I frowned. “What?”
He hesitated.
And just like that, the warmth in my chest turned to something heavier, something far colder.
I rolled onto my side, propping my head up with my hand. “Talk to me.”
Elliot exhaled. “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit.” I arched a brow. “You’re not a guy who dwells on nothing.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
I reached out, brushing my fingers along his jaw. “Come on. You’ve been weird about something for a while now, since you were in the hospital, really.”
He tensed.
There it was. Thatwasit. The accident.
I studied his face, my stomach tightening. “Elliot . . . what happened when you fell?”
His eyes flickered. “Mike—”
“And don’t tell me it was just an accident,” I interrupted. “Because when I told you Rodriguez was hurt, you froze. Your whole body turned into a statue, and from the look on your face, you wanted it to shatter into a million pieces. You weren’t okay then—and until you get this out—I don’t think you will be.”
Elliot swallowed.
I searched his face. “You think it was your fault, don’t you?”
His jaw clenched.
I felt my heart squeeze. “Why?”
For a moment, he didn’t speak.
Then, quietly—
“Because it was.”
I stared at him. “Elliot—”
“I was rushing. We both were.” He shook his head. “We were working faster than we should have been. Rodriguez leaned out of the bucket, and I didn’t see. I couldn’t see. I pressed the lever to shift and . . . I should have seen it coming. I should have—”
“Stop.”
His eyes snapped to mine.
I tightened my grip on his chin, forcing him to look at me. “You don’t get to do that.”
His brows furrowed. “Mike—”
“No,” I said firmly. “It wasan accident. You’re a damn good lineman. You know that.”
His throat bobbed.
I softened my voice. “You didn’t cause what happened, Elliot.”
His lips pressed together.