“And what’s that, Dad?” Elijah asks. Elijah, the oldest, who’s been more of a father to me recently than my actual pop.
We all stare at Dad, waiting for this life-changing wisdom of his.
He clears his throat, stares out the window some more. “Never fall in love.”
I down the Scotch, feel its burn in my throat.Fuck. That is the stupidest piece of advice I ever heard. It’s like he’s spitting on the memory of our mother, of the years they spent loving each other. Of everything she meant to us.
Yeah, he’s broken. When she died a part of him went into the grave with her—maybe the best part. It was the same for all of us. I try telling myself to stop being a baby, that he’s doing the best he can, but I feel like I lost both my parents that day. I’ve never felt right since, apart from when I’m tanked, on the field, or recently, with Yasmin.
Yasmin. I don’t know her that well, but she’s way different compared to all the other girls I’ve known. There’s a spark with her. I think about her a lot, want to tell her things I’ve never told anyone.
Is this love? I don’t know. But I do know that when my dad tells me to never fall in love, I’m pretty sure I want to do the exact opposite. He had the whole world with my mom, and now he wants to tell us to turn our backs on love? That is so many shades of fucked up.
I glance around, not sure how my brothers are feeling. Does this make sense to them? Is this kind of hopelessness something I’m too young to understand?
None of them meet my eye. We’re together, but separate.
Fuck, I need another drink.
Chapter 1
Ellie
Ifinish up my shower and wrap my hair in a towel. I have big unruly hair, the kind with a mind of its own, and it needs a firm hand. I glance at the mirror and give myself a cheeky wink and a thumbs-up. A bit of positive affirmation to start the day never hurts, does it?
Besides, I’m feeling good. I was up early, managed a workout, and now I’m showered and ready to go. I have a packed schedule at work to look forward to, doing the job I love with people I like. And, as an extra bonus, my boyfriend Owen is in my kitchen. Even better, my boyfriend Owen seems to have cooked us breakfast—at least that’s what the delicious aroma of bacon, eggs, and freshly toasted bread tells me. The scent alone is enough to have my stomach growling, and I walk into the kitchen full of anticipation.
“Mhmm, that smells delicious.” I lick my lips, scanning the kitchen for my plate.
He looks sheepish, then covers it up with a shrug. “I didn’t make you any. I didn’t think you’d have time.”
Wouldn’t have time to eat? I always have time to eat, it’s a basic human function. One that I enjoy very much. Plus, I don’t have to leave for work for twenty minutes, which I’m pretty surehe knows. Is he just used to only having to take care of himself in the morning? Or does he think it’s acceptable to spend the night inmyapartment, and eatmyfood inmykitchen, without even having the courtesy to ask if I wanted any?
It would have been nice if he cooked me breakfast too, but I swallow down the disappointment and remind myself this is the fifth time he’s stayed over. We’ve only been dating for two months. This is all still very new, and we’re both still adjusting.
He just doesn’t know you yet, Ellie. Give it time. Don’t expect too much too soon. He’s a real-life human being, not a guy out of a book.
I plaster on a smile and tell him, “That’s okay. I’ll grab a granola bar and some fruit.”
He swallows down a mouthful of bacon. My bacon, which looks deliciously salty and cooked to perfection. “Those bars are full of sugar, you know? Why not just have some fruit?”
Because fruit alone is not a meal. Because I wanted bacon and eggs too.
“Yeah, I know they’re not the healthiest, but I just did a workout. I need some fuel.” I laugh awkwardly, for some reason feeling the need to defend my sugary breakfast choice. Why? I’m a grown-ass woman, and I can make my own decisions. I’m not lecturing him on the way that bacon is going to clog up his arteries, am I?
Calm down, I tell myself. I’m sure Owen’s just looking out for me. It’s good that he cares about my health.
Unfortunately, he then lets out a sarcastic snort that has my hackles rising.
“What?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “Pilates isn’t exactly a workout, Ellie.”
Tell that to my aching butt cheeks and my Jell-O legs, you patronizing asshole.Hmmm. Maybe he is a character from abook—one of the bad guys. And the only kind of guy I seem to be attracting lately.
“It’s reformer Pilates, Owen. It’s tough. Have you ever actually even tried it?” I ask, knowing he won’t have. If it doesn’t involve lifting the kind of weights that make your eyes almost bulge out of your head, Owen isn’t interested. He has the physique to show for it, yes, but does that give him the right to dismiss everything and everyone else? Talk about entitled.
He gives me a look that says he isn’t convinced, and I don’t have the energy to try and persuade him. I still have to tame my hair before leaving for the office. He goes back to his food while I pour myself a coffee—the same coffee I have every single morning.
