Page 120 of Cross the Line
Unknown:You’re going to die bitch.
“What the fuck?”She slaps my hand away when I clear the notification, only for another to replace it. And another. “How long have you been getting these?”
“Not long,” I say, trying to hold on to the phone when she pries it out of my hand.
Of course she knows my passcode; it’s still the same one I used in college—Elijah’s birthday.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” The glare she’s giving my phone is meaner than when her father texted her to say he was skipping her graduation. “There’s like…hundreds, Fin!”
“They started last night after The Chronicle posted the photo of the three of us.”
“You need to report them. This is harassment. It’s… fucking disgusting and?—”
“What’s disgusting?” Elijah’s baritone slices in.
There’s a defensive edge as he stands at my side. His arm rests on my shoulder, holding me to him so that my head is resting on his hard stomach when I attempt to snatch my phone back.
Christina looks from me to Elijah. When her face morphs to an apologetic grimace, I know she’s going to tell him, and he’s going to freak.
She hands him my phone. “Read it for yourself.”
He doesn’t at first. Elijah grips the device, looking at me for permission.
Never one to wait out silence, Christina snaps, “Your girl is getting hate mail.”
“What?” He searches my face, then scrolls the messages like she did. “I thought we were over this bullshit with?—”
“It’s not The Fellowship, Elijah.” Even if Mom texted, the ugliness isn’t theirs.
Already pale, he goes translucent, tapping in and out, reading at random. His eyes narrow to slits. When they lift to me, I shrink.
If wrath had a body, it would be him.
“You should’ve told me.” The words grind through clenched teeth. “Why? Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want to upset you.” Elijah growls at my reply, so I try a different angle. “Things are finally good and?—”
“Things arenotgood, Finley. If you are being harassed,nothingis good.” He pockets my phone as he lifts me to my feet. Dragging in a breath, he holds my face in both hands. “I promised I would protect you. That I wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt you again. How can I make good on that promise if you don’t talk to me?”
“What’s going on?” Jayden slides in, arms slung around both of us. “Why the glum faces?”
His bright grin is sunshine burning through the tension.
Christina slinks back as Matheo approaches. Unlike Jayden, he’s instantly in defense mode—scanning Tina, the room, then us. “What’s happening?”
Three burly hockey players close around me with a spectrum of confused, worried, and enraged expressions on their faces. And all that’s going through my mind are Eli’s words:
Nothing is good.
Context aside, the phrasing needles me. Because we are good. We’re better than good, and I refuse to let anyone put a damper on us.
I’ve lived my whole life chained to an outdated, shortsighted, and contradictory gospel. Now that I am free, nobody is putting me back in those shackles.
“You know, just because it’s not easy, it doesn’t mean it’s not good,” I snap. “For God’s sake, Eli, haven’t you learned that yet? Everything worth having requires fighting for.”
“Of course I know that, Fin.” His hand anchors my waist as he steps in, eyes like a thunderhead about to break. “I will always fight for you… for us.”
He tugs Jayden in, closing our bubble.
