13. Julian
JULIAN
After months and months of awkward past entanglements for Ellie, I think her ex-husband, Miles, has finally caught on to the idea that she’s never going back to him.
It’s about time. Which, of course, is perfectly fine by me, because I am head over heels for her.
Crazy, right? How did my life get here? I blink, and there she is, the reason for this strange bliss, sprawled across my bed this morning, sleeping beside me, and I realize that even though we’ve known each other a shockingly short amount of time—mere weeks—there is no one else in the universe for me. She is everything.
I watch the slow rise and fall of her breath, and I marvel.
She’s tangled in my sheets but, somehow, this feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Is this what love is supposed to feel like?
It clings to me like the scent of her perfume, and I don’t want to wash it away.
Ellie twitches in her sleep, murmurs, and I press my lips together to stop from laughing.
She has this little wrinkle that appears between her eyebrows when she’s dreaming. I’ve noticed it before in the rare moments I’ve been awake before her. It’s like her mind is still working through problems even in sleep.
I should get up, make coffee, be productive. But I can’t bring myself to leave this moment. The morning light streams through my blinds, painting stripes across her bare shoulder. I trace one with my finger, so lightly I know she won’t wake.
We weren’t supposed to happen, Ellie and me. When I came to Lawson Ridge, love was the last thing on my mind, until I saw her in her garden next door.
“Mmm, what time is it?” Her voice is thick with sleep as she rolls toward me, eyes still closed.
“Early,” I whisper, brushing hair from her face. “Go back to sleep.”
Instead, she opens her eyes, those impossible eyes that see right through me. “You’re staring again.”
“Can you blame me?”
She smiles, and I feel that familiar tug in my chest. The one that started as a whisper and has grown into a shout. The one that says: this is it. This is what you’ve been waiting for .
“Any regrets?” I ask, because sometimes I still can’t believe this is real. That she chose me after everything.
She props herself up on an elbow. “About you? Well, maybe that we wasted so much time dancing around this.”
“Good. Because I’m all in, Ellie. You know that, right?”
“I know,” she says. “It’s just... sometimes I wonder if we’re moving too fast. If this is too good to be true.”
I understand her hesitation. After her marriage to Miles, trusting again can’t be easy. He promised her the world, then systematically dismantled hers piece by piece. I’ve heard the stories, seen the aftermath in the way she sometimes flinches when a door slams too loudly.
“Hey,” I say, pulling her closer. “We move at whatever pace feels right. There’s no rulebook here.”
The phone on my nightstand buzzes, breaking the moment. Ellie raises an eyebrow as I reach for it.
“Ignore it,” she suggests, her hand sliding down my chest.
I glance at the screen and freeze. Miles. Why would he be calling her?
Ellie notices my expression. “What is it?”
I hesitate, then show her the screen. Her face hardens instantly, all the softness of moments ago replaced by a mask I’ve come to recognize as her armor.
“Don’t answer it,” she says, her voice tight.
But we both know I have to.
I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
Ellie is already getting out of bed, wrapping herself in my discarded shirt from last night. Her movements are stiff, deliberate.
“You aren’t the person I want to talk to. Put Ellie on the phone.”
It’s not Miles. It’s Rick.
“Where is he?”
He tsks me. “Don’t be stupid like Miles and try to protect her. That little bitch put me in prison. I’ll go through you just as easily as I went through Miles. Your choice.”
“She’s not available,” I say, my voice steady. I watch Ellie freeze by the window, her back to me, shoulders tense.
“Wrong answer.” Rick’s voice is eerily calm. “I’ve waited over two years for this conversation. Two years in a cell thinking about what I’d say to her. Do to her.”
“The police would be interested to know you’re contacting her.”
He laughs, a sound that raises the hair on my arms. “Go ahead. Call them. I’ll be long gone by the time they trace this. But I’ll find her, eventually.”
Ellie turns, her face pale but determined. She holds out her hand for the phone. I shake my head, covering the microphone. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I do,” she whispers. “He won’t stop otherwise.”
I hand her the phone, but move closer, positioning myself where I can hear both sides.
“Hello, Rick.” Her voice is cool, detached.
“There she is.” His tone shifts, almost tender in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Did you miss me? I missed you. Thought about you every day.”
“What do you want?”
“Just to see you.”
Ellie’s knuckles turn white. “There were no ‘old times.’ You can’t accept boundaries and no means no. Not my fault you were also stealing and embezzling. Brought that on yourself.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?” His voice hardens. “That I’m just some obsessed stranger? We had something, Ellie. Before you decided to ruin my life.”
I can see her trembling now, but her voice remains steady. “You ruined your own life, Rick. Where’s Miles?”
“Miles is fine. For now.” Rick’s laugh is hollow, a sound that makes my blood run cold. “He’s taking a little nap. You know how he gets when he drinks too much.”
I watch Ellie’s face drain of color, her free hand reaching blindly for me. I take it, squeezing gently.
“What have you done?” she whispers.
“Nothing permanent. Yet.” There’s a rustling sound on the other end, then a groan. “Hear that? He’s waking up. Say hello, Miles.”
A muffled voice, slurred and disoriented, comes through the speaker. “Ellie? Don’t... don’t listen to him.”
“Shut up,” Rick snaps, and there’s a thud followed by Miles’s grunt of pain.
Ellie’s eyes meet mine, wide with panic. I mouth “trace call” and reach for my phone, dialing 911.
“What do you want, Rick?” Ellie asks again, her voice stronger now, buying time.
“I told you. I want to see you. Alone, of course. Your new boyfriend isn’t invited.”
“Leave him out of this.”
“That depends on you, doesn’t it? Meet me at the old boathouse. One hour. Come alone or Miles gets a swimming lesson.”
“Rick—”
“One hour, Ellie. And leave your phone at home. I’ll know if you bring it.”
The line goes dead.