Chapter 33 Ava #2
I smile, a little dazed, a little overwhelmed. It’s my shop, from the outside, bathed in the early morning light. The store hadn’t even opened yet in the picture. And there I am, standing in the window, caught in a quiet moment—a little trip back in time.
I’d wanted to buy it the day Nicoletta exhibited her pieces in my store. Something about that photo felt like hope, like possibility—the kind of hope I needed then. But before I could, an anonymous buyer swooped in and took it.
I never imagined it was Elijah.
My breath hitches as I step closer, tracing the edges of that frozen moment.
He bought it at a time when he didn’t think there was any hope for us—when we were just friends, and I was still so tangled in my past.
“Elijah...” I murmur, not even realizing I’d spoken.
He’s behind me in the doorway. Watching.
“I wanted you to have it,” he says quietly. “Even if you didn’t know it was yours yet.”
“You bought it before we were even... us.”
He nods, his gaze soft. “You loved that moment. I saw the way you looked at it every time you passed by. I just didn’t want someone else to take it from you.”
I turn toward him, heart stuttering. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it wasn’t about me. It was about you. And what made you feel something. And you weren't ready yet.”
I blink fast, fighting the pressure in my chest. My fingers brush the edge of the frame, but it’s not the photo that undoes me—it’s the thought behind it. The care. The way he saw me even before I was ready to be seen.
I step into him without a word, and he catches me like he always does—steady, strong, warm.
This isn’t just a home. This is safety. This is Elijah. This is love.
I continue my tour to his dresser. I brush my fingers over the edge of a photo of Elijah and two men—Sebastian and Gabriel. I’ve met them. A few times now. At Sunday dinners Elijah insists “aren’t a thing” even though they very much are.
I like them. A lot. Which is probably why, when the door opens and they walk in, I almost start crying.
“Ava,” Gabriel says first, sweeping me into a warm, familiar hug that smells like cinnamon and expensive moisturizer. “Oh sweetheart. When Elijah told us what happened…” His arms tighten around me. “I was two seconds from marching over there with a taser and a bottle of rosé.”
Sebastian steps in, less physical but no less present. His dark eyes scan me, then the room, then back to me. “You okay, cara mia?”
I nod, trying not to cry. “You didn’t have to come.”
“Are you kidding?” Gabriel scoffs, already unboxing pastries. “You’re basically our favorite. Sebastian actually smiled once after you made him those espresso cupcakes.”
Sebastian shrugs. “They were decent.”
“She added orange zest, bastardo, don’t pretend it didn’t change your life.”
I laugh. Just a little. But it feels real.
Elijah’s hand finds the small of my back. Warm. Anchoring.
“I’ve gotta step out,” he says, eyes on me. “Quick meeting with Kade. I wouldn’t leave you unless I knew who was staying with you.”
I glance at Sebastian and Gabriel, already making themselves comfortable. Gabriel’s fluffing a blanket on the couch like he lives here. Sebastian’s taken post by the window like a silent panther in cashmere. I nod. “Okay.” My voice small.
Elijah tips my chin up with two fingers. “You’ll be safe. You’re not alone. You hear me?”
I nod again, slower this time.
“I’ll be back before you miss me.”
I smirk faintly. “Not likely.”
He kisses my forehead and disappears into the night.
Gabriel tucks the blanket around me like I’m breakable. “You don’t have to talk,” he says gently. “But you can.”
Sebastian’s sitting nearby, reading, but I know he’s listening too. Always watching the windows. Watching me. I take a sip of tea and whisper, “I don’t think I realized how scared I was. Until I wasn’t alone.”
Gabriel sets down his mug and gives me a soft smile. “That’s the thing about people who grow up fighting their own battles, sweetheart. You forget what it’s like to have backup.”
I blink hard. Swallow the lump in my throat.
And for the first time in a long time, I let someone else hold the fear for me. Someone that isn't Elijah. The tea is lukewarm now, resting on my lap. The lights are low. The city outside Elijah’s windows glows soft and distant, like the world forgot how to be sharp for once.
Gabriel is beside me on the couch, legs tucked under him like a cat. He hasn’t pushed. Not once. But he’s still here.Sebastian is nearby—siting in one of the armchairs. Reading. Listening. Guarding in that quiet, Sebastian way.
I stare down at my bracelet, twisting the black leather gently around my wrist.
“It was supposed to be mine,” I whisper. “The store. It was my dream, one that I have built for myself, to be my place of peace. . I built it from nothing. For once in my life, I wanted something that didn’t belong to anyone else.”
Gabriel nods. “And now someone’s trying to take it from you.”
My throat tightens. “He didn’t even steal anything. Just broke it. Left a message. Like I’m not allowed to be safe.”
I hear my own voice getting smaller. I hate that. I want to be braver. But Gabriel doesn’t flinch. He just leans in slightly, his eyes warm and soft.
“You know, people always talk about survival like it’s this strong, powerful thing,” he says. “But sometimes survival just means still showing up after someone made you feel like you shouldn’t exist.”
I look at him. Really look. He’s so different from Elijah—softer in a way that doesn’t feel weaker. Like he knows exactly how it feels to be underestimated.
I find myself whispering, “My mom used to tell me no one would ever want me.”
Gabriel doesn’t speak. He just places his hand gently over mine.
“I believed her for a long time,” I continue. “And then I married someone who never even tried to prove her wrong.”
I don’t know why I’m saying this. I’ve never said it aloud. Only Elijah knows these things.
“We didn’t sleep together for the last two years of our marriage,” I say. “He just… stopped seeing me. And I let him. Because I thought that was the best I could hope for.”
Gabriel doesn’t squeeze my hand. He doesn’t rush in with platitudes. He just sits with it. With me.
“You know what I love about you, Ava?” he says finally.
My laugh is shaky. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“You still love things. Even after all of that. You still built a place full of light and books and weird pastries. You still let Elijah in. You’re still trying.”
I look at him and tears spill. Quietly. Silently. And I don’t feel embarrassed.
Because I think he gets it.
“You’re not broken,” Gabriel whispers. “You were just never given the room to be whole.”
From across the room, Sebastian closes his book. His voice, soft but serious:
“Elijah doesn’t let people into his life. Not really. But you? You’re in. And he’d burn the city to the ground before he let someone hurt you again.”