Page 69 of Ripple Effect

It hits me then, like a slap of cold water, the depth of his vulnerability. Since our kiss, I had been thinking it was our shared circumstances, our proximity, that kept Elio on edge. But as he speaks, the truth unravels itself before me, and the realization is as humbling as it is heartbreaking.

It’s fear. Pure, unadulterated fear.

Elio is scared, not just of our situation, but of me. Of the power I hold over the bond we’re creating. He’s terrified that these feelings between us might just be a fleeting fascination on my part, a product of our shared vulnerability.

That once I’m out of his proximity, back in my own world, the fire we’ve stoked might cool, leaving him with the ashes. That the promises we long to whisper in the dark might evaporate in the light of day.

For a man who has always seemed so unshakable despite his circumstances, so sure of himself in light of life’s challenges, this glimpse into his insecurities rattles me. I realize now that what he’s asking for isn’t time or space.

It’s a plea, a silent call for reassurance.

I clear my throat, my voice shaky. “Elio, I ... I don’t—”

He raises a hand, cutting me off gently. “Don’t say anything now. Just think about what I said. If you choose me, we’ll work it out. And if you don’t ... well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

The weight of his words settles in my chest. “I won’t change my mind about you.”

He smiles gently, doubt touching the corners of his eyes. “Okay.”

“I won’t,” I say firmly, honestly, and he lets it go for the rest of the drive.

* * *

A few hours later,Elio and I grip June’s hands as we stroll down the tree-lined streets. She’s practically skipping in her shiny red shoes, her gingham dress swishing with every step.

Twinkling fairy lights wind around columns of grand houses, and the sidewalks bustle with children all dolled up in their costumes.

“The big candy!” June’s voice carries a note of pure joy, pointing at a house up ahead. There are hordes of people walking from that direction, happily bragging at the size of the candy bars they’ve just scored.

Elio chuckles, adjusting her little wicker basket. “That’s the plan, Junebug. Big candy for a big night. But we have a lot of houses to visit still.”

Distracted, my gaze wanders. Mansion after mansion surrounds us, each with sprawling lawns and intricate Halloween displays. This isn’t any ordinary neighborhood—it’s suburban affluence personified.

Harper and Luca may seem down-to-earth, simple, and grounded, but their surroundings scream otherwise. I suppose it all makes sense, though. With Luca’s near-celebrity status, this gated community affords them at least a semblance of normalcy.

From what little I know about them, and despite their hectic schedules, it’s obvious they crave a quiet family life. When we arrived at their place earlier, they were both in a rush but didn’t hesitate to shower their daughter with love—endless hugs and kisses, spooky stories, and costume pictures—before they slipped out for the night.

“I want that one!” June’s voice, filled with that charming toddler tenacity, brings me back to the present. I look to see her pointing at a house that’s turned its entire yard into a mini haunted maze, practically dragging us behind her.

“Alright, alright,” I laugh, matching her steps. “Let’s speed it up.”

“Hey, do you think there’ll be any clowns in there?” Elio asks with a mischievous gleam, nodding at the maze entrance.

I squint, assessing the situation for myself. “This is a kids’ maze. I seriously doubt they’d traumatize them like that.”

He smirks. “You never know. Some of these rich people might have a twisted sense of fun.”

We drop June’s hands as he swings her on top of his shoulders, making her giggle with glee. Then his free hand reaches out to me, an unspoken invitation. Our thumbs brush, and there’s a slow, deliberate curling of his fingers over mine.

“There better not be any surprises in there,” I mock warn, squeezing his hand.

He laughs, the sound warm and inviting. “If there are, just hang on to me, and I’ll protect you from the super-scary balloon animals.”

We move closer to the entrance, Bentley in tow, and an older woman slows her pace to look down at June. “Oh, what a perfect little Dorothy you are!”

June beams. “And Toto, too!” Her hand, so small, gestures down to Bentley, trailing beside her with utmost dignity.

“He’s the lion tonight, June,” I correct gently.

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