Damn it, Quinn's influence is definitely rubbing off on me.
She would be proud.
Chapter 39
Elijah
Even when she's sleepy and grumpy, I still find her adorable.
We've been on the road for about an hour now, and she's half-awake beside me, singing along to the music like she's the only one in the world who can hear it. She insisted on keeping her blue superhero pyjamas because, according to her, no one should have to be uncomfortable on a long drive.
I don't disagree.
She's clutching a coffee in both hands, her hair piled messily on top of her head.
And I love it.
I love this version of her. Well, I love every version of her.
No matter how she looks, my eyes keep drifting back to her like they belong there. Probably not the best thing at this moment in time as I’m driving, but damn it, I can't stop.
Last night she was really sore from practising all day at the studio. So, I massaged her with the lavender oils she seems to like, slow and careful, until the tension left her muscles. Then I washed her hair in the shower because she didn't have the energy to do it herself. She mumbled something about spoiling her, and I do.
I want to. My girl deserves it.
The truth is, I will never run out of energy when it comes to her. The week without her was hell. A quiet, hollow kind of hell. Like being trapped in a black hole where everything—sound, light, time—just collapsed in on itself.
And the only way out of it was her.
I’m still furious with Rose for getting into her head. And honestly, I’m not surprised at all that she picked that day of all days to do it. If she wanted the moment to sting the most, she chose perfectly.
It wasn't her story to tell.
My past was mine to lay out when I was ready. Not hers to drag into the light like some piece of gossip.
I’m not proud of what I did. It happened a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean it just disappears. I've learned to carry the weight of it, wishing I could forget, but over time, I’ve eventually forgiven myself.
Willow… she would've been completely justified in ending things right then. I wouldn't have blamed her.
Would I have hated it? Absolutely.
But she didn't end it, thank fuck.
She got angry and upset—rightfully so—and she took a step back to think everything through, even if she did just up and leave. As much as it killed me to give her space and wait, she deserved the time to decide what she wanted without me hovering over her shoulder.
Willow is a lot more mature than most people her age. It's one of the things I admire most about her. Sometimes I look at her and forget how young she is, but the age difference between us doesn't bother me.
When it comes out between us, I couldn't care less what other people think because at the end of the day, she's my person and I’m not letting that go again.
“So, are you going to tell me where we’re staying yet?”
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, keeping my attention on the road ahead. “Absolutely not.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the pout forming on her lips.
“Carry on pouting, princess,” I say lazily, glancing at her. “And I’ll give that mouth something else to do.”
Her lips part instantly, and she deliberately lifts her coffee, taking a sip of her coffee. I let out a quiet, amused laugh.
