Chapter 3Maisie
Chapter Three
Maisie
" I have to warn you," Elijah says over his shoulder while fishing his keys out of his pocket, "the house is kind of a mess."
I adjust my monogrammed duffel bag further up onto my shoulder and look back down the illuminated stone path leading up to his front door, over his perfectly manicured lawn where his shockingly orange Camaro sits in the driveway. The rest of the neighborhood is just as immaculate.
Which means his warning of a messy house falls under one of two categories. I'm going to be figuratively walking into the gates of hell, or he is trying to warn me about the odd pair of boxer briefs sitting on the bathroom floor.
"It's fine. I'm in the middle of redecorating. I'll be right at home."
Redecorating as in packing up all of my possessions to move into a smaller apartment since my ex left me high and dry with the final month’s rent.
He pushes the door open and steps aside, reaching for my luggage. I dodge, just like I did when he tried to grab it from the trunk and duck into the dimly lit house.
A flick of the light reveals a third option. He's barely unpacked.
There's a row of plastic bins lining the far end of the living room aside from the solitary couch and wide-screen TV hanging on the wall. Even more stacked waist high in the dining room leading into a large sparse kitchen.
"When did you move in?" I ask, watching him hang his keys on a little wooden plaque with a wolf's paw in it. A twin of the one Alexis gave me for Christmas.
“I think I closed on the house a little over four months ago, it was around the same time I took over the shop.” He points down the hall, "You can put your stuff in the back bedroom."
"Thanks for letting me crash here for the weekend.”
"No problem. It'll be just like old times." He gestures towards the kitchen, "You hungry? I was going to make something, and I’d love the company.”
“I could eat.” I say, “I’m just going to take a quick shower.”
Not entirely sure where that came from. I’m supposed to be keeping my distance, right? I let this man break my heart and change the trajectory of my life. He’s the reason I left Ghostlight Falls without as much of a goodbye.
My traitorous heart wants to give in and find out just how much of the old Elijah is still in there.
Is he the same boy who blew all of his money from working part-time at the auto shop on a vintage hunk of junk and then spent the entire summer of his junior year to get it up and running?
Does he still like to mix those chocolate-covered caramels in with his popcorn?
Does he still make killer cinnamon French toast?
I reach the bedroom at the end of the hall and toss my bag at the foot of the bed, at once taking in the carefully folded sheets and the abundance of furniture along with the lingering scent of his cologne and sweat. Of course, this is his room.
I’m too tired to protest and feign outrage with an offer to sleep on the couch. With the day I’ve had, I deserve a warm bed. We can fight over the couch tomorrow.
After my hot shower, I change into the baggy t-shirt and sleep shorts I packed for the weekend then follow the sound of Elijah’s voice out into the hall and towards the kitchen.
I find him propped up against the countertop, his cellphone to his ear, nodding along to whatever the person on the other side is saying. Until now I’ve only allowed myself to steal glances in his direction, but looking at him at this moment feels like I’m staring into the sun.
Most of the boyish charm that I remember has melted away, replaced with a sharp jaw, faint indentations around his mouth and tiny wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. His dark brown hair and five-o’clock shadow threaded with silver as a reminder of how much time had passed.
"Thanks again. Yeah, you too." He places the phone on the counter beside him, "Your car is at the shop, and I'll run the keys over in the morning so they can start working on it. Hopefully, it's something small so you'll be ready to go home on Monday."
“Great.”
I watch as he grabs his drink and lifts it to his mouth, wondering how in the hell I am going to survive this weekend being in such close quarters with him. This could easily end with me blowing up or blowing him. Fuck, I really probably should have put on a bra.
Elijah sputters, water spraying out of his mouth as he's thrown into a full-on coughing fit.
"Oh, my God." I rush over, patting his back as he takes shallow breaths, "What happened?"
He thumps his chest, side-eyeing me, "Just went down the wrong way." Clearing his throat, he gestures to the kitchen island, “I made grilled cheese. I even cut it in that weird way.”
That’s when I finally notice the two sandwiches in front of us, one cut straight down the middle, while the other is sliced from corner to corner, just how I like it. He even heated up a mug of tomato soup for me to dip it into.
“It’s practical.” I say, grabbing one half of my sandwich, and dunking it into the soup. “And there’s zero risk of having tomato soup smeared across your face before a very important meeting.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Unfortunately,” I glare at Elijah, then take a bite, and my eyes nearly roll back. The processed cheddar is still warm and gooey, and coupled with the rich and slightly sweet tomato soup, it tastes like heaven.
When I look up, Elijah is watching me, his eyes focused on my lips. I quickly cover my mouth with my hand, “What? Please don’t tell me there’s soup on my face?”
“Nothing, no, you’re soup free,” he laughs and pushes off of the countertop then grabs his sandwich, settling right beside me.
We stand there eating for a few minutes in awkward silence, though I can almost see the gears turning as he dips his half-sandwich into the soup. Being close to him is overwhelming, but it’s the quiet that makes it unbearable .
“So, how are things going with the shop?”
Elijah sets his plate down, raising an eyebrow, “Are we doing small talk now?”
I stare back, mouth open, feeling like I missed something crucial.
He continues, “Things are good. Axel and Rodd made it all look so easy, so that was a bit of a shock, but we’re managing. I’m lucky to have the crew that I have.”
“I can’t believe it. You’ve been all over the world, and with your experience, you could probably set up anywhere, but you came back.”
“I came home. There isn’t any place in the world that compares to Ghostlight Falls.”
Isn’t that what I’ve been wrestling with this whole time? Rejecting the comfort of my home because of the pain that’s associated with it. Pushing away one of the few people who has had my back most of my life because of one off-hand comment.
“I know what you mean.” I try to keep the words from sticking in my throat.
“Can I ask you something?”
His voice is so soft I almost think I’m imagining things until he’s staring down at me, erasing half of the distance between us.
“Yeah.” I blink, “Sure.”
“Why did you leave?”
The question settles over my shoulders like a shroud, the look in his eyes making empty promises that remind me of the way he’d look at me when we were younger.
He was always so interested in what I had to say, even when it was practically nonsense, but there’s something extra there that I can’t explain.
Something I don’t dare to put into words.
I laugh it off. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Leave the small town where you grew up?”
“This isn’t exactly a rom-com, Maisie.”
“Even if it were, that doesn’t automatically make you the hero, Elijah.” My voice cracks.
He quirks his brow and smiles at my admission.
It was never a secret. I’ve always had a horrible poker face, so he must have known exactly how I felt about him before Chet’s announcement all those years ago, but now he knows I’m still harboring those feelings.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“I wasn’t going to laugh,” He takes a step forward, gripping either side of the countertop, powerful arms caging me in.
It feels like Christmas and my birthday all rolled up in one, with every explicit fantasy I’ve ever had about him hanging unspoken in the air between us.
I’ve dreamed of this. Dreamed of him.
“Why have you been avoiding me all these years?”
My heart is doing its best to escape my ribs, but he’s right. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing, it’s time to rip off the bandage and let the wound heal properly, or I will continue to bleed all over myself and anyone else who gets close. Okay, maybe that’s not the perfect metaphor.
“Graduation,” I look down at the tattoos on his forearm, starting at the ones at his wrist. “Your parents were taking family pictures, and you had gone off with some of the guys. When I found you, Chet Powell was saying I had a crush on you. To which you responded, ‘Gross, that’s my little sister’s best friend. ’”
I look up at him, watching as he pieces things together, a smile on his face.
“Chet was a piece of shit. He was being wildly inappropriate.” He pauses, “I guess you missed the part where I broke his nose when he doubled down.”
“What?”
“I bruised my knuckles. Axel put me on detailing that week since I could barely hold a wrench, I was worried he’d send me home.” He watches me, “Is that what’s been bothering you?”
“Yes, no.” I’m not even sure anymore, but I do my best to untangle the thoughts in my head, “I just—I thought we were more. I thought we were friends.”
“Maisie,” his warm hands cup the side of my cheeks, “look at me. Please?”
I do as he says, finding that vulnerability has returned to his blue eyes as he searches my face.
“You were always one of my best friends, and I feel like I missed out on so much these last 18 years because I never told you that.”
“Elijah.”