10. Eli
Eli
A month later, I’m still living with CJ. I don’t know how it happened.
It just… did. He never asked me to move in or even asked me to move out.
One day he simply cleared out the wardrobe, handed me a bundle of coat hangers, and said, “You’re going to need these,” before walking out of the room.
And that was it, no discussion, no big moment, just CJ quietly making space for me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I’m not complaining. CJ makes me feel safe. Seen.
A warmth settles low in my chest, unfamiliar and fragile. Safety still feels like something I’m borrowing, not something I’m allowed to keep.
He and Deck even gave me a job. I miss nursing, miss the hospital, but Campbell River has found ways to remind me who I am. The ache of missing it sits heavy beneath my ribs. But here, with them, I feel pieces of myself returning in ways I didn’t expect.
More than once I’ve stitched Deck back together after whatever ridiculous thing he’d gotten himself into. I still don’t know how he manages to collect injuries like souvenirs, and honestly, I don’t think I want to know.
A laugh almost escapes me, small and real. It feels good to be useful again, even if Deck’s chaos is the reason.
CJ now keeps a fully stocked trauma kit at the apartment, another at the office, and one in Deck’s truck.
I discovered that after Deck dragged me away from a café one afternoon, drove to a quiet spot by the wharf, then he climbed out, leaned against the truck, and casually announced,
“Need a few stitches. I’m in a hurry.”
Holy fuck.
What even is my life?
I’m still terrified Adrian will find me, the fear sitting under my skin like a bruise that never fades.
The nightmares haven’t stopped, leaving me waking up screaming in the dark.
Every time I spot a tall man with dark hair wearing a suit, my heart races.
My vision narrows and my breath stutters as the world tilts, pulling me back into memories I’m desperate to escape.
Cold sweat breaks across my skin until I’m lightheaded with panic. I hate it. I hate him.
Why didn’t I leave the first time he hit me?
Because I loved him.
I pull back the curtains and stare across the bay. The stillness outside doesn’t calm me. It only mirrors the heaviness pressing against my ribs.
The sky hangs low, almost giving a heavy feel to the day. And everything inside me seems to sink with it.
I don’t want to be an adult today. A hollow ache spreads through my chest. The day feels too big, too heavy, too close.
I want to crawl back into bed, disappear beneath the blankets, and pretend the world doesn’t exist.
Instead, I force myself into the shower. CJ’s apartment is always spotless. Military spotless. The order should feel suffocating, but it doesn’t. It feels steady. Predictable. Safe.
And somehow it smells like coffee, fresh bread, and cedar instead of bleach and fear.
If I leave a mug in the sink, nobody punches me.
If I leave a towel on the bathroom floor, nobody kicks me in the ribs.
My stomach tightens. The memories hit fast and sharp, leaving a cold ache behind.
CJ cooks because he genuinely enjoys it. According to him, feeding people is relaxing.
So I let him.
It still feels fragile, though. Like this life could shatter if I breathe too hard.
My chest tightens. I move carefully, afraid even the smallest misstep will break the quiet I’ve found.
Like one wrong move will bring back the fists… the boots… the fear, I remind myself I’m safe, and I say it over and over. Most days, I even believe it. That might be the scariest part. Believing things can stay good.
Hope feels dangerous. It’s something that could be ripped away without warning.
I arrive in the kitchen where CJ greets me with a smile.
“Good.” He glances up from his coffee. “You’re awake.”
“Okay?”
“Let’s go.”
My pulse jumps. His certainty steadies me and unsettles me at the same time.
“That suspiciously sounds like I don’t have a choice, CJ.”
He just looks at me. And that makes me feel uncomfortable. But there is no threat there, just steady certainty.
“Okay.”
CJ’s gaze holds for a second longer, then he turns toward the front door, grabbing our jackets and hats. Putting mine on, I follow him out of the door.
The wind hits me as it always does. Cold, clean. Sharp enough to make me pull the jacket tighter around me. CJ walks half a step ahead of me. Not rushing, just leading?
I stay half a step behind him with my shoulder slightly behind his. I don’t even choose the position anymore. My body does. Adrian insisted I stay half a step behind him, always where he could see me. Even now, my body slips into that position without thinking.
Shame burns low in my stomach. I hate how automatic it is.
