39. Matteo
Matteo
MATTEO
I’m heading out with Evie today but I’ll work on the code tomorrow after practice
ASHFORD
fucking dying to see the progress
MATTEO
almost there I promise
ASHFORD
you’re an absolute legend
MATTEO
says you
this was all you, Ashford. I’m just bringing it to life
ASHFORD
you and I both know you’ve created something life-changing. let yourself feel the pride in that because I sure as shit do
Ibarely slept a wink, broken bursts here and there and then I’m jerked awake, panicked that Evie left, only to find her nestled in my side, her mass of blonde waves cascading down my arm and her head lying on my chest. I suppose bawling your eyes out for hours will knock you out like that.
My mind, however, couldn’t shut off. I’ve combed through the past months—hell, even years—trying to pinpoint the exact moment something changed and I nailed it.
At least, I think I did.
Thanksgiving, last year. It was the last time anyone saw her.
After that, Evie withdrew. Excuses texted in group chats, Christmas missed only for her shitty ex to ditch her and go off on his own trip, phone calls dodged.
I didn’t see her again until I pulled into the garage and saw her taking a bat to Carter’s car.
I was there; my parents and I haven’t spent a holiday together since I was fourteen. The Ellingtons never voiced it but it was just expected of me to be with them. In every way that counts for a family, they are mine.
My biological parents didn’t even realize I had decided to cut off contact with them until seven months later, when they had called asking me to stand beside them as they accepted an award for their dedication and hard work in the medical field.
If only they had put a fraction of that dedication toward the child they so obviously never wanted, perhaps I would have accepted the invitation.
But looking back at that Thanksgiving weekend, nothing was out of the norm. Marcus and Serena were singing in the kitchen cooking, Evie, Caleb, and I set the table talking smack as usual—especially as the liquor started flowing.
Carter was meant to come that weekend and meet Serena and Marcus, but surprise, surprise, the man of the hour—that was sarcasm in case you missed the obvious—his flight was canceled.
Yet when I searched his flight later, low and behold, it wasn’t canceled; he just didn’t get on it. I never told Evie that tidbit. Why would I go out of my way to hurt her further?
She had been so disappointed. She tried to hide it, but it was obvious, to me at least. I had spent my entire life memorizing her micro-expressions that I knew when she cleared her throat and made her smile as wide as she could, it meant she was dying on the inside.
It took an immense amount of teasing and probing from Caleb and I to bring her out of her shell after that. Despite that hiccup, though, nothing happened.
There were no arguments, no lingering tension, no shady jabs or cold shoulders. It was a standard Thanksgiving at the Ellingtons filled with laughter, warmth, joy, and smiles.
So that begs the question, what happened after that Thanksgiving that changed the dynamic of a family that has been the strongest one standing for well over twenty years?
My thoughts float away temporarily as Evie sits up in my arms, tilting her head back and fluttering those thick black lashes up at me.
“Morning, Dove,” I whisper, my voice thick from lack of sleep.
The remnants of her crying are visible with her red and puffy eyes, but she’s still the most beautiful woman. A connection clicks into place as our gazes lock, a tunnel forging between our souls.
“Do I look like a raccoon?”
My lip twitches with the threat of a smile.
Taking in the smudge of black beneath her eyes, I murmur, “An adorable raccoon.”
Groaning, she drops her forehead to the crook of my neck, her words muffled. “Liar.”
“I mean it. Hand on heart, Evie, you’re the cutest raccoon to ever exist.”
Lifting her head, she narrows her eyes at me. “I’m afraid to look in the mirror now.”
“Why don’t you go brave your reflection and see that I’m right while I make us coffee?” I suggest.
She lights up at the mention of coffee. “With artwork?”
“Have I ever missed a day?”
Ever since that dark week where she didn’t get out of bed and the only thing that pulled even a hint of life from her was the coffee I made with the small heart on top, I’ve made coffee for her every morning.
“Not one,” she breathes, pushing herself up before making her way to the door. Evie pauses, looking at me questionably over her shoulder. “How do you know so many latte art designs, anyway?”
“I don’t,” I say simply, loving the frown she sends my way. “I watch tutorials.”
“Every day?”
“Every day,” I confirm.
Evie’s voice is small and yet full of such awe my heart skips a beat. “Just for me?”
“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
Her breath hitches. The severity of my words put a little spark back in her gaze, but not nearly enough.
Rising from her bed, both of us still in our clothes from yesterday, I gently tuck a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and murmur, “Let’s freshen up. I’ll get the coffees, you can get the bags ready.”
