Page 52 of Ripple Effect

“Who was that?” Elio’s voice is rough with sleep, the vibrations rumbling through my back.

“Just Logan,” I say, brushing it off. I don’t want to think about him, not when I’m here, entwined with someone who’s starting to mean a whole lot more to me.

His body stiffens against mine, but his arm remains draped across my waist. “You should think about blocking him. It’s not healthy to keep someone around who’s just going to cause you pain. I’ve had to do it before.”

“You blocked someone?” I turn to face him, my brows furrowed.

“Yeah. Sometimes people don’t get the hint, or they just don’t relent. You need to protect yourself, Daze.”

“I know. I just ...” I trail off, the silence stretching between us. “We were together for so long, our lives so intertwined. What if something happens to him or his family? I’d want to know.”

His gaze softens, his thumb absently stroking the back of my hand. “I get that. But there’s a line. You have to figure out where to draw it.”

Before I can respond, my phone vibrates again, the screen lighting up with a picture of Gracie this time. With a quick apology to Elio, I answer it.

“Hey, little problem here,” she rushes out before I even get a word in. “Logan’s waiting outside of our apartment for you.”

My heart drops to my stomach. I pull away from Elio, sitting up abruptly. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know, but he seems desperate. He says he needs to talk to you about something important.” Gracie sounds worried, her voice a notch higher than usual.

A pang of anxiety jabs at my chest. I glance at Elio, whose face has grown serious. His eyes meet mine, the question unspoken but clear.

“Alright. I’ll be there soon,” I tell Gracie, hanging up the phone. Elio’s sitting up now, his back resting against the headboard. His eyes are guarded, the playful spark from earlier replaced with a soberness that makes my chest ache.

“I’m guessing you heard that,” I say, my voice faltering.

He nods, running a hand through his tousled hair. There’s a silence that stretches between us, heavy and full of unspoken questions. He doesn’t push, doesn’t probe, but the tension in his jaw tells me he’s not as indifferent as he’d like me to believe.

I scramble out of the bed, gathering up my purse. “Are you, um, feeling okay after yesterday?”

“I’m fine,” he grits out.

“Then I should go. He ... he wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t important.”

Again, Elio nods, his expression unreadable. I wish he’d say something, anything. I wish he’d voice his thoughts instead of letting me guess.

“You want me to come along?” he finally asks. “I can be your buffer.”

“No, you should stay and rest. I don’t want anything to screw with your heart today.” I glance at the mirror above his dresser, smoothing my hair back into a quick ponytail. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, tops. If you feel anything bad start to happen, call me right away.”

“Yeah, alright. Just ... be careful, will you?”

The words hit me harder than I expect, their weight heavy with unsaid meaning. I give him a small, grateful smile, promise him I will, pat Bentley on the head ... and then I leave, shutting the door quietly behind me.

I head out to face Logan, but my heart remains with Elio, still curled up in his bed, his gentle caution ringing in my ears.

21

ELIO

Bentley’s noseagainst my cheek is a gentle, insistent poke, nudging me out of my groggy morning mope fest. I don’t want to get up, but it’s not because I’m too drowsy or tired. It’s Daisy. Or, more accurately, the lack of her.

I rub my eyes, taking in the stark numbers on my phone screen: 7:37 a.m. I squint at it, as if that would somehow change the fact that Daisy’s only been gone for less than fifteen minutes. She’s off to find out what Logan wants, a meeting that leaves me here twiddling my thumbs, tracing the path of sunlight as it dances across my ceiling.

The spot beside me is empty. But the sheets still hold a hint of Daisy, a whisper of strawberry and something a little sweeter—a distinct scent that’s all her. I throw an arm across the other side of the bed, the cold linen a stark reminder of her absence.

“Damn,” I mutter to the empty room. Bentley, my loyal partner in this wait, glances up at me. His puppy eyes mirror my sentiment, and I can’t help but give him a half-hearted smile. “I know, buddy. It fuckin’ sucks.”

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