Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

ELIJAH

"Elijah?" Confused green eyes blink at me from the open doorway. "What are you doing here?" Liz's puzzlement as to why I'm standing at her door at ten o'clock at night gives way to concern. "Is everything okay?"

She must've been getting ready for bed. Her hair is pulled up into a high, messy bun, a few wet tendrils sticking to her cheeks—and she's holding a toothbrush.

"May I come in?"

I'll say what I need to out here if it comes to it, but I'd rather not.

"Uh…" She glances behind her. "Yeah. Come in. It's a bit of a mess."

Liz moves aside. I step around a pile of deconstructed cardboard boxes left in the entry.

"I can take this stuff down to the dumpster and the recycle bin when I leave."

"That's very sweet of you, but I'll do it in the morning."

When she closes the door, the hem of her tank top rises, exposing ugly scars across her abdomen and lower rib cage where she was stabbed. Those scars will forever be a stark, physical reminder of the horrors she survived. Every time she looks in the mirror will force her to relive the night where she lost everything. Her parents, her sister. The agony she must live in every day, not remembering what happened. Perhaps it's a blessing that she doesn't.

Liz notices me staring and quickly pulls down her top, but not before I also catch a glimpse of several blue butterflies with broken wings tattooed over a few of the scars.

She taps the head of the toothbrush against her leg. Fidgets in place. "Um, would you like something to drink? I have water and soda and juice."

"Water would be nice."

I make sure not to crowd behind her as I follow her into the kitchen. She's gotten over most of her wariness around us, but I can still sense some uneasiness.

She drops her toothbrush onto the counter, disappears into the small pantry, and comes out with a bottle of water.

"A glass with ice?"

"Plain's fine."

She passes it to me, then stands on the other side of the small counter island, letting it provide a barrier of comfort between us.

"I think I know why you're here."

I twist the cap off and take a drink, hoping it will help ease my suddenly parched throat.

"I'm so sorry, Elijah, for what I asked Julien to do. It wasn't fair of me to ask him and put him in that position, and it wasn't fair to you. I feel awful. Please don't be angry with him. It's my fault, not his."

"I appreciate that."

And I believe her. She didn't do it to be malicious or steal Julien away from me. She's searching for answers and trying to put the puzzle pieces of her missing life into some semblance of order.

Affection between friends is fine with me. I kiss Jessi on the lips hello when I see her. I've kissed Fallon and Ash on the cheek before. I hug David all the time, and Julien doesn't get upset, so I need to show him the same courtesy when it comes to Liz. However, I never had a thing for Jessi, Fallon, Ash, or David the way Julien had a thing for Liz, which means boundaries need to be set when it comes to my boyfriend.

I slide onto one of the barstools and get comfortable. "Did you find the answer you were looking for?"

Her head tilts in contemplation. "I think so."

"You need to tell Jayson that you're having feelings for Ryder."

"How did you…" She covers her face with both hands, drags them down until only her fingertips touch her mouth. "I don't want to hurt Jayson, but I'm tired of him pushing. I can't be his girlfriend. I'm not that girl anymore. I don't love him. If I did before, I don't feel it now. I don't feel a connection. With Ryder… it's different." She growls in frustration and spins on her heels to pace the floor. "I wish I could be her, the girl you all want back, but I'm not. I wish I could remember. I want to remember. I hate this. I hate feeling like this. I don't want to hurt anybody, and I feel that whatever I do or whatever choice I make is going to hurt one of you. It's fucked up."

It really is.

Leaning forward on the countertop, I ask, "Can I tell you something?"

Her pacing ceases, and she gives me her full attention.

"I fell in love with Julien, knowing full well how he felt about you. For a long time, he struggled with his feelings for me and with his bisexuality. You supported him and stood by him through everything. You did the same for me. Welcomed me with open arms. Became my friend. I won't be able to thank you enough for that. When you disappeared, the guys fell apart. It was bad. Really bad. I'm not going to go into the details, but Julien sank into a deep depression. It almost destroyed us. Not to sound mean, but I felt like I was competing for his love with a ghost. I was never jealous of you, but last year I started hating you, if that makes sense."

Liz brings a shaky hand to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. "Elijah, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

I blow out a breath. My gut churns when I think about those dark days.

"What I'm trying to say is that Julien still holds a lot of guilt. He feels like he failed you, and he'll do anything to make it up to you."

"Whatever happened that night isn't his fault. The fucking bastard who—" She visibly trembles, touches her side where the scars mark her torso. She scares the shit out of me when her complexion goes pallid, and she starts panting, like she's struggling for air.

I reach across the counter and grab her hand in a vise. "Hey, look at me. Focus on me and only me."

I hold her gaze until color returns to her face. Offering her my bottle of water, she guzzles the entire thing down.

"That was embarrassing."

"It's just you and me. Nothing to feel embarrassed about," I assure her. "You're safe here with me. Freak out all you want."

This time, she reaches for my hand. "I do feel safe with you. You have this calming aura about you."

