18. CJ
CJ
I catch Eli before he hits the floor.
One second he’s standing beside me, staring at the phone. The next, his knees buckle. I drop with him, one arm slinging around his shoulders and the other cradling his head before it hits the tiles. Fear hits me fast and brutal, tightening every muscle in my body.
“Eli.” I give him a gentle shake, but he doesn’t answer. His eyes remain closed, and I know immediately where he’s gone.
My Baby Boy has disappeared into that place inside his head, the one that keeps him safe when reality becomes too much to bear. I hate that he still has to go there, even now, even with me.
He can hide there for as long as he needs to, because I’ll deal with the monsters waiting out here. Heat burns low in my chest as I suck air into my lungs, forcing them to work. I won’t let anything touch him again. Not ever.
I grab my phone and pull up Deck’s number. I’ve seen the photos; I saw the message. And then I saw the sheer terror on Eli’s face, an image that sears itself permanently into my mind. His fear is something I’ll never forget.
Adrian.
My jaw clenches as fury sits heavy, sharp, and ready to break loose: a rage directed entirely at Adrian, the man who still holds this ghost of a grip on Eli, the man who can send two words and tear months of healing apart.
Found you.
The words echo in my head. Had this been the first message? Or were there more? The thought tightens my jaw further.
The line connects.
“Yoda,” Deck answers. “What’s up?”
“I need you at the office. Now.”
Silence settles between us, carrying no questions, only immediate understanding.
“We’ll be there in five,” Deck says, and ends the call.
Relief flickers through me. If anyone can help me hold the line, it’s Deck.
I sit on the floor with Eli draped across my lap. I slide my hand through his hair and brush my thumb over his cheek. His face is peaceful, almost too peaceful. It’s the kind of peace that comes from shutting down, not resting. It makes my chest ache for him.
Since the night he told me everything, Eli has still carried that weight alone. Even when he talks, the worst parts stay buried. But he was getting better, and this morning proved it: hearing him through that door, hearing my name fall from his lips.
He still thinks he has to carry it alone, but that stops here. It stops now. I’ve been involved since I pulled him out of that car, whether he realized it or not. I’m done letting him drown in silence.
Eli isn’t going back to that life, and Adrian doesn’t get another chance to touch him.
Four minutes later, Deck’s truck pulls into the parking lot with Finn in the passenger seat. Neither of them wastes time.
By then, Eli is awake, but barely. He’s silent, completely withdrawn into himself.
I slide one arm beneath his knees and lift him into my arms, carrying him outside. I feel his body curl into my chest immediately, the quiet trust in that small movement hitting me hard.
Deck opens the rear door before I even reach the truck. I climb in with Eli still in my arms, not bothering with the seatbelt yet. Right now, I need to feel him breathing, needing the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine.
The truck pulls away, rain streaking across the windows as we cut through the city toward home.
Eli doesn’t speak. He just stares out the glass like he expects Adrian to appear at any moment.
A cold ache settles beneath my ribs. I tighten my hold, hoping he feels it, and his fingers bunch in my shirt: just enough to tell me he knows I’m here.
Finn is unusually quiet. The only thing he says is a soft, “Hey, Eli,” when we climb in. Now he just keeps glancing between us, worried for Eli.
I don’t know what to say. All I know is I want Adrian Blackwell in front of me long enough to make him understand exactly what he’s done, and make him pay for it, piece by fucking piece.
The thought is dark enough that I force it down. One problem at a time. Protect Eli first, then I’ll deal with everything else.
The truck pulls into the apartment parking lot. Before Deck has fully stopped, Finn is out and racing around the side, but Deck reaches my door first and pulls it open.
“You got him?” Deck asks quietly.
I nod.
I step out with Eli still pressed against my chest, his face tucked into my neck, his breath warm against my skin. When I start walking, his arms tighten like he’s afraid I’ll put him down, so I hold him closer. Letting go would break him, and I won’t ever let him go. Not tonight. Not ever.
Inside, I carry him straight to the couch while Deck and Finn disappear into the kitchen. They move quietly, with no wasted words. A few minutes later, a bowl of chicken soup, a grilled cheese, and drinks sit on the coffee table.
Eli hasn’t moved from my lap. He holds me tight, letting out a small noise now and then as he pulls himself closer.
“Baby Boy,” I say quietly into his ear, “do you want to eat something?”
His eyes flick to the food for a second before he lets out a small whimper, shutting them again and shaking his head. He sinks deeper into my chest. The sound guts me. I pull him tighter, wishing I could physically pull the fear out of him.
I can feel him retreating, folding inward, disappearing again.
I meet Deck’s eyes over Eli’s head, noticing Finn hovering nearby, looking lost.
“Sit, Finn,” I say, nodding to the space beside Eli’s head. Finn’s gentleness has always been something Eli responds to.
