Seventeen
“I grew up watching 'Superman.' As a child, when I first learned to dive into a swimming pool, I wasn't diving, I was flying, like Superman. I used to dream of rescuing a girl I had a crush on from a playground bully.”
~Tom Hiddleston
The flight home was long. Nadia couldn’t fall asleep, but Elliot had no problem drifting off. He looked awful, his bludgeoned face with two black eyes, a gash on his cheek, and a split lip. That was her fault.
Gazing at the tarmac, she waited for the captain’s instructions. Home. They were finally home.
Elliot shifted, drawing her attention. Brushing a hand over his nose, he winced and opened his eyes. “Did we land?”
“About a minute ago.” God, he looked terrible. “I think we should take you to a hospital before we go to your house. You might need stitches after all.”
He’d refused to delay their plans and see a doctor in Hungary, but now they were home and that lip still wasn’t healing.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Your lip—”
“I’ll be fine, Nadia. It’s not my first split lip.” He unbuckled his seatbelt before the light came on. “Did you sleep?”
He always seemed more concerned with her, so she lied. “A little.”
The lights came on and passengers busied themselves with collecting their personal belongings. The next hour was passed exiting the plane and airport and finding a cab. Elliot was silent most of the way.
When they entered the house, he rummaged through drawers until he found an old pair of glasses. “These will have to do.”
She hung back as he washed the lenses and checked his phone. He’d complained several times about how inconvenient it was to not be able to see.
“Tomorrow you can go to one of the one-hour places and get new glasses. I’ll buy them for you since this was my fault.”
He glanced over his shoulder, his darkened eyes narrowing. “I can buy my own glasses. The bank emailed us back.”
“I know you can, but I—”
“You’re not paying for my glasses, Nadia. That’s the end of it.” His tone left no room for argument and she let it go until he squinted through his outdated lenses at his email.
She frowned. “Leave it for tomorrow, Elliot. It’s the middle of the night.”
Not sparing her a glance, he punched something into his phone. “It’s morning there.”
“Elliot...” Her gratitude for all his help remained, but this was silly. He was hurt and they literally just walked through the door after a very long flight. He was neglecting his needs. “Why don’t you come upstairs and I’ll fix a bath for us. Let me wash your face and—”
“I’m not so injured I can’t wash my own face.”
Her spine buckled and her mouth snapped shut. He was taking her concern all wrong. “I just want to take care of you the way you’ve taken care of me.”
“That’s fine, but first I need to handle the situation with the bank in order to get the mortgage transferred to you.”
Her brow tightened. He was hyper-focused on this house situation but there was no rush.
Placing her hand on his sleeve, she waited for him to look at her.
“You’ve done so much to help me and my family, Elliot.
More than I’d ever be comfortable asking of someone.
I truly appreciate all your help, but right now I really need you to let me help you.
That’s what partnership means, we help each other. ”
“I don’t need help. I need to finish what I’ve started.
Men like Roland don’t lose quietly and I want to see this through before there are any more complications.
He might have me outmatched in a physical altercation, but this is how I win.
He can throw the last punch like the Neanderthal he is, but I always get the last word. ”
She frowned as he brought the phone to his ear, pulling away from her touch.
He stood and walked out of the room, leaving her staring after him.
His kind gesture now felt more like a personal vendetta.
She wondered how much it actually had to do with her.
He seemed more focused on evening the score between him and Roland when all she wanted to do was leave Roland and the memory of him back in Hungary to stay.
Carrying her luggage upstairs, she continued to scowl. What started out as a selfless gesture to help her family had turned into a pissing match between two men. She was rather tired of games.
She went to her room, supposing this was where he expected her to sleep while he wasted the next hour or so in his office. She watched the door, waiting for him to come to her, but he never did.
The following morning, confused and unsure of how she fit into his life at home, she dressed and decided to avoid all confrontations.
Elliot’s bedroom door was closed. She crept through his house trying to guess where he hid his umbrellas.
His home had so many doors, she’d forgotten which ones were private rooms and which were closets.
