CHAPTER THIRTY
The Ghost of Her
Brooks
I stand in the doorway of her bedroom, staring at the neatly made bed like it might still give up her ghost.
Ellie left four weeks ago. No goodbye. No note. Just… gone.
She slipped out before the sun came up, like she was never really here. Like everything we shared—the late-night talks, the porch kisses, the way her body melted into mine like it belonged there—was just a pause in her real life. A detour.
I keep wondering if I was just a layover between flights. Some soft place to land until the world started spinning again. Maybe I was never meant to be a chapter, just a line break. Still, I’d give anything to read it all over again.
I take a sip of cold coffee. It’s bitter and stale, but I don’t care.
I just keep staring at that damn bed. Every detail feels like a punch to the chest. The pillows she fluffed.
The throw blanket angled perfectly on the edge of the bed.
That vanilla scent that still lingers in the air like she might come walking through the door any second.
Memories crash in. Her skin. Her breathy moans. The way she buried her face in my chest like I was the safest place she’d ever known.
I told myself not to fall. Knew better than to believe she might stay. But damn it, I fell anyway.
She’s Elowen Donovan—smart, stubborn, beautiful in a way that makes your ribs ache. Of course, she was always going to leave. This town’s too small for someone like her.
Jasper’s pissed. Hasn’t said her name since the day she left. He thinks she abandoned us all over again. Maybe he’s right.
But I can’t be angry. Not really.
Because I saw the way she carried everything on her shoulders while she was here. Held this broken family together with shaking hands and still managed to smile. She gave us all the pieces of herself until there was nothing left to give.
And then… she packed what was left of her and disappeared.
And I let her.
Because I knew she was suffocating here.
I used to catch her standing on the porch at night, eyes fixed on the horizon like she could see the edge of the world from there. I should’ve asked what she was looking for. Maybe she would’ve told me she was already halfway gone.
I saw it before anyone else did. Hell, maybe I always saw it. That quiet unraveling behind her eyes. The way she smiled like she was holding her breath. The way her hands shook when no one was looking.
I can still see her crouched in front of her mom’s locked door, whispering through the wood, promising coffee and sunlight if she’d just open it. She never stopped trying, even when no one answered. That’s what kills me most. How she gave everything and still believed we were worth saving.
I shift my weight in the hallway as Jasper steps out of his room, his blond hair a flat mess like he hasn’t slept. He barely talks to me these days. He’s too pissed off, too hurt. Says I never should’ve ended up in bed with Ellie.
I wish I could say I agree with him. I don’t. I can’t undo any of it. And honestly? I wouldn’t. Not if it meant holding her for even one more night.
"Hey," I say, voice low.
Jasper narrows his eyes. "We need to get Mom out of the house today. I’m tired of Elowen thinking we’re all just stuck here while she’s off living her shiny life in LA."
"She doesn’t think that," I say quietly.
He scoffs, arms folding across his chest. "Still taking her side? Even after she left you without a word?"
She didn’t just leave me.
She left all of us.
But I can’t be angry. Not the way Jasper is. Not when I know what it took for her to stay as long as she did. She held it all together when the rest of us were falling apart. I remember her in that hospital room, curled up in a chair for hours while Jasper was off grabbing coffee with Wren.
"I’m not on anyone’s side," I say. "But how long was she supposed to stay, Jasp? She has a job. A life."
He glares. "Yeah. And she always leaves when things get too hard."
"Did you ask her to stay?"
His jaw flexes. "I shouldn’t have to."
I didn’t ask her to stay either.
Couldn’t.
God knows I wanted to. Wanted to grab her hand, pack a bag, and tell her I’d follow her wherever she was going. But someone has to hold the line here. Someone has to stay behind and keep the walls from caving in.
She doesn’t need me in LA.
She needs me here, making sure this place doesn’t fall apart so she can keep chasing her dreams without looking back.
"I’ve got a few errands this morning," I say as Jasper brushes past me in the hall. "Need anything from town?"
"A new life," he mutters without looking up.
I huff a breath and raise a brow. Don’t we all.
In the kitchen, I leave my coffee cup in the sink. I’ll do the dishes later. Maybe tonight, maybe not. The house is heavy with everything unspoken, and I just need to breathe.
I step out into the soft light of the morning, the air already thick with the summer heat. As I reach for the door handle on my truck, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
@theelowendonovan has posted a new video
I shouldn’t open it.
But I do.
Her face fills the screen. Wind-tousled hair pulled into a loose ponytail, a yoga mat slung under one arm as she walks some sunny LA street like it belongs to her. She smiles at the camera, but her eyes…they’re tired. Not broken. Just bruised in that quiet way only I’d notice.