“Bags?” she asks, confusion swirling in her blues.
“Paddleboarding, remember?”
Her shoulders droop. “Are you sure that’s still a good idea?”
“I think it’s the best idea. You could use some joy today.” Leaning forward, I place a featherlight kiss against her forehead. “And every day that follows.”
With my latte secret out, I no longer have to hide an earphone in my ear to conceal the voiceover of the tutorial. Still, I keep the volume low.
Today’s video is trying to teach me how to create a polar bear with the milk froth.
Does mine look like a polar bear? Questionable.
But like the koala bear I attempted, Evie doesn’t care if it looks like an animal or a blob. By the way her eyes light up, she adores the attempt all the same.
Her patter of feet make their way down the stairs. Quickly pocketing my phone and lifting the mug of coffee, I turn to Evie.
All traces of last night have been wiped away. The mascara streaks, red-rimmed eyes, and tinted nose are gone. If I hadn’t been here to witness the devastation she went through, I would have thought she had a night like any other.
Sidling into the kitchen, she leans against the island, greedily holding out her hands and making the give-me motion.
“Let me see,” she sing-songs.
I hand over the cup of coffee. As I predicted, and have anxiously looked forward to every morning, Evie’s face ignites with happiness as she twists her head this way and that, the bridge of her nose scrunching as she tries to guess what the art is.
This is why I do it.
To see her spark again.
Evie suddenly snaps her head up with wide eyes. “A bear?”
I look down at the latte art, my lips pursing. “How the hell did you know? It’s meant to be a polar bear.”
She cackles with laughter. “I’m on a roll recently.” She points with the tip of her nail. “I can tell by the neck.”
“The neck?”
“The neck, Valenti. Always the neck.”
I have no idea if we’re still talking about polar bears, but I nod along like I know what she’s saying because truthfully, I hate when she isn’t talking.
Peering past her shoulder, I spot her bag on the floor. “All packed and ready to go?”
“Yeah, we’re not hiking so not a lot needed this time.”
I scoop the bag up, handing Evie the travel mug lid and opening the front door for her. “After you, gorgeous.”
Her cheeks flame, pupils dilating.
“Not holding yourself back anymore, it seems,” she murmurs as she passes me.
The door shuts behind me as I confirm, “You’d have to put me in a straitjacket to keep me at bay, Dove.” Pausing, I put the bags down. “On second thought, I am holding back.”
At my words, Evie turns to me, her head cocked. “How are you holding back—”
She’s cut off as I step into her space, cup her cheeks gently, and kiss her like she’s the only way I can receive oxygen.
Evie moans at the sudden movement, the sound sending a current of energy down my spine and making me shiver. Pulling back, my lips twitch as I take her in, with her messy blonde ponytail, tight black gym shorts, and matching bra.
“Now I’m no longer holding back,” I drawl gruffly.
“Good choice on Evergreen,” Evie says from where she sits on top of my board.
Looking around the lake, a sense of peace and serenity fills my heart at the near-empty water. “Figured this one would be best during the week.”
While I paddle, Evie relaxes, her knees hugged close to her chest, golden locks cascading down her back, head tipped toward the sky, eyes closed as the sun shines along her tan skin.
We paddled on our own respective boards for a loop, then I beckoned her on mine, leaving her board on the shore. I haven’t gone back for it since.
Growing up, I always found any excuse necessary for us to share a board, craving just a brush of a hand, an arm, or even a thigh whenever I could.
Now as I reach forward, stroking my fingers through her golden locks I don’t have to come up with an excuse.
It’s a heady feeling.
Her eyes flutter open to find me not looking at the lake but at her. The slow smile I’m greeted with makes my stomach flip.
Turning, she rises slowly to her feet, all the while never taking her eyes off me. Nothing changes within her expression, but I know her. It’s why when she steps forward, sliding her hands over my stomach and up my chest, I should be prepared, but I’m not.
I don’t think I ever will be.
Her touch sends goosebumps running across my skin. I drop my head for the woman who has my heart, meeting her halfway.
Again, though, I know her.
But at least her lips brush mine before she pushes me.
Smirking, I fall back into the water, the cold soothing the heat of my sizzling skin. Evie’s cackle of laughter is music to my ears as I reemerge, shaking the water from my hair with a flick.
“That’s payback for all the times you pushed me off the board,” she says between gasps.
Slowly swimming toward her, I drawl, “Do you want to know why I always pushed you off?”