37. Ellison
“Mornin’, Max,” I say cheerfully as I push off the driver’s side door of his truck with a smile I hope is bright and shining and not at all like the nervous butterflies taking up residence in my belly.
He pauses midstride, his hand tightening around his coffee cup as he stares at me, the dark circles under his eyes mirroring my own.
“I’m not ready to talk to you,” he says not unkindly as he swallows hard and blinks at me.
“That’s all right,” I say even though I hate it. “I can wait but this can’t.” I thrust the navy blue hat at him that I dug out of the bottom of the closet. Crocheting with Nan had been one of my favorite things even though I’m still terrible at it.
There were a handful of blankets with uneven lines out there that I’d donated.
I’d been working on this hat when she’d passed away, and I’d never been able to finish it—just moved it with me here to Blackstone Falls.
“It’s hot out,” he says as he eyes the winter hat in his hand. I can’t guarantee it’ll fit right but also that’s not the point.
“You can never be too prepared,” I say with a smile. “Besides, did you know Nan taught me how to crochet?”
“Uh, yeah. I remember,” he says as his thumb moves back and forth over the soft weave. “Pretty sure I have a scarf that ought to match this.” His brow furrows, and if I wasn’t dodging a minefield, I would reach up and smooth the crease with my thumb then rub between his eyes hard enough for him to laugh and push me back a step.
“I’ve gotten better though, right?” We both look down at the hat and I fight my smile. “Maybe I’m still a little rusty.”
“I know what you’re doing,”—I open my mouth to speak but he holds up the hat to silence me—“but I’m not ready. I’m mad and I’m pissed…and I’m fuckin’ hurt, Ellison.”
I hate the way he uses my real name, and I hate the way his warm, brown eyes are pleading with me to just let it go.
“I’m so sorry, Max.”
“I don’t want to say something I can’t take back, Eddie.”
“Then you can listen, okay?” I say with more bravado than I feel. “Because I’m sorry I never told you that you’re my favorite part of every day. That I want to crawl inside you and feel your heartbeat sync with my own because being a part of you is all I’ll ever need. You’ve been my champion since the day we met, and you were right to call me out because I haven’t been yours, and I’m so damn sorry, baby.”
“El.” My name is a choked whisper, his fingers tight around his mug like he’s doing it so he won’t reach for me.
“Just tell me I can make it right—because my plan is epic,” I add and smile when his lips twitch. “And I need you to know there’s no good enough with us. You’re the only one I’ll ever want, Montana Greene. You’re the other half of my beating heart and a thousand times more patient with me than I deserve.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder. For you. For us.”
“I think Grandad was right. There’s a reason it took us so long to get here, and I promise I won’t mess it up, all right?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs as his expression softens.
“Good. You get one day.”
“What?”
“One. Day.” His Adam’s apple bobs as I start backing away. “One day and then I’m coming for you. And get ready, Max, because when I’m done there won’t be a single person within a fifty-mile radius who doesn’t know you’re mine.”
“That’s an awful big promise, Eddie,” he says evenly, the twitch of his lips his only giveaway. My heart swells in my chest even as I keep my expression light.
“No risk, no reward, and you, sir, are the ultimate reward.”
Winking, I don’t wait for his response, just turn and try to keep one foot moving in front of the other. He wanted time and he’s got it.
One day.
Now it’s time to put my plan in motion—just as soon as I make this phone call.
* * *
“You knew,”I say as I pace the hardwood floor of the cottage. The words are accusing because I already know the answer. I just need to hear her say it.
My mother scoffs. “Of course I knew. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t know each and every one of my husband’s indiscretions?”
“You weren’t together. You trapped him using me as an excuse.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“What about Montana? The farm?”
“Is there a point to this?” she asks, her tone bored, the sound of her manicured nails clicking against the phone like she has a million better things to do besides talk to her daughter.
Part of me isn’t surprised.
But the other is downright furious that I let myself be tied to them for so long—tied to her. I’ve been a puppet on a string my entire damn life but not anymore.
My father and I would survive this, but my relationship with my mother ends today.
I might not have had the words for it back then, but I knew something was wrong. They weren’t happy and loving and I knew I never wanted to be them.
But this…there are no words for this.
She’s a monster—diabolical—and in the end, we’ve all been casualties in her scheme to ensure she’d always have power and prestige.
“Did he love her?”
“Does it matter if he did? I took care of a problem, kept my family together, gave you the privileged life our name deserves.”
“I have a sister!” I bark into the phone, the plastic case digging into my hand the longer I talk to her.
“No, you do not.”
“Yes. I. Do.” I punctuate the words because if there’s anything that’s worth it in this world, it’s finding the people you love and love you in return.
“You’re being ridiculous. That woman?—”
“That woman doesn’t deserve your disdain. She is a victim and so is her daughter. You don’t get to judge them. Either of them.”
“You have no idea what I’ve done to keep this family together.”
“You did it for yourself and you did it for nothing.”
“Ellison!” Her voice is shrill but not quite panicked. She’s outraged I have the gall to talk to her like this, but she’s not heartbroken—not over me. “You can’t just throw your life away.” She seethes like it’s a personal affront that I don’t want to be in her world.
“My life is Montana Greene. My life is with him, and I would rather be poor and happy in Blackstone Falls with my best friend than—” My voice cracks and I have to swallow down the lump in my throat.
“Than what?”
“Than be like you.”
“I gave you everything.”
“No, you did everything for yourself. The only thing you ever did for me was to stay in Blackstone Falls so I’d have a home to come back to when I was finally free of you. Goodbye, Mother.”
Without waiting for a response, I push the end button on the screen and let my phone fall to the counter, the tears immediate as they roll down my cheeks. But I’m not crying over losing her.
I let the tears fall as I purge the most toxic relationship in my life. I cry for the little girl who’d never known love or affection and the woman who grew up to finally realize a person like that doesn’t deserve the title of mother.
The tears fall for me, for Arden and Monroe, and they even fall for my father who sacrificed decades of his life to a loveless and remarkably cruel marriage. Healing will take time, but I deserve the lightness in my heart—we all do.