The video cuts to her in class, mouthing this is harder than I thought mid-pose. Then she’s laughing softly on a café patio, recounting how sore she is, how good it feels to do something just for herself.
She looks different.
Not like she’s moved on.
But like she’s fighting her way back to herself.
The city light behind her turns her hair almost gold, and for a second I swear I can smell her vanilla shampoo, hear her laugh bouncing off these small-town walls. It hurts, but it’s the good kind of hurt. The kind that reminds you love didn’t die, it just changed shape.
And somehow… that makes me smile.
She’s trying.
Even though it aches something fierce, even though I miss her more than I’ll ever admit out loud, that’s enough for now.
Because I love her.
Enough to let her go.
I drive into town, the weight in my chest heavier than it’s been in days.
Loss changes you. Not all at once, but slowly.
Sort of like rust creeping up metal, eating through the parts you thought were strong.
Every loss hits harder than the last. Maybe it’s because each one reopens the old wounds beneath it, or maybe it’s because grief stacks itself like bricks, until you’re carrying something you can’t set down.
You lose. You ache. You try to heal.
Try being the key word.
But Elowen… she’s never lost anyone like this before.
Her first real heartbreak wasn’t a boy or a friend or a failed dream.
It was her dad. And I wonder if she’s let herself feel the full weight of that, or if she’s just surviving it.
Because that’s what most people do now. They bury the pain and keep moving.
Hell, I did that for years.
Still do.
And I don’t even know what I said to her after he died. I was in shock. Numb. I hate that she didn’t answer the phone that night, the way she didn’t look at it, the way I didn’t tell her to.
And underneath it all, the shame sits like a stone in my gut.
What if we had answered?
Would it have made a difference?
Would it have changed anything? Or just given us a few more seconds we still couldn’t hold onto?
Does it even matter now?
The bell above the bakery door jingles as I step inside. It smells like cinnamon and sugar and things I can’t quite hold onto anymore. The girl behind the counter greets me with the same sympathetic smile she’s been wearing for weeks.
"Same as yesterday?" she asks gently.
"Yeah," I murmur, pulling out my wallet. "Maybe add one of those lemon bars too. Mrs. Donovan used to like those."
She nods, boxing up the pastries without asking questions. That’s what I like about this place. Nobody pushes, nobody pries.
As I wait, my eyes land on a mother and daughter at a table by the window. The little girl’s braiding her mom’s hair while they laugh about something only they understand. My chest tightens.
That used to be Elowen and her mom, once upon a time.
I take the box, thank the girl, and step outside just as a breeze kicks up. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
@theelowendonovan has posted a new story
I don’t open it.
Not right now.
Maybe I stayed for her family. But damn if it doesn’t feel like I’m the one who got left behind.
I toss the bag of pastries onto the passenger seat and drag in a long breath, the kind that feels like it might collapse my chest from the inside out.
Everything’s a mess. Grief. Family. This town that hasn’t changed in decades.
But there’s one thing that’s stayed surprisingly… clear.
Elowen.
I drive slow, like I’m afraid to arrive at any decision too quickly. Some song hums low on the radio, lyrics about heartbreak and timing, but I don’t sing along. I just let the road carry me.
When I pull into the driveway of my old house, the one with its sagging roof and blistering paint, I just sit for a minute. It’s like the whole place exhales with me.
I still don’t know what to do with it.
Sell it?
Fix it up?
Move in?
Burn it down and start over?
It used to feel like a home full of dreams. Now, it’s just a question mark I keep driving past, hoping one day the answer will slap me across the face.
But not today.
Today, the only thing I’m sure of is the pastry bag in the passenger seat, still warm, still untouched. So I put the truck back in gear and head down the old road I could drive in my sleep.
The road curves through the pines, same ruts, same shadows. Every bend feels like I’m driving through the spaces she left behind. Half-faded ghosts of conversations and the echo of her laugh when she said my name.
The Donovan house rises up like a memory that hasn’t finished hurting yet. I park, boots crunching dry dirt as I climb the steps.
Inside, it’s quiet. Stale. Like time forgot to keep moving.
I set the pastry bag on the counter, wondering if it’s a peace offering. Maybe it is. Maybe it always has been.
A throat clears behind me.
I freeze.
Turn slowly.
And there she is.
Elowen. In the living room. Hair messy. Eyes red-rimmed. Like maybe she hasn’t slept either.
I blink once. Twice. Wonder if I'm dreaming.
"Hey," she says softly.
My breath catches.
I say the only thing I can manage.
"Hey."
But my heart?
It’s screaming.
Because she came back.
And I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do now.