“She hung up on me.” I said it flat because if I added any texture to the words, they’d cut me open again. “I told her about Ellis, how amazing he is, how he treats me. And she goes,‘You’re being stupid. That white boy’s just messing around with you’.”
Sierra was quiet for a moment. “God, Jett. That must have been awful.”
“The thing that kills me is I could tell she was scared. It comes from a place of love; she’s trying to protect me. Under all that anger, she’s just terrified someone’s going to hurt me. But she wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain that Ellis isn’t that guy.”
“So what now?”
“I don’t know. Keep being happy and hope she comes around. But I’m glad I told her. And I’m really glad you told your parents, too. We did the scary thing.”
“We absolutely did the scary thing. And whatever happens next, we’ve got each other.”
“Damn right we do. Next family dinner, you’re bringing Lauren, I’m bringing Ellis. We’ll show them what happy looks like.”
“Deal.” A pause. “And, Jett? Tell Ellis I said hi. And I’ll never make eye contact with him again.”
“Noted. And, Sierra? Next time you think I’m in mortal danger, maybe try calling first?”
“You two were being very loud.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
I ended the call and sat there in the quiet. From the bathroom, I could hear water running. Ellis washing his face, probably, or stalling while he figured out how to come back into the room after Sierra had seen him in a position that would haunt all three of us forever.
“You can come out,” I called.
He emerged in his boxers, hair damp, looking like a man who’d been through three emotional experiences in rapid succession and wasn’t sure which one to process first. He sat down next to me on the bed. Our shoulders touched.
“Your mom will come around.” He took my hand and pressed his thumb into my palm.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” His grip found mine. “And if she doesn’t, I’m still here.”
I leaned into him. The apartment was quiet. The fake rock outside my door was probably still displaced from Sierra’s panicked key retrieval. Somewhere across Brooklyn, my mom was sitting in her kitchen with the bachata still playing, and Sierra was sitting in her car in my parking lot, and the world had shifted under all of us in ways none of us could measure yet.
“I love you.” My arms went around him.
“I love you, too.”
“Ellis?”
“Yeah?”
“We need to move that spare key.”
Two days later, Ellis’ mom texted him while we were on his couch. He glanced at the screen, then set the phone face down on the cushion between us.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine.” He picked up the remote. “What were we watching?”
I let it go. He’d been letting my silences go, too. The Sundays my phone didn’t ring, and I stared at the wall and said nothing. We were both carrying something we hadn’t figured out how to put down yet.
His phone buzzed again, face down. Neither of us reached for it.
Outside, November pressed against the windows. Cold that didn’t announce itself, just settled in, quiet and patient, until you forgot what warm had felt like.
Chapter seventeen
