CHAPTER TEN

THEO

Around 9am, while I was trying to force down breakfast, Ramos called.

Thank God. I needed him to remind me I wasn't dead and in some limbo where Elijah tormented me.

I saw his name on the screen and answered, grateful for the excuse to leave the table where Elijah was sitting across from me eating toast like he hadn't had his hands all over me last night.

"Ramos," I said, stepping out onto the back porch.

"Cap." Danny “Carson” Ramos, my assistant captain. He was both dependable and nosy in equal measure. "You didn't call when you got to mom’s, you good?"

"Yeah, I've been here a few days."

"Good. When are you coming back? The team needs you."

"Two more weeks. Maybe three."

"Three weeks?" He paused. "Coach has me running drills but it's not the same. You know how Prieto gets without you keeping him in line."

I could picture it—Prieto getting too aggressive, the rookies getting nervous, Carson trying to mediate. "Tell Prieto I'll kick his ass if he's not sharp when I get back."

"Will do." Another pause. "You okay, man? You sound off."

"I'm fine."

"You sure? Because you sound like—I don't know. Tired."

"Just weird being home. You know how it is."

Carson didn't believe me. I could practically hear it in the silence. But he let it go. "Alright. Well, get back soon. We miss our captain."

"Yeah. I'll be back soon."

After we hung up, I stood on the porch for another minute and thought about the city, my team and the life I had that made sense, where I knew exactly who I was and what I was supposed to be doing.

Then I went back inside and my mother was waiting.

"Theo, I need you to run some errands with Elijah. We need supplies for the engagement party Douglas is planning."

"I can go alone."

She gave me the look. The one that said this wasn't a request and arguing would make things worse.

"It's a lot to carry. You'll need help. Besides, it'll be good for you two to spend time together."

I opened my mouth to argue and she raised one eyebrow. I closed my mouth.

"Great," she said brightly. "The list is on the counter. Elijah's already got the car keys."

Then she paused, eyes squinting at my neck.

“What?” I raised a brow at her.

She reached forward, tilting my head to get a better view of my neck. “What happened to your neck? It has some red marks.”

“red…” my heart dropped to my fucking ass. Voss. He fucking marked me.

“Theo?” She looked at me expectantly.

My heart raced. What do I do? “i–i–” stuttering like an idiot. “It was a mosquito. Probably bit me on one of my runs.”

“A mosquito? This time of the year?” She didn't look convinced.

“Yes, mom. What else would it be?”

she still didn't look convinced but dropped it and walked away.

****

In the car, Elijah drove and I stared out the window.

We didn't talk for the first ten minutes. The silence was thick and uncomfortable and I refused to be the one to break it.

At the store, we moved through aisles grabbing things off my mother's list. Paper plates, decorations and some kind of fancy napkins she absolutely had to have. Elijah pushed the cart. I walked ahead, putting distance between us whenever I could.

Then, in the middle of the party supplies aisle, he said, "You sleep like shit."

I stopped walking. "What?"

"The wall's thin. I can hear you pacing at 2 AM."

My jaw clenched. "That's not my problem."

He caught up to me, stopping the cart. "Isn't it?"

I didn't answer. Just grabbed a package of streamers off the shelf and threw them in the cart.

"What keeps you up?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Liar."

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop lying and I will."

I walked away, found the next thing on the list and he followed with the cart at a slow pace like we had all the time in the world.

We made it through the checkout without talking. In the parking lot, loading bags into the trunk, his hand brushed mine as we both reached for the same bag.

I pulled back like I'd been burned.

Elijah had a knowing smile on his face now. "You keep flinching. Why?"

I slammed the trunk shut harder than necessary. "Because I don't want you touching me."

He stepped closer. We were in a public parking lot in broad daylight and he stepped closer like that didn't matter and he could do whatever he wanted. His voice dropped low enough that only I could hear. "Your mouth says that. Your body says something else."

"You don't know anything about my body."

"I know you were hard when you left my room last night."

My face went hot. "Fuck you."

"That's not a denial."

I got in the car and slammed the door. Elijah took his sweet time walking around to the driver's side. Got in, started the engine and didn't say anything.

On the drive home, he rested his hand on the gear shift. It was a manual, so his hand had to be there. Except he wasn't shifting. Just resting it there a few inches from my thigh. Close enough that I could feel the heat from him. I was becoming hyperaware about everything that concerned him.

I stared out the window and tried to ignore it.

"I heard you last night," Elijah said. "After you left my room."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I heard you get in the shower and the water running for a long time. Cold water, I'm guessing."

"Stop."

"I heard you punching something. Your door, maybe? Your hand must hurt."

I looked down at my knuckles. They were bruised purple and tender. I'd forgotten about that.

"Does it?" he asked.

"Does what?"

"Hurt."

"No."

"Liar." His hand shifted on the gear shift. Just enough that his pinky finger brushed the outside of my thigh. "You do that a lot. Lie. Even when we both know the truth."

I didn't respond as I kept staring out the window, trying to ignore the fact that his hand was still there, his finger still barely touching my leg through my jeans.

"I'm not going to stop," Elijah said quietly. "I know that's what you're hoping. That I'll get bored or give up or decide this isn't worth it. But I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because you want me to. Because if I stopped, you'd have to admit why you're disappointed and that would crush you more than anything else.”

"I wouldn't be disappointed."

He glanced at me then back at the road. His finger pressed slightly harder against my thigh. "Yes, you would."

We pulled into the driveway and he finally moved his hand. I got out before the car fully stopped, grabbed bags from the trunk, and went straight inside without waiting for him.

My mother was in the kitchen. "Perfect timing! Just set those on the counter."

I set the bags down and started unpacking them. Elijah came in with the rest, set them next to mine. Our hands brushed reaching for the same bag and I yanked mine back.

My mother noticed and looked between us but didn't say anything as she smiled and went back to organizing.

"Thank you, boys. That was a big help."

"No problem," Elijah said.

I went upstairs without responding.

In my room, I sat on the bed and looked at my bruised knuckles.

Through the wall, I heard Elijah's door close.

I lay back and stared at the ceiling. Two more weeks. Maybe three.

I wasn't going to survive this.