Turning the knob to a door on the second floor she peeked into the shadows, seeing the space was somewhat narrow and full of shelves. Maybe an umbrella would be in there. She felt for the light switch and stilled as the room illuminated with track lighting. It was much larger than she assumed.
Her gaze traveled along the custom shelving, noting all the various packages and strange items. Toys.
It was a room full of unopened toys. Were these things his company made?
Were they presents for little children? Maybe a donation he did during the holidays?
Regardless, there were no umbrellas on the neatly organized shelves and she suspected this was one of those doors she wasn’t meant to open.
Shutting out the light, she closed the door and continued her search.
The day was anything but sunny. Calling a cab, she took it directly into the city and was the first patron at the bank that morning. She smiled politely as the bank clerk waited for his computer to turn on, making small talk, and offering her coffee.
“No, thank you.”
The computer screen lit and he grinned in relief. “So, you want a credit card. That shouldn’t be an issue.”
Elliot said her credit score was low because she hadn’t established any. She wanted to remedy that as soon as possible. This seemed the place to start. “I’ve never had a credit card before. I hope I’m approved.”
The man, again, smiled. “I’m sure we can work something out. Where are you from?”
“Hungary.”
“Beautiful country.”
She perked up. “Have you been there?”
“Uh, no, but I’ve seen pictures. Beautiful people, too.” He winked.
From then on she only answered the pertinent questions regarding her account. By the time she left she had a little plastic card with her name on it and a five hundred dollar credit limit.
Elliot texted her, asking where she was, but she only told him she had to be in the studio early.
The last few days had been monumental and eye-opening, emotionally awakening parts of her soul she feared no man would ever find.
But in the last twenty-four hours, he’d reduced their beautiful association to a sort of business deal.
She didn’t want a financial adviser. She just wanted him.
It seemed the issues with the house were forming a barricade between them, siphoning all the intimacy away from their newborn relationship and stealing something from her she never had with anyone else.
She’d been with plenty of men, but she’d never fallen in love, never had a man tell her he loved her.
She thought they were close, but now he seemed miles away.
Where had her sweet man gone? This business side of Elliot was not the same person.
Maybe she was being overly sensitive. She appreciated how much he was laying on the line to help her family. Though it didn’t seem like much to him, her family didn’t have opportunities like the one he offered—at least not without rope-thick strings attached.
Maybe she was reading into things and tired from jet lag and being what they called a drama queen. She hated dating dilemmas and promised herself Elliot would be different. With him, she wanted honesty. No games.
Trying to do the mature thing, she told herself she was being dramatic and called him, sure that after she heard his voice she’d feel better and things would go back to the way they were.
“Nadia?”
“I miss you.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad you called.”
She smiled, but then frowned as he went on.
“I need your social security number.”
Had he even heard what she said? “What for?”
“I have someone on the other line. I’m ready when you are.”
She rattled off the numbers. “Elliot, I was thinking—”
“I have to go, Nadia. I’ll call you later.”
She frowned at her phone as the call ended. Baffled by his behavior, she growled and threw the phone into her bag. “And he thinks I’m bullheaded?”
At the studio, she paid a few bills. She needed to make more money if she ever wanted her independence back and looking over her enrollment lists for the fall, she’d be just making her rent and utilities, hardly anything left to save.
She drove to Reflections, Steve’s new gym. As expected, he was already there.
“Nadia,” he greeted, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Sorry. I just finished up a training session. I’m sweaty.”
“It’s okay.” Once they made it to his office in the back of his gym she sat in the chair across from his desk.
“How have you been?”
“I’m okay.” She folded her hands so she wouldn’t fidget. “I wanted to see if you’d be interested in teaching some self-defense classes at the studio.”
His expression was friendly but regretful. “I wish I could, but my roster’s packed. Did you check with the guys at my old gym? I might be able to reach out and find someone there for you.”
She trusted Steve and didn’t want to work with someone she didn’t know. “I don’t know.”
He eased back, his eyes appraising her. “Are you looking to make some extra money? I could put out a signup sheet for jazzercise.”