Needing to re-center, she putters around the kitchen, taking out bread and ingredients to make a turkey sandwich.

"I'm starving. Want one?"

"Julien's going to make grilled cheese when I get back."

Slapping a thick mound of black-pepper turkey on one slice of bread, she squeezes out a small mountain of spicy brown mustard before adding a few ridged potato chips and dill pickle coins.

"I hate hearing that Julien blames himself," she says, taking a huge bite out of her humongous sandwich that's bigger than her mouth.

With a smile that doesn't quite reach my cheeks, I inform her, "If you haven't noticed, he has a Sir Galahad complex. So, the next time you want answers to questions about Jayson, don't use Julien to find them. His lips and the rest of his body are off limits."

Wiping a smear of mustard away, she puts her food down on the plate. "I really am so very sorry. I promise I won't do anything like that again. And thank you. For everything. You're being more understanding than I deserve."

Standing up, I round the island and take her in a hug. One she accepts readily. She smells like gardenia. It used to be her favorite fragrance. I gave her a basket full of gardenia-scented shit for Christmas one year. Soap, lotion, body spray, bath bombs.

"The guys aren't the only ones who love you. I do, too. I've missed my friend and hope I get the chance to know the girl you are now."

Liz hugs me harder. "I'd like that very much. Can I tell you something crazy?"

"Go for it."

"I don't like her."

"Who?"

"Old Elizabeth. That girl y'all keep saying is me. From everything I've learned and from all the stories Ryder and Julien have told me, old me was a prissy know-it-all who wanted two guys but could never make up her damn mind. As much as I want to remember, I don't want to be that person again."

What she says doesn't sit well with me. Liz had her flaws, but don't we all? No one is perfect. We make mistakes. The important thing is to learn from them. It's a hard lesson to master, as more often than not, we will repeat the same mistake again and again and again. I've had a few of those mistakes in my life. So, in a way, we're all crazy. Paraphrasing Albert Einstein, insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results.

Referring to my own experiences, I tell her, "You can't help who you love. Your heart wants what it wants. The only advice I can give you is to be honest with how you feel. That's something Old Elizabeth was too scared to do because her heart was so fucking big, she was terrified to disappoint the people she loved. Live no one else's life but your own. If they don't like it, fuck 'em."

It hits me how true that still is for me as well.

"I don't want to be scared anymore," Liz whispers.

When I return to the condo, Julien is sitting on the floor in the dark near the door, waiting for me.

I look at the man I love with all my heart. The man I want to marry and spend the rest of my life with.

"How mad are you?"

"I'm not mad," I reply.

He grabs the hand I offer, and I help pull him to his feet. Neither of us moves. We just exist in that quiet moment together, our hearts and souls tethered by unbreakable bonds that have been tested but have never broken.

He caresses a hand down my face, and I kiss the callus of his thumb when he sweeps it across my lips.

"Still want that grilled cheese?" he asks.

"Yeah."

Silently, we pad through the darkness and into the kitchen. Julien turns on the lights under the range hood before raiding the refrigerator for cheese and butter, while I get the large frying pan from the drawer under the oven. I grab the loaf of bread and take out four slices.

Working together, he hands me the carton of spreadable butter, and I use a butter knife to slather a thin layer on each side of the bread. Turning the gas knob to medium, he drops the bread onto the pan and dumps shredded sharp cheddar cheese onto two pieces, then adds a slice of Swiss to each.

"You can tell the merit of man by the way he remembers how to make your grilled cheese sandwich."

Julien grins. Using a spatula like a press, he flattens my sandwich, smushing it down until cheese oozes out, just the way I like it. The pressure also helps put a good char on the bread, toasting the butter to a dark, caramelized brown.

"I thought MLK said the measure of a man was determined by his character and by how he stands at times of controversy and challenges. Good to know it all comes down to Swiss cheese."

He flips the sandwiches over to toast the other sides.

"Swiss cheese is the path to world peace."

His snort of amusement makes me smile.

"I'm going to miss this," I say, resting my head on his shoulder as I watch him cook.

I've loved every second of our cohabitation, but moving in together full time is something for us down the line. College is a fleeting blip on the path of life, just four short years of being a wide-eyed undergrad, and I want at least another year of being a regular college guy living in the dorms with everyone else.

"Whenever you're ready," he replies.

Shutting off the gas, Julien transfers the sandwiches from the pan to the plate. Not caring if I burn my fingers, I grab mine and tear it in half right down the middle, waiting for the stretched strands of gooey cheese to cool before I eat them.

"I went to see Liz."

He rips off a corner of his sandwich and blows on it. "I figured that was where you'd go."

I expect him to ask questions, so I am surprised when he doesn't.

He gives me a buttery, greasy kiss that tastes even better than the grilled cheese.

"Finish up so we can go to bed."

Feeling a bit melancholy that I'll be moving out tomorrow, I kiss him. "As long as you promise to keep me up all night."

His gray eyes spark with smoldering heat. "I can definitely keep that promise."