Page 8 of Cross the Line
“The asshole is the coach at the community rink…” Christina rushes to the breakfast bar, slaps her phone down, and zooms in on the caption: “An intimate moment between Comets’ number 21 and the peewee community coach.”
“The kids’ hockey coach…” My mind is unraveling faster than I can keep up. Taking me back to the first time Jayden took me up to the rooftop garden and the pool. When Auguste joined us…
“What’s the look?” Christina asks, finishing my water in one gulp.
“A while back, there was a thing, and one of the guys mentioned how Elijah was off when he saw Ryker at the rink. Like he was uncomfortable.”
“And you said that last night. You said he made you feel uncomfortable, right?”
“Because he was getting in my personal space and I didn’t know that he wasn’t into?—”
“Forget who the creep is into. He invaded your space and gave you the ick.” She swipes to an airline app. “Maybe that’s his MO. I totally thought he was hitting on you when I saw the two of you at the bar, so maybe you’re right. Maybe those photos aren’t painting the right picture.”
“Jayden must be devastated.”
She looks up, wincing. “Seventy-Four is the only person who knows Eli like you do. You know… the bond you guys have is totally extraordinary.”
“Doesn’t mean we don’t have moments of doubt. Wobbles on where we stand and—” My heart batters my lungs. “It’s a complex situation, and the more we explore, it ravels tighter. More complicated…”
“Hey,” she murmurs, leaning forward to grasp my knotted hands, pulling them apart. “Everything about ordinary life is complicated. Humans are complex beings. Anything that’s straightforward isn’t living… t’s not life… like, you know, love. Like loving someone requires tenacity and strength. To stick with that person when they’re at their worst, at rock bottom…”
Her thumbs caress the back of my hands as though, by comforting me, she’s also comforting herself.
“You and Eli have that longevity, that connection…” A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as though she can’t believe what she’s about to say. “What’s that love verse? Love is kind or whatever?”
“First Corinthians thirteen, four.Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not dishonor others and is not self-seeking. It is not easily provoked or resentful. Love rejoices with the truth and it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always—” I suck in a