Finn doesn’t argue. He sits carefully and rests a hand on Eli’s head, moving slowly and murmuring something too quiet for me to hear. Eli doesn’t respond, but I notice when his breathing starts to even out, feeling the tension begin to drain from him, little by little.
Time slips by and the soup goes cold.
Eli has fallen asleep, sprawled across my lap with his face turned toward me and his mouth slightly open.
Every so often, a quiet snore slips out.
His skin is warm. The sight of him safe in my arms steadies something inside me.
I hold him across my lap, gently rocking him while brushing my thumb along his cheekbone, just watching him.
Eventually, I look up at Deck. “We need to talk.” My voice is low, careful not to wake him.
Deck nods. “Let’s move him to the couch. Finn, stay with him.”
Finn gives Deck a look like he’s an idiot. “Like I’m going anywhere,” he mutters. “I’m staying right here. Eli and I are snuggling. You two go do your serious business thing.”
We shift Eli onto the couch, and he doesn’t wake. Finn immediately kicks off his shoes and stretches out beside him, wrapping an arm around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Within minutes, he’s asleep too.
* * *
“Come on,” Deck says. “Time to talk.”
We step onto the balcony where the waterfront lights flicker below us in the dark. Deck’s fingers tighten on the railing.
“It’s safe to assume it’s Adrian?”
“Yeah.” I nod. The next words stick in my throat. “I’m going to tell you everything. What I’ve told you before is only the tip of it, Deck. It’s worse than we thought.”
He nods and waits for me to continue.
“Eli got a message.” I stare at my hands. “Photos of us.”
Deck raises a brow.
“Kissing.”
Deck stays quiet.
Then, I tell him everything. I tell him because I know Eli won’t be able to; hell, he barely got through telling me.
I tell Deck about the abuse, the manipulation, the beatings, the control, the scars, the rapes.
I tell him about Adrian breaking Eli down piece by piece.
About Ree and Marge, and what they did to get him out.
About the nightmares, the guilt, and the way Eli still carries it as if it belongs to him.
When I stop, silence settles heavy between us. Then Deck turns away so fast I flinch.
His silence is louder than shouting. I know exactly what’s breaking inside him.
He walks to the far end of the balcony and stops, staring up at the dark sky. His shoulders lock tight, and his fists clench. Then he exhales something sharp and broken, bending forward slightly to brace his hands on his knees, sucking uneven air into his lungs.
I leave him to process everything while I look out over the water. I let him breathe. Rage like that needs space before it finds direction.
Deck straightens again, and I’ve seen that posture before. It isn’t sorrow holding him upright; it’s fury: quiet, controlled, and already halfway to war.
He turns back to me. “That man is dead,” his voice is low and full of fury. “Dead, CJ. Not injured. Fucking dead.”
The certainty in his voice matches the fire burning in my own chest. I nod once. “Agreed.”
We stand there a moment longer, joined as brothers, as family.
Finally, I say, “He can’t be alone anymore. Not ever. I need to keep him safe.” I glance toward the apartment. “I can’t lose him.”
The truth hits me hard. Saying it out loud feels like stepping off a cliff.
Deck watches me for a long moment, then smirks slightly. “I knew it.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Nope.” He points at me. “You finally let someone in. About fucking time, brother.”
Heat creeps into my face. He’s not wrong, and that scares me. Despite everything, I huff a laugh and watch his expression shift.
“We’ll keep him safe, CJ. He’s family.” The words settle deep: heavy and right.
When we go back inside, Finn and Eli are still asleep on the couch. Deck disappears into the kitchen and returns with coffee, which we take back outside.
We plan: shifts, coverage, contingencies, worst-case scenarios, routes, layers. By the time we’re done, the shape of it is solid. Not perfect, but enough.
“We’ve got him,” Deck says.
I nod.
We go back inside; I need to see my boy. Deck lifts Finn into his arms without warning, causing me to raise my eyebrows in question.
“Don’t ask,” Deck says flatly.
A grin tugs at my mouth, but I don’t comment. “See you in the morning.”
Then he’s gone.
I move to Eli and carefully lift him into my arms. He stirs faintly but settles again as I carry him to bed, laying him down and pulling the blankets over him.
I don’t leave immediately. I just watch him breathe, making sure he’s still here with me.
The rise and fall of his chest is the only thing keeping me steady right now.
I watch him for a while longer, then leave the door cracked and head back to the kitchen.
Dishes, counters, leftovers: pointless things. If I stop moving, the fear catches up. So I keep going, because if I stop, I think about that message again.
Found you.
By the time the apartment is clean, I turn off the lights and go to bed. Sleep doesn’t come, but Eli eventually crawls in and sprawls across me, breathing steady and finally still. My arms tighten around him. This is the only place he’s safe, and the only place I am, too.
I stare at the ceiling and make a promise I don’t intend to break.
He is mine.
The truth settles deep, fierce and unshakable. I won’t let anything take him from me. He has become someone I can’t imagine living without.