thirty-five
VANESSA
The transitionfrom the absolute surrender in his bed to the cold reality of a nightmare was a blur of panic. One minute, I was tangled in his sheets, floating in the warm, breathless afterglow of a decade’s worth of unspoken promises, my fingers idly tracing the contours of his shoulder. The next, the frantic, relentless, piercing chime of Elliott’s phone shattered the quiet. I watched his face drain of color in the moonlight as Richard’s frantic voice bled through the receiver.Morgan.
The next thirty minutes to an hour passed in an absolute daze. The club lights of the resort blurred seamlessly into the sterile, unforgiving glare of a hospital hallway. I wasn’t allowed in the back—only Richard and Elliott were granted access—so a large group of us gathered in the clinical limbo of the waiting area. Devastation hung heavy in the air, written plainly on our faces and in the rigid way we held ourselves.
It hadn’t truly occurred to me until this exact moment how much Morgan acted as the sunshine to so many people. Penelope sat directly beside me, stoic and completely still. I checked her pulse once just to make sure she was actually breathing. Pen never displayed emotion the way the rest of us did, but she had always been softer for Morgan. We all were.
Underneath the fear, I felt nothing but a rising, volatile anger: for Morgan, for Richard, for Elliott. As if this family hadn’t already been dragged through enough hell.No.I refused to let my mind wander down that dark path. Everything had to be fine. Their parents were already gone; nothing worse could possibly happen to them. I would bargain with God myself if it came down to it. I would gladly trade my soul to ensure Morgan never got hurt again.
It felt like hours had crawled by, though it was likely much shorter, when Elliott finally emerged from the back. He looked completely wrecked. The lobby was still packed with the remnants of the wedding party, and I braced myself for the worst. He took a heavy moment, looking around at the sea of anxious faces waiting on his word, and told them she was in good hands—that everything was under control. Pen sagged slightly in relief beside me, though the deep worry never quite left her eyes.
Then, Elliott’s gaze found mine. He reached for my hand, and I took it without hesitation.
He pulled me into a quiet alcove away from the hovering crowd. He was vibrating with anxiety—running his fingers frantically through his hair, tugging at the collar of his shirt, just trying to catch his breath.
“They’re running tests,” he rasped.
“And the baby?” My heart hung on the precipice of a jagged cliff; whatever word came out of his mouth next would decide which way it fell.
“Fine—for now.”
It wasn’t the answer I wanted. My chest tightened until it was painful to breathe.
“I just wish I’d paid more attention,” he muttered, his voice fracturing. “The doctor said her blood pressure was sky-high. I should’ve seen the signs, Ness. I was so wrapped up in my own shit—so wrapped up inyou—that I didn’t notice. I couldn’t focus on anything else.”
The words gut-punched me. All I could hear in his confession was an accusation: if I hadn’t been such a catastrophic complication in his life this week, maybe he would have noticed his sister was failing. Maybe this was my fault, too.
My throat went completely dry. A familiar, sick dread settled deep in my stomach—the kind that always preceded a total disaster. He paced the small perimeter of the alcove, forcefully rubbing his temples.
“We’ve all had a lot going on, Elliott. You know Morgan; she never says when something is wrong. It’s a family trait,” I offered, trying to anchor him.
He snapped instantly, turning on me. “I should know her better! I should have noticed!”
I forced my racing heart to slow down and took a steadying breath. This was a terrifyingly familiar sight—Elliott flailing under pressure, handling his grief all wrong. Time stretched like rubber. A desperate voice inside pushed me to test him, to seeif the man who had just held me in the dark was any different from the boy who had ruined me. What better moment to find out than right now? I reached out and gently placed my hand against his forearm—a simple, grounding gesture to show him I was right here.
The silence detonated.
His eyes flicked down to my hand as if it were a physical stain on his skin. “I think you should go,” he said. Each word was clipped, deliberate, brushing me off like I was the very last thing he needed.
“Why?” I whispered, though I already knew the script. It was the exact same line he’d delivered to me years ago, standing in the black suits of his parents’ funeral when I had tried to comfort him.
“I want to be alone. I just don’t want or need you here right now.”
He twisted the knife in slow motion, executing the betrayal perfectly. Pain flared hot and sharp behind my ribs, but I forced myself to hold steady. Tears leaked down my face anyway; I was holding back a massive dam, and the structural integrity was failing. He saw me cry, and for a fraction of a second, his hand twitched as if he might reach out to catch a tear.
Almostdoesn’t count in the real world.
I knew I shouldn’t plead, but the remnants of the afterglow made me weak. “Elliott, don’t do this. All I’m trying to do is be here for you.” I wanted to scream at him, to hurl all my stored grief and anger at his face for the last time he broke me exactly like this.
“I DON’T NEED YOU!” he roared.
The sheer volume of his voice echoed down the hall, drawing people toward the alcove to see what was wrong. It was pure déjà vu—the exact same wreckage, ten years later.
How had I let myself get trapped in this loop again? I had sworn on my life I would never put myself in a position to be discarded by him, yet here I stood: humiliated, rejected, and absolutely furious. More guests began to gather at the edge of the corridor; it was a human car wreck, and they couldn’t look away. I spotted Penelope in my peripheral vision, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Elliott as he completely unraveled. Someone nearby whispered to call security. For a split second, a sobered look flashed across his face, as if he suddenly understood the catastrophic scope of what he’d just done.
I wiped my face quickly, swallowed by embarrassment. There were a million venomous things I wanted to scream, but in the end, I gave him exactly what he asked for. I left him alone. He didn’t follow me—and, in the fragile state I was in, it was better that he didn’t.
