Chapter Twenty-Five — You Still Want Me #3
Elliot opened his eyes. Ronan looked at him.
Nothing had been fixed. That needed to remain clear.
Mason was still dead. Lucas was still dead.
Tyler. Grace. Benjamin. Five people did not disappear because Ronan wanted Elliot.
Nathan remained in custody. Saint remained somewhere outside the room.
Detective Vance had enough loose threads to eventually tie something together.
Morning would come. Consequences with it.
But Ronan had learned something tonight that he could no longer lie about.
He wanted Elliot with the truth included.
That did not mean accepting what he had done.
It did not mean forgiving him. It certainly did not mean approving.
It meant the desire had survived knowledge.
Maybe love had too. That was much more frightening.
Elliot turned onto his side.
“Do you regret it?”
Ronan knew what he meant.
“No.”
Relief crossed Elliot’s face.
“Don’t.”
It disappeared.
“Sorry.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t be relieved.”
“Then what?”
“Don’t turn this into forgiveness.”
Elliot nodded.
“I won’t.”
“Because I’m still angry.”
“I know.”
“I might stay angry.”
“I know.”
“I might still tell Vance.”
A pause. Then:
“I know.”
Ronan studied him.
“You mean that?”
“No.”
The answer surprised him. Elliot swallowed.
“I mean I know you might. I’m not okay with it.”
“Better.”
“I’d probably beg.”
“You already told me.”
“I’d be good at it.”
Ronan snorted.
“I seriously doubt that.”
“You underestimate me.”
“Unfortunately, I think I’ve been doing that for a while.”
Elliot’s smile faded. Ronan immediately regretted the sentence. Not because it was false. Because everything truthful hurt now. Elliot moved closer. Stopped.
“Can I?”
Ronan looked at the space between them. Then opened his arm.
Elliot came immediately. Head against Ronan’s chest. Arm around his waist. Careful of the stitches.
Ronan rested his hand in Elliot’s hair. This position.
The photograph. Someone had watched them like this.
Listened to them. Catalogued them. Turned private moments into evidence. Ronan’s jaw tightened. Elliot felt it.
“What?”
“Saint.”
Elliot went still.
“He heard us.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe watched.”
“Yes.”
Ronan looked toward the smoke detector now sitting dismantled inside an evidence bag downstairs.
“I want him gone.”
Elliot lifted his head. The look in his eyes made Ronan immediately realize how that sounded.
“Not dead.”
Elliot sighed.
“Fine.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You need to specify these things now.”
“That is deeply concerning.”
Elliot settled against him again. Ronan stared at the ceiling.
“Nathan said you did it for him.”
“I didn’t.”
“I believe you.”
Elliot went quiet. Ronan continued.
“But somebody wanted you to.”
“Yes.”
“And now they think I’ll do something for you.”
“Yes.”
Ronan looked down.
“What?”
Elliot hesitated.
“Nothing.”
“Banned.”
A tiny smile. Then Elliot said:
“I don’t want you becoming me.”
Ronan stared. The words were quiet. Serious.
“You think that’s what Saint wants.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Nathan couldn't make me belong to him.”
Ronan’s fingers stopped in Elliot’s hair.
“So?”
Elliot looked up.
“So maybe making you become something because of me is the next best thing.”
Cold moved through Ronan. He understood. Corruption as proof of possession. Not getting Elliot. Changing what Elliot loved. Ronan looked toward the dark window.
“Then we don’t give him that.”
Elliot stared.
“We?”
Ronan groaned.
“Don’t.”
“You keep saying it.”
“I know.”
“You keep choosing it.”
Ronan looked down at him. There was that dangerous happiness again. Ronan touched the fresh bite at his shoulder. Then caught Elliot’s jaw.
“Listen carefully.”
Elliot did.
“I am not becoming you.”
“I don't want you to.”
“I am not killing anybody for you.”
“Good.”
“I’m not letting Saint turn whatever this is into his fucking story.”
Elliot’s expression hardened.
“Good.”
“And if you ever decide that protecting me means putting that mask on again without telling me…”
Ronan tightened his grip slightly.
“I’ll turn you in myself.”
Elliot stared. Then nodded.
“Okay.”
Ronan released him. Elliot settled back against his chest. Several minutes passed. Ronan almost fell asleep. Then Elliot whispered:
“Ronan?”
“What?”
“If you ever do turn me in…”
Ronan waited. Elliot’s voice came quieter.
“Visit me.”
Ronan’s chest tightened. He looked down.
Elliot’s eyes were closed. No manipulation that Ronan could see.
No smile. Just fear. Ronan could have promised.
He didn’t. Instead he ran his fingers through Elliot’s hair.
Once. Twice. Again. Elliot understood the non-answer.
Neither spoke after that. Outside, the patrol cruiser remained beneath the streetlight.
Nathan Reed sat somewhere in police custody.
Detective Vance was probably awake. Saint was still out there.
Five people were still dead. None of it had changed.
But Ronan looked at the man curled against his chest and finally admitted the one truth he had been avoiding since Elliot opened the black container beneath the stairs.
The murders might change whether Ronan could forgive him.
They might change whether he could protect him.
They might eventually change whether they had any future at all. But they had not changed whether Ronan loved him. That was the part he didn't know how to survive.