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Fuck.
With a long sigh, I put a hand to my temple, and waited for an explanation. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more interesting, it became a fucking circus.
When would it stop?
Elliot let out a breath and leaned back against the wall, facing me. “We were wondering if we could stay with you over break.” He bit his lip, a slight sign of nervousness. “If that’s okay,” he added.
“Why?” I asked.
Elliot looked like he was too hesitant to say anything more. With a sigh, Leo hopped onto my bed as if he were ready for a long talk, sleepover-style.
“Fine. Since he’s being a pussy, I’ll explain,” he said. “You know how Elliot’s been living with his dad?”
I nodded.
Before continuing, he looked toward Elliot, as if to gain his permission to continue. It was about to get personal.
“There’s an issue with his mom,” Leo continued slowly. “She’s … uh, help me out, here, Ell. Can’t you speak for yourself?”
“I agree.” I glared at Elliot. “Get over yourself. I want to hear whatever this is from the horse’s mouth.”
Rolling his eyes, Elliot drew in a deep breath and crossed his arms. “Whatever. My dad’s been hitting her. So, I tried to put an end to it.”
I could only look at him.
What the fuck was I supposed to do, other than listen and wait for him to come clean?
“Last night. He started again. He was drunk, you know. I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I used this,” he explained, his fragmented sentences bearing more depth than he realized. With a careful movement, he rolled the bandage off his forearm to reveal a beautiful, ornate print of a dagger. The skin was still glossy.
He snorted as he looked at it, then covered the tattoo back up.
“I mean, it wasn’t a fucking dagger. But I raised a knife at him. What else did he expect me to do? Stand back and watch?” He laughed, a harsh, dark laugh filled with hurt more than hate. “Stand back and watch him bully her? I’ve done that too many times before. So, I did what I had to do. He’s in some hospital in Raleigh. Don’t ask me where, because I couldn’t give a shit.”
I nodded, watching as his expression changed from frustration to embarrassment. He dipped his head, eyes cast to the floor, and let out a short cough. I stepped toward him, reaching out, and he allowed my hands to cradle his cheeks. When he didn’t flinch, I stroked the soft skin, feeling myself disappear in his watery, emerald gaze.
“I didn’t know about this,” I whispered, letting my hands fall to his neck, then his shoulders. I could feel his breaths, his pulse—on the outside, he seemed calm despite this sudden confession, but I could sense the rate of his heartbeat skyrocket. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Again, he let out another snort, as if the answer was obvious. Of course, to him everything was. It was self-defense. Inside, I knew he was confused and his emotions were tangled.
“Because,” he scoffed, “you’d assume shit about me. If I told you before, you’d think it’s some kind of excuse.”
“Excuse?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “For what?”
“For treating you like nothing,” he muttered, his voice so low that I almost believed he was scared to say the words. “For doing the things I did.”
I continued to hold him, giving him my full attention in case he wanted to share more. It made sense that he wouldn’t have told me about this before. Elliot guarded his thoughts and feelings closely. I had come to accept that as part of his personality, an obstacle that I could work with, but fail to change.
Yet, what he told me seemed accurate. If he had told me this about this issue between his parents before, I might’ve dismissed it as just that—an excuse. It was a valid assumption to make. A damaged man yields a damaged son, who wreaks havoc on the world around him. Of course.
I might’ve seen it as Elliot asking for pity, when he deserved none.
“You’re wrong,” I said. “Dead wrong.”
Without thinking, I pushed myself up on my tip-toes and planted a kiss on his lips. The contact was brief, but deep. When I pulled away, Elliot looked at me, as if bewildered I had reacted in that way, before putting his hand around the back of my neck to return the kiss. I leaned into it, allowing him to taste a bit of my tongue, allowing myself a drink of his breath.
It tasted faintly of alcohol.
“I missed you,” Elliot breathed, pulling back at the sound of Leo clearing his throat. Turning his head to him, he said, “What’re you looking at, twink?”
