21. Scarlet
TWENTY-ONE
SCARLET
Ellis follows me like he's scared my stalker will snatch me off the street if he allows so much as an inch between us.
It's total overkill, but at the same time, it absolutely makes me feel safer. Not that I’ll ever tell him that. His head’s already big enough.
I glance over at Fefe, who’s snoozing peacefully in her carrier. I’m trying to be calm, but after everything last night and today, it’s like someone put all of my worries under an amplifier.
What if Fefe is traumatized from last night? What if she doesn’t settle in well at Ellis’s?
My girl's... persnickety and isn't one to hide her displeasure. One time, I brought her to my mom’s, and she absolutely lost her shit. The last thing I want is for her antics to put Ellis out. He’s doing me a massive favor by letting me stay with him. Even if he literally demanded it.
Ugh, I know I should tell my mom about all of this, but she'll be horrified, and insist on coming home. Then again, if I tell her I’m staying with Ellis, she’ll be elated and it will more than likely cancel out her worry.
On second thought, I’ll wait until she’s home. I’d never forgive myself for ruining her trip.
More pressing is the whole Atlas situation. Ellis says he'll handle him, but how pathetic would that make me? The sentiment is nice—more than nice, really. If I'm being honest, it's downright swoony—but I need to fight my own battles.
At least the ones I can. I may be out of my league with my stalker, but I can handle my jackass of an ex any day.
But first I need to text his angel of a fiancée and let her know shit has officially hit the fan.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand why Atlas doesn’t like me.
Who wants their ex around all the time? I guess I thought he felt the same way I did about us—apathetic at best. And maybe he did, before Nora was taken.
Nora’s always been the peacekeeper of our group, and until recently, I thought her efforts were in vain. But here I am, essentially playing house with Ellis freaking Wilder. These are strange days, that’s for sure. Especially because I agree with Ellis—Atlas absolutely went too far.
I was ready for Ellis to side with Atlas. Hell, I was expecting him to. They're best friends after all. So, imagine my surprise when he jumped to my defense...
If I'm being honest, I'm pretty sure I have whiplash from how fast things have been changing between us.
In the span of a week, we’ve gone from being at each other’s throats, to cuddling when we sleep, sharing secrets, and Ellis being willing to literally put his life on the line for me.
My brain can hardly process it.
File all of this away for later, Scar, I think as the end of Ellis's long, tree-lined drive comes into the view.
I park in the same spot as last night, leaving room for his beast of a truck, which pulls in right behind me. “Welcome to your new home, Ms. Fluffington,” I murmur, as I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab her carrier before exiting my car.
“I'll get you a key made later today,” Ellis says, striding past me toward the front door.
“Thanks,” I whisper, suddenly shy.
“C'mon, I'll show you your room.”
“My room?” I rush to keep up with him. “You mean I’m not sleeping on the couch.”
“Nah. There're three bedrooms. One is a home gym and the other's a guest room.”
I don't even know why I'm surprised. His house is neat, tidy, and well-decorated. It's a far cry from the messy, man-cave, bachelor pad I expected it to be.
But I guess that's just Ellis... full of surprises. He’s kind of like an onion—layered.
I crack up at my own dumb analogy.
“What's so funny, Princess?”
“I was comparing you to Shrek in my head,” I blurt out before I can think better of it.
His lips kick up in a sexy little grin. “Shrek really?”
I shrug.
“I've always thought of myself as more of a Donkey kind of guy?”
“Why? Because you're an ass?”
“Oh, you're on a roll, aren't you?” He whistles low. “No, because he's fucking hilarious, loyal as hell, and pulled a literal fire breathing baddie for a wife.”
“Who knew you had such big Shrek opinions?”
He tsks. “Of course I do. I have big opinions on most shows and movies. Stick around long enough, and maybe I’ll share ‘em with you.”
His words zing through me, the thought of sticking around all too tempting. “So, about that guest room?”
He gives me a look like he knows exactly what I’m thinking before nodding toward the hall. “Last door on the left. C’mon.”
My heart does a funny little pitter patter in my chest as I follow him down the hall.
“Here we go.” He nudges open the door, and I gasp.
“It’s beautiful.” The walls are painted a soft purple-y gray, which perfectly complements the dark wood furniture.
The bed’s situated against the far wall, between two windows, and piled high with a fluffy white duvet and a whole pile of soft looking pillows.
“This room clearly has a woman’s touch.”
The tips of my ears burn as I wish I could hit rewind and swallow down those words. Way to sound desperate, Scarlet.
“Yeah, my mom.” Ellis nudges me with his elbow. “She was determined to have the perfect home away from home when she comes to visit.”
“Where does she live again?” I ask, desperate for a subject change, as I place Fefe’s carrier on the floor by the bed.
“She bought an RV when she retired, and she goes wherever the wind takes her.”
“Oh, that sounds nice,” I say, imagining the freedom that must come with it. “How cool to be able to explore at the drop of a hat.”
“Cool for her, stressful for me.”
“Why is that?” I ask, fighting to hide my amusement at his grumpy disposition.
“She doesn't have the best sense of personal safety. She’s parked in some really sketchy camps, sometimes not even in a camp, and don’t get me started on the friends she’s made along the way.
” He puts air quotes around friends. “But she really likes it, so I try to be happy and supportive.” He huffs out a laugh.
“I'm pretty sure she's got a boyfriend in every city she's visited.”
The cackle that escapes me is pitched high enough to shatter glass, but I’m too delighted to care. “Oh, she and my mom would get along great.”
