Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

JULIEN

"Go. I'll park the car," Ryder says as soon as he pulls up to Belly's.

I'm already jumping out of the car before he finishes the sentence, my only thought is to get to Elijah.

I've had five minutes to think the worst, so when I barrel through the doors and don't see him or David anywhere, I almost lose it.

"Are you here to pick up an order?" the girl at reception asks.

"I'm looking for my boyfriend. Blond, curly hair."

"Oh, yeah. He was sitting in the back booth with that football player. Darci won't shut up about him."

I don't fucking care.

"Are they still here?"

She turns to look behind her. "Um, it looks like they left. You must've just missed them."

David said to come to Belly's.

"Thanks," I tell her. I'll do my own looking.

"Julien!" David's voice cuts through the noise just as I pass the hallway that leads to the restrooms.

"Where is he?" I demand.

David gestures to the open door of the men's restroom. "In there."

My heart shatters with fear when I see Elijah hunched in a ball on the bathroom tile floor, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his head buried in his arms, his whole body trembling.

"What the hell happened?"

"I don't know," David replies, clearly worried.

"You don't know?" I bark.

Then why does David look guilty as hell?

"He flipped out and won't tell me what's wrong. Just kept saying your name, so I called you on his phone. I found it on the floor." He points to where. "He must have dropped it."

Going to my knees beside Elijah, I gently brush a lock of his hair away from his sweat-dampened forehead. His skin feels clammy to the touch, and his breaths are coming out in short, ragged gasps as if he is struggling to breathe.

"Baby, I'm here."

David hovers over us. "Should I call an ambulance?"

"Yes."

Elijah lifts his head, his eyes wide and unseeing, trapped in some private hell. A soft, broken sound escapes his lips.

"No… ambulance," he rasps.

Worried beyond anything else, I implore, "Sweetheart, if you're hurt, we need to get you to a hospital."

I don't like the different scenarios that play through my mind, the foremost being that someone hurt him again. I still have nightmares about the night Justin attacked him. Walking into Elijah's hospital room and seeing the bruises on his face. If anyone laid a hand on him again, I will burn the fucking world to the ground to find them and make them suffer. Fallon would help.

"Not…" Gasp. "Hurt."

After a quick, cursory onceover, I don't see any blood or obvious bruising, but I can't be a hundred percent sure.

"Elijah, please."

Gasp. "No." He grabs my hands. "Just… want… you."

"Then I'm going to need you to breathe with me," I say softly, cupping his face to keep his eyes firmly focused on me. "Deep, slow breaths, in and out, like I'm doing," I instruct as I show him how.

His chest heaves as he fights for control, and I squeeze his hands, willing my strength into him, wishing I could absorb his pain, his fear.

"That's it. You're doing so good, baby. You're safe. I've got you. Just breathe."

His fingers tighten painfully around mine.

"Don't let go," he murmurs.

"Not going anywhere without you," I promise, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Seeing him like this twists my insides into knots.

David inches closer. "What can I do?"

"You could back the hell up and give him some space."

"Hey, man. Let's step outside," Ryder says.

I never heard him come in, but I'm so glad he's here.

The door swings close. I trust Ry to guard it and not let anyone in.

"I'm so sorry," Elijah chokes out.

Cutting him off, I pull him into my lap and hold him as close as I can. " Shh . None of that. You have nothing to be sorry for."

His arms band around me, and he burrows in.

Minutes feel like hours as I hold him, murmuring soothing words. Gradually, his breathing begins to even out.

Needing to push, I do so carefully. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I feel so damn stupid."

"You're not stupid. You're smart and funny and brave and strong."

"I don't feel very strong or brave right now."

Elijah presses his lips to my neck, his tears wetting my skin, but I don't care. All that matters is that he's okay and coming back from whatever hell his mind had taken him.

I wait him out, knowing he'll talk to me when he's ready. I'll sit on this disgusting floor all fucking night long and hold him if that's what he needs.

"David and I got into an argument."

I'm glad David isn't in here because I'd probably punch him for that alone.

I stroke Elijah's soft curls. "About?"

"You."

Yep. Going to kill him.

"I came to the bathroom to wash up and splash some water on my face. And then… it was like I was back at that night. It just hit me out of the blue. When David came up behind me, I thought he was Justin."

Oh, god. Did he have a panic attack? He's been wary about being in enclosed spaces since that night, and until recently, he has avoided coming to Belly's. Too many bad memories.

"Why am I freaking out now? I didn't in Charleston. What's wrong with me?"

I read up on PTSD after Liz mentioned the therapist she was seeing in Seattle diagnosed her with it. It can develop weeks or years after experiencing a traumatic event, and any type of stressor can be a trigger. Elijah is describing some of the classic signs, but I'm not a doctor or a psychiatrist.

First things first. I need to take care of him. Whatever he needs. In the morning, we can figure out the rest.

I kiss the top of his head. "No matter what, we'll get through it. Together."

He nods, a small, fragile motion, but it's enough.

"Take me home," he says.

"I'll get Ry to call Ash and?—"

Elijah shakes his head. "Not the dorms. Home. With you."

Home.

Elijah is my home.

I help him to his feet and kiss him. "I love you."

I'm relieved when I see color blossom across his cheeks, replacing the chalky gray from earlier.

He drops his head to my chest and releases a mirthless chuckle. "I really don't like this bathroom."