happy with Lexy right now.” Timantha laughs. “I think his feelings are hurt you didn’t leave him in charge. He says she’s getting in the way.”
I shake my head. “I’ll call him later. Now isn’t the time.”
“Okay,” she says gently. “Go be where you’re needed.”
I hang up and take a deep breath before heading back to the waiting room.
When I get back to the waiting area, Lara and Drake are already there and relief is the first thing I feel.
Then my phone buzzes again.
Now I feel panicked.
An alert.
Security flag.
My stomach drops.
I reach for my bag—and freeze.
My laptop isn’t there.
Shit!
I’ve been so unguarded lately that I’ve left it at Eli’s house the last few times I walked out the door. And I desperately need it now that someone is trying to access Timantha’s servers again.
Lara catches it immediately—whatever flashes across my face—because she straightens, and both Eli and Drake turn toward me.
“Max?” Lara calls gently. “Everything okay?”
“I need my laptop,” I say. “It’s at Eli’s place. And he won’t let me drive his truck and—” The words tumble out faster than I can organize them.
Hiccup.
Great. My nervous tick is officially back, too.
“I’ll drive,” Lara says, grabbing her coat. “Drake’s got Eli.”
She leans in and presses a quick kiss to Eli’s cheek. “Prayers for your mom, okay?”
He nods.
I hesitate, unsure of where I fit now that he’s pulled so far inward. The distance feels deliberate. Protective. I stand there awkwardly for a beat before settling on the simplest thing.
“I’ll…text you when we get there,” I say. “So you can unlock the door for me.”
Another nod.
Lara and I turn to leave.
“Max,” he calls and my heart leaps.
Hopeful.
I glance back. This time, he’s really looking at me. Something unspoken passes between us—heavy, unresolved.
“Thank you,” is all he says.
I nod once in return.
As we head for the door, one thought is louder than the alert still buzzing on my phone.
Peace didn’t make me careless.
It made me human again. And this—this not knowing what he’s thinking or where we land—being human is for the birds.