Page 31 of Into the Mountains
“That’s not how the swear jar works.”
“I mean, I can keep this and go buy my afternoon coffee. Or you can tell me why I’m right and take the money for the jar.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile in them that tells me he likes this playful side of people.
“Fine. I think you’re right,” he repeats.
“So I’ve heard.”
“My mom liked seeing me happy.”
“Most moms like seeing their kids happy.”
“Do you think…” He hesitates, his voice quieter. His eyes shift around as if he’s afraid people around him will overhear us. Moving closer until he’s almost at my ear, he whispers, “Do you think my dad will be happy again?”
A fissure opens in my chest and spreads to the deepest crevices of my heart. Ones I threw a patch over and thought I mended a long time ago. I never really knew how to mend things properly though and the stitches on the patch are coming loose.
The more time I spend around both of them, the more the threads are being pulled. Tugging and begging for them to letthat patch free. The thing is, that patch is holding much more than the pain associated with Elias. Him, my mom, my dad. It’s all wrapped up and shoved so deep into the crevice, the echo is never ending.
Ethan hasn’t moved and I’m not sure how to respond to his question. So I just wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly. He doesn’t move his arms to return the hug, rather he melts into me and curls his body into mine. I wait until he’s ready to get up and by the time he does, our food has arrived. We gather our cards and devour our food, getting lost in conversation about hobbit holes and the rules of Gin rummy.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ELIAS
Walking into the clinic this time feels more like a death sentence. With how much—or how little—Charlotte and I have actually accomplished over the last few weeks, there’s a small stone of guilt sitting in my stomach that feels more like a boulder. I should have been trying harder to get along and as much as I wish I could say it’s her that makes it so difficult, it’s just as much me as it is her. We haven’t found the work relationship we need. I can’t help it though. She…vexesme. The word coming from the last season ofBridgertonI binged last week. When I heard Kate tell Anthony that he vexed her, I couldn’t think of a better description for what Charlotte does to me. Completely and wholly frustrating, but at the same time, I’m wholly enchanted by her.
On one of the nights I got home early, Charlotte and Ethan weren’t home. She had texted letting me know they went for ice cream which presented a perfect opportunity for me to rot on the couch with one or two episodes until they returned. And when they arrived, Ethan wrapped around Charlotte like a koala, head on her shoulder completely passed out, I couldn’t make it to the remote fast enough to switch the show.
“You are not watchingBridgerton?” Without even turning around, I could hear the smirk in Charlotte’s barely audible voice. With a split second to decide whether I was going to deny it even though I knew she saw it clear as day or if I was going to lean into it, I chose the latter.
“You don’t?”
“Pause it. I’ll be right back,” she whispers before turning back around up the stairs to take Ethan to his room, I’m assuming to tuck him into bed. I get up to follow her, tip-toeing up the stairs careful to avoid the creaks that might be lurking. Once I make it to his room, I hear their voices carry into the hallway. I lean in quietly, not wanting to disturb them.
“Thank you for the cards and the ice cream, Charlie.”
Charlotte brushes his hair back from his forehead. “Anytime, E.” My heart aches at the nicknames and I wonder how I missed the fact that they’ve gotten so close lately. Most people only see babysitting as another way to make extra cash, and sure that is part of it for Charlotte, but she’s different. She sees it as more.
“Do you mean that?” His voice is so small, nervous to ask a question he isn’t sure he wants the answer to.
She makes room for herself on his bed bringing Sable up with her. “Honestly?” He nods his head and my heart starts beating rapidly.
“I mean it with everything I have. You’re my favorite part of my week, E. Even if I have to deal with your grumpy dad,” she says, jokingly.
“He is kinda grumpy. But not all the time.” A sad smile forms on my face at the idea that Ethan feels the need to defend me.
“No, not all the time. You’re right.”
“You didn’t answer my question from earlier,” he accuses.
“I didn’t.”
“Will you answer it now?”
“Do I think your dad will be happy again?” She pauses as they both give the cat attention, seemingly to distract themselves from the moment. The ache in my chest deepens and I rub it as if that will make the pain go away. Ethan has always been so smart and intuitive. Observant as hell and I think over the years, I’ve forgotten just how observant he can be. “I do.”
“Really?”
