Chapter 9 Ellie
NINE
Ellie
I stared out the window as the car rolled into the neighborhood, my fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the strap of my bag.
I’d stood in front of sold-out crowds and smiled through interviews with strangers who wanted the gossip more than the music.
I’d answered questions about my ex, my image, my body, my music, and I’d done it all with a practiced ease I’d been perfecting since the extensive press training I did at seventeen.
But this? This was different.
No cameras. No stage. Just a ranch house full of my fake boyfriend’s family. That was scarier than the headlines.
It was also the first time in months I’d been somewhere without my security team. They’d pushed back, of course, until Sawyer stepped in—calm and confident, claiming he was already fulfilling those bodyguard duties he promised.
“Well, here we are.”
Rather than rushing, he turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat, as if the place held more than memories—like it held a piece of him too.
The ranch-style home sat against a backdrop of open sky. A wraparound porch, mismatched rocking chairs, Christmas lights draped in a way that didn’t try too hard—it looked...warm and lived in. Something out of a life I didn’t know how to imagine until now.
“This is where you grew up?” I asked.
“Yup.” He stretched, one hand behind his head. “Still crash here whenever I’m home. Well, not anymore, technically, since I just bought a place.”
He glanced at me shyly. “You wanna see it tomorrow? Before we head out?”
“I’d like that. Sounds like a good way to end the trip.”
He bumped my elbow with his. “Just warning you, it’s not glamorous. It’s been sitting empty for years. Needs a lot of work.”
I gave him a look. “I’m not here for the granite countertops.”
He grinned. “Good, because there are definitely none of those right now.” The smile lingered between us for a moment before he finally popped his door open. “Ready?”
No. “Yeah.”
I reached for the handle, but he touched my arm gently.
“Hold up.”
Before I could ask why, he hopped out. My brows knitted together as he jogged around the front of the car and opened my door, holding out a hand.
For some silly reason, my heart fluttered.
Harold never opened a door for me. Not once. Not even ironically. I used to joke he was allergic to chivalry. But this? This was sweet.
“What a gentleman.” I stepped out and took his hand. My skin tingled where our hands met as I held his gaze.
He winked. “For you, I try,” he said, winking. He had no business looking that good in a flannel and jeans.
He pulled me in like it wasn’t up for debate, his arm sliding around my waist. It was confident and easy, as if this was just something he got to do now. His fingers found the small of my back and traced lazy circles—subtle, comforting. Wildly distracting.
We walked towards the ranch house side by side. A chill ran down my spine, and I was unsure if it was the sharp December air or if it was him.
We stepped inside, and it was like being wrapped in a scrapbook of memories.
Wood-paneled walls were covered in framed photos: Sawyer as a little boy in a football uniform, another of him with a missing tooth holding a puppy, and one where he stood with his siblings, all wearing matching Christmas pajamas.
Suddenly, all conversations stopped. Every head turned.
It was as if someone had hit pause on a family sitcom. Sawyer didn’t miss a beat. He just smiled, as if he walked into rooms full of judgment every day and enjoyed it.
Gracie, the little girl I’d met at the concert, made a beeline for us. “Uncle Sawyer! You’re dating Ellie Miles?”
Her dad, Dorian, stood on the other side of the room, on crutches, and I pushed down the anxiety that longed to bubble up. I knew exactly how he had been injured back in San Francisco.
Sawyer peered down at her, then up at me. “Surprise!”
“Are you kidding me?” a woman I vaguely recognized blurted.
Sawyer shrugged, all innocent charm. “What can I say? Go big or go home.”
A man I didn’t recognize stepped forward. He wasn’t as tall as Sawyer, and his long, brown hair was pulled into a loose bun. “I think you did both, buddy.”
And just like that, we were in it. No going back. Just me, a fake boyfriend, a house full of his family.
I pasted on a smile like I’d done a thousand times before.
But this time, it wasn’t for the cameras.