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Eli.
My heart seized in my chest, every inch of me going tight.
This was what I was sure he was dreading.
The adults were one thing, adults who had him for thirty some-odd years.
The kids, these kids who had no idea who he was, that was what he was dreading.
The questions.
The lack of recognition.
"Hey Eli," Eli said, voice thick, giving him a smile that was clear was pained.
And then the adorable, innocent little thing did it.
He gutted him.
"Who are you?"
I felt a knife to my own gut, could see the same pain on everyone else's faces. I couldn't even imagine how he was feeling.
My gaze found his, his eyes glassy. He half-turned away, more toward his mother, his hand raising, pressing into his eyes, struggling to keep it together.
"Little Eli," Becca's confident voice called, old enough to be able to sense when the adults needed a minute, good enough to be willing to step in and give them it. "Come here."
Little Eli hopped off his uncle's lap and ran over to her. "I'm not little," he declared, voice firm as she led him out of the room.
"It's okay," Helen said, her arms going around Eli. His forehead fell forward into her shoulder, his body shaking as he sucked in a breath. "I know," she said, kissing the side of his head. "I know."
I had to look away, reaching up to swipe tears off my cheeks.
When I looked up, everyone else was similarly affected, the women turned into their men's shoulders, men who were barely keeping it together themselves.
Hell, even Peyton as she stepped in and saw the scene - having been helping with the clean-up - looked taken aback. If there was one thing I knew for sure about Peyton, it was that she was a hard nut to crack. I didn't remember the last time I had seen her cry. It might have actually been when we were kids. She quipped when I was getting the, as she called it, 'waterworks,' that she had sold her tear ducts on the black market to finance the upkeep of her amazing hair.
So seeing her eyes go wide then glisten slightly was another knife to the gut.
Sensing my inspection, her gaze found mine and her eyes went horrified.
Oh, fuck no, she mouthed before turning on her heel and disappearing.
When I looked back, Eli's breathing looked even, and his mother was whispering something between the two of them into his ear as she stroked his hair slightly.
Whatever it was she was saying seemed to help him bring his composure back.
A moment later, he took a deep breath and pulled away.
Her hands cradled his face.
"Now fuck your parole. Go get a drink. It looks like Autumn needs a refill too," she added, making me start and immediately jump up.
I knew a mom-command when I heard one.
And even though she wasn't actually my mother, I felt compelled to do exactly what she said.
"Yeah, I'm empty," I said with a smile I hoped met my eyes as Eli's head turned in my direction.
He gave me a smile that must have matched my own, and, yeah, it totally didn't reach. "Can't have that," he agreed, standing, and moving toward me, putting an arm around my hips and leading me out of the room.
But not toward the kitchen where the booze was. No, he led me out toward the front of the house, setting my glass away, grabbing some random jacket off a hook, and pulling me outside with him. He didn't stop pulling until he was leaning up against the back of my car, reaching to pull my front to face his, then draping the jacket across my back, using the sides to pull me against his body.
His arms went around my center, his face in my neck.
There wasn't even a hint of hesitation before my arms went around him, holding on as tight as he was holding me.
"This is even harder than I expected," he admitted, voice rough, raw - a half-healed wound ripped open.
Having no words, no comfort other than my presence, my listening ear, I just squeezed him tighter, and let him drain it out.
"He has my fucking name, and he doesn't know who I am."
Oh, God.
I needed to keep it under control. I was supposed to be the one comforting him; I couldn't bring on the tears again.
"He will know you, Eli. He's so little. Most of his childhood memories will have you in them."
"And Becca?" he asked, voice barely more than a choked whisper. "And Izzy? They're closer to teens than kids. Izzy wouldn't even come close to me."
That was, unfortunately, true.
Most of the kids had kept a bit of a wide birth around me, Eli, and Peyton, all of us being strangers to them.
"Becca remembered you," I tried.
He swallowed hard, pressing his face into my neck. "She told me she thought I didn't love her anymore, Autumn." Oh, hell. Okay. There was no way to stop a few tears. "Since I never responded to any of her letters. I did that. I ripped away the comfort that she should have had in knowing that her whole family loved and supported and appreciated her. I made a part of her, maybe only a small part, but a part of her perfect little self think that there was even a chance that she was unlovable. I fucking did that."