CJ doesn’t comment, just continues walking down the footpath. The heaviness settles deeper with every step. By the time we’ve crossed two streets, getting out of bed already feels like a mistake.
CJ suddenly stops and turns slightly to look at me. “You’re quiet this morning.”
I let out a short breath of a laugh. “Depends on who I’m with.”
That earned me a frown. “What does that mean?”
I hesitate. I don’t actually know, so I just shrug. “Some people make noise easier.”
CJ doesn’t respond, but I feel it anyway. The silence has weight now. Had I said something that upset him? I continued to walk behind CJ and turn my head slightly to look over the water. It’s safer to look at that right now.
I step behind CJ further when someone brushes hard against my shoulder.
Too close.
Too fast.
Wrong.
My body reacts before my mind can.
I flinch. Damn it. My heart spikes painfully. The world narrows to a single point of fear.
Then warm fingers settle against my back. Gentle and familiar.
“You’re okay, Eli.”
CJ’s voice. I freeze.
Not because I’m afraid, because I’m not. My body doesn’t reject his touch. It doesn’t tense. It doesn’t expect pain. Instead, my pulse races for an entirely different reason.
My cock stirs in my jeans, causing air to catch in my lungs. Heat sits low in my stomach, and my mind rejects the thought of pulling away. So I don’t. I lean in a little more and breathe him in.
Oh god.
“Eli, you’re safe.” He says each word slowly, mistaking my reaction for panic.
“I’m okay,” I nod at him. He looks at me for a beat and steps back, opening the door. I step through it, still feeling his hand on my lower back.
We place our orders, then find a seat by the window. Conversation is about nothing important. Just what our days might look like. But I still feel off. My mood hasn’t really lifted nearly as much as I’d hoped, but there is one thing that refuses to leave my mind.
The feel of his hand resting on the small of my back. He touched me as if it wasn’t an obligation. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I want more. Not just his hand on my back. I want that hand everywhere.
I’m in so much trouble.
The thought terrifies me. Wanting someone has never been safe.
* * *
I see the PalMerc Security office building at the end of the street. Not far away, but close enough to see the staff arriving for work. CJ is still half a step in front of me. Hands in his pockets, head slightly down, keeping the wind off his face. Eyes always moving. Always watching.
And that’s when it hits me. Goosebumps ripple across my skin, sharp and sudden, and my head snaps up before I even understand why. My eyes search the crowd for something my body has already sensed.
Then I see him.
A man standing further up the sidewalk, still and deliberate, like he’s waiting for someone.
Something about him is off. The baseball cap pulled low, the sunglasses hiding his eyes even though the sky is nothing but cloud.
His hands stay buried in his pockets, shoulders tight, posture wrong for this place.
He looks like he doesn’t belong, and yet something about him feels familiar. Too familiar.
It’s the way he holds himself.
I can’t see the man’s face, so it can’t be Adrian. I’ve been gone close to three months. I covered my tracks. I vanished. I know I did. But my body doesn’t care about logic. It reacts first, decides for me.
I stop dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
People mutter as they move around me, annoyed, but I barely hear them.
My lungs forget how to work, my chest cinching tight enough to hurt.
Cold sweeps through me in a single, brutal wave.
My vision blurs at the edges, my heartbeat stumbles, and the world tilts like it’s slipping out from under me, yet my feet stay locked to the concrete. Fear not negotiating, just taking over.
CJ takes another step before realizing I’m no longer beside him. He turns back immediately, closing the distance in seconds. “What is it?”
I blink and look again for the man in the cap. He’s gone. Just like that. In a blink. A fucking blink. I tell myself it wasn’t him, that it couldn’t be him. I suck in another sharp cold breath. And another. I look at CJ for a heartbeat and shake my head, forcing a smile to my mouth. “It’s nothing.”
CJ doesn’t move, forcing people to move around him on the sidewalk.
I watch as his head moves from me as he scans our surroundings; His eyes sweep the street with practiced precision, checking every doorway, every parked car, every face, looking for whatever has me trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.
I grip my jacket to keep myself upright as his face turns back to me. His eyes find me, and he asks me, his voice low and uncertain, “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I nod too quickly.
CJ takes me in slowly. I can see he doesn’t believe a word I have said, but he lets out a small sigh and asks me quietly, “Eli, you okay?”
I hesitate, because no, I’m not, but I still answer with, “I’m fine”