“No. No way.” Ellis levels me with a serious stare. “They can never meet.”
“What?” I scrunch my nose. “Why not?”
“The two of them together would be nothing but trouble, Scarlet, and you know I'm right.”
I grin up at him mischievously. “Trouble's not always a bad thing.”
He snorts. “Their brand of trouble absolutely would be.”
“Maybe.” A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I imagine all of the trouble they’d get into together. Maybe Ellis is right—they should probably never meet.
“There's no maybe about it, Princess.” He gives me a look that says you know I’m right, but my lips are sealed. “Anyway, she had me decorate this room to her exact specifications so that she had somewhere, and I quote, ‘suitable to lay her head when she comes to visit.’”
“Your mom sounds like a firecracker,” I say, taking in the room with fresh eyes. “She has great taste though.”
Ellis offers me a wry smile. “I'll let her know you think so.”
“Does she know I'm staying here?”
He drags a hand through his hair and grimaces. “She doesn't even know about my new job.”
“Ellis, you can't keep stuff like that from your mother.”
He blinks down at me, judgment written clearly across his ruggedly handsome features. “Does your mom know you have a stalker?”
“No, but that's—”
“If you're gonna say different, I'm gonna go ahead and stop you. If anything, it's twenty times more important, because none of my updates affect my personal safety.”
“Technically me staying with you does...”
His face turns to stone, and I all but wither under his hard stare. “I know, truly I do. I plan on telling her as soon as she's back in the country. I don't want to ruin her vacation. She spent years saving for it and planning every little detail. I'd never forgive myself.”
He shakes his head in disbelief, but his eyes soften. “Well, I don't necessarily agree with it, but I get it.”
“What's one more secret between friends?”
His lips lift in a smile. “Is that what we are, Scarlet? Friends?”
“I'm not really sure what to call us,” I say, honestly. “Everything is so different now.”
“You're not wrong.”
I lick my lips and I don't miss the way he tracks the movement, his eyes flaring with heat. “What would you call us then?”
He thinks about it for a minute. “Roommates?”
Something like disappointment washes over me, but I refuse to let him see it. “Sure... roommates.” I force my lips up to a smile that doesn't feel quite right. “Sounds great.”
He sighs. “Something tells me I just fucked up, except I don't know what I did.”
“No, no,” I try to reassure him. “It's fine. You didn't do anything. I'm just being dumb.”
“First of all, even I know when a woman says she’s fine, it’s bullshit. Secondly, you're not being dumb. Your feelings aren't dumb. So cut that shit out and tell me what's wrong? What did I do?”
I rock back on my heels as I try to come up with a reasonable explanation. But Ellis’s perceptive ass sees right through me.
“This isn't gonna work, you staying here, if we can't talk to each other and be honest with each other.”
Fucking hell. I don’t have anywhere else to go... not until my mom’s home. “I'm just... I'm overwhelmed.” I twine my fingers together, fidgeting. “I'm confused. I feel like I don't even know left from right anymore, and—”
Ellis pivots suddenly, positioning himself behind me so that his chest presses into my back.
“What are you...”
He holds up his hands up in front of us with his thumb and index fingers out on each hand. “The one that makes an L is your left, Scarlet. The other one's your right.”
“Oh my God, you're insufferable,” I say through bouts of laughter. “I guess I'm just confused. And we don't have to label anything. Roommates... friends... whatever is fine. I just think—”
“You think it would be nice to know.” He states it so plainly, calmly even. How is he able to be calm when it feels like my insides are melting? I’m literally asking this man to define our relationship when we don’t even have one. He’s not my friend... and I’m pathetic for wishing he was.
I nod, feeling about two inches tall. “Yeah, that.”
“I’ll be honest, Scar. I... I don’t know what this is between us.
You drive me fucking nuts but I...” He drags a hand over his scruff lined jaw.
“I care about what happens to you. I care about your safety.
So, while I don't know if I'm ready to label anything between us, I’m willing to concede and call you my friend.”
It's stupid. Pathetic, really. But my insides light up like the Fourth of July. “Okay then, friend. Wanna tell me why Atlas got so weird about the French toast?”
All the humor leaves his face. “Fuck. Not really.”
“Friends don't keep secrets, Ellis,” I say in a singsong voice.
“Holy shit. I'm gonna regret this, aren't I?”
I shrug and give him my most innocent smile. “Maybe.” I shrug. “Maybe not. Only time will tell.”
“Oh, I don’t need time. I’m absolutely already regretting this.”
“First of all, that’s rude.” I cross my arms. “And don’t think for one minute you’re off the hook about a French toast explanation. In fact, you can tell me while you put Fefe’s cage back together.”
He hesitates as he reaches up and squeezes the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. Atlas was on a tear and blew it out of proportion.”
I can’t explain how, but I know he’s lying. “How can French toast be blown out of proportion?”
“Hell if I know. It’s something my dad taught me to make. Maybe he’s reading into it?”
I ponder that information, and while something still feels off, I get that Atlas’s relationship with his dad is beyond fucked up. So, I’ll let it go... for now. “Fair enough.”
“Tell you what, why don’t you take a minute and get settled in while I reassemble the cage. Sound good?”
“Um, sure.” I sit on the edge of the bed. What it really sounds like is he wants to get away from me, but I’m not going to press the issue. “Thanks, for you know, everything.”
He reaches out, as if he’s going to touch me, but then drops his hand. “Any time. Holler if you need me.”