Chapter 20
Ellery
Takinga deep breath to center myself, I walk up the steps to the farmhouse. My steps are sure and determined. A pretense meant to mask the nervous tension coursing through my body. Several days have passed since our confrontation. I still have no idea what I am walking into. No idea if Simon will even let me in the door.
But, I have to try.
Lena was right. Simon will forgive me. But I’m done waiting on the sidelines for him to do it on his own.
I want my brother back.
That means taking this fight to his doorstep.
Pressing my finger against the doorbell, I listen as the chime rings deep inside the house. Footsteps sound, faintly at first but grow louder until they stop right on the other side of the door. An eternity passes. Then, finally, the door opens and Simon appears.
“Hello, Simon.”
He stares down at me in surprise before his expression shutters. Part of me thinks he’s going to slam the door in my face, but I wait him out. Eventually, he sighs and opens the door further to let me in.
Not the warmest of invitations, but I’ll take it.
I brush past him and into the house. That familiar, comforting lavender scent fills my lungs and settles over me like a blanket. My gaze flickers to a photo of Mom and Dad on the wall. Reaching up, I gently press my fingers against the glass. I stare up into Mom’s eyes. Silently praying for answers.
Oh, Mom… I need you so much right now. I don’t think I have ever felt this alone before.
What would she think of the situation I’m in?
What would she tell me to do?
Fight for the ones you love, Elle-belle. The faint memory of those words comes, unbidden, and I can almost hear her voice in my head. Nothing is more important than love and family. Love gives you the wings to fly, but family ensures you will always have a soft place to land. Never take either for granted.
Simon steps up to my right. He is silent, looking at the same photo.
“I miss them,” I whisper.
The admission falls easily from my lips. I haven’t even figured out what I want to say to Simon. But, somehow, those words feel like a good start.
“Every day,” I continue. “Losing them hurt more than anything.” When I peek over at him, sorrow has colored his features. The same sorrow that is etched into my bones. “But the thought of losing you, too? I would never survive it.”
“Ellery…”
He falters and goes silent. My name hangs in the air between us.
“Can we just—can we talk, please?” I ask.
His jaw clenches. After a beat, he nods and I move into the living room. Curling up in one recliner, I wait for him to settle into the one across from mine. Then, we stare at each other while waiting for the other person to speak first. But I initiated this, so I should be the one to start.
“I’m sorry, Si.” I huff a humorless laugh. “God, what an understatement…”
Everything I want to say feels just out of my reach. Frustrated, I cover my face with my hands and take a deep, cleansing breath.
Then I try again.
“I hate this. But I don’t know how to fix what I broke.”
There is a subtle shift in the air, a charged moment before Simon stands and starts to walk away. My stomach plummets. But he only steps up to the large bay windows behind the couch. He stares silently at the setting sun while I watch the tension bunching across his shoulders.
“Help me understand, Elle.”
The anger in Simon’s voice seeps away, leaving only sadness. Confusion.
“You could have anyone. You’re beautiful, smart, kind, and funny… Why did it have to be Beckham? Why did you have to mess around with my best friend?”
“Because I love him.”
No hesitation in my voice. He deserves to know the truth, and I vowed to myself I would never lie to him again.
He shakes his head, not wanting to believe my words.
“Is that so hard to believe?” I ask him quietly. “That I love Beckham? Because I do. What happened between the two of us? It was never just messing around. At least not for me.”
Standing, I slowly make my way toward the couch until I am next to Simon. Even when I feel his gaze on me, I keep my own trained on the window. Rain has started to fall outside, the world awash in shifting shades of gray. It mirrors my inner turmoil.
I never intended to share what I say next. But Simon is here. He is finally listening. And, as hard as it may be for him to hear, I need to say my piece. So I do.
“I think I fell in love with Beckham that very first time we met. Back before I knew what love was.” I smile wistfully. “Do you remember how I would always follow you guys around? I swear, Mom and Dad must have heard me say a hundred times that I was going to marry Beckham James when I grew up.”
“You were just a kid, Elle,” Simon argued. “Kids say silly stuff like that all the time.”
“But I meant it. Every word. I wanted Beckham to be mine.” My laugh is pained. “He never would be mine, though. He was yours from the very beginning. Your best friend. Your brother. And, no matter how I felt, I never wanted to take that away from you.”
Simon tenses beside me.
Because didn’t I do just that? I stole Beckham when I swore not to. Now he is gone. He left, and Simon may never forgive me.
My gamble cost me everything I hold dear, for nothing.
“What does any of that have to do with now?”
His words are harsh, but I get the sense Simon doesn’t mean them to be cruel. He is just trying to make sense of the barrage of information I am throwing at him.
“Everything,” I say, trying my best to explain. “Because this summer, Beckham was right there, standing in front of me for the first time in years. It was like, suddenly he saw me—really saw me— and he liked me, and wanted me, and I just—I didn’t stand a chance.”
Simon doesn’t respond at first. He just lets the silence stretch between us. When I glance over, he is glaring at the window, a muscle in his jaw ticking almost violently. Every bit of his stance is meant to warn me away when all I want, all I need is for him to wrap me in one of his bear hugs and tell me everything is going to be okay.
My big brother. My rock. He is supposed to be strong. I need him to be strong because I’m splitting apart at the seams.
“I am so, so sorry.” Tears gather in my eyes. “Sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to stay away. Sorry that I hurt you. If you believe nothing else, please believe that.”
After a pregnant pause, he sighs. “I just… I wish it had been anyone else.”
“I know. For what it’s worth, I think he does, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Beckham. He chose you.”
The words have a bitter bite to them and I have a hard time getting them out. Simon looks at me, confused. Forcing me to explain.
“It’s over between us,” I whisper.
Simon should be happy. Instead, he just looks conflicted. Haggard.
“Shit, Elle,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
I almost think he means it.
“Spare me the false regret, big brother.” I huff and angrily swipe at my wet cheeks. “Just… please don’t throw away your friendship because of me. I need to know that this pain has a purpose.”
My heart hurts. My head hurts. The throbbing at my temples has spread to form a tight band of tension around the circumference of my head, from my forehead to the base of my skull.
But, I refuse to break down.
I have done far too much of that lately.
Simon watches me for a moment, seeing entirely too much.
Then, he sighs. “This whole situation is a mess, but… I never wanted you to get hurt. You know that, right?”
I nod. For all his faults, Simon has always been protective of me. He has always hated seeing me sad or in pain.
“Me getting hurt was always going to happen. One way or another. Either from a broken heart or by spending my life loving someone who could never know. Who would never love me back.” I curl into myself. “Honestly, I’m not sure which way is worse.”
Simon looks like he wants to say something, but he just shakes his head sadly.
I get it.
What more is there to say?
Slowly moving to the front door, I reach out and grasp the doorknob. But my body is frozen, hand locked around the cool metal. I can’t just leave things like this, unraveled at my feet.
Over my shoulder, I ask, “Hey, Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we…” I pause and take a steadying breath. “Are we okay?”
Somehow I gather the courage to look over my shoulder. Simon catches my gaze. His lips curl into a wistful smile. When he speaks, his words are a promise that has me clinging to hope.
“Yeah, pipsqueak. We’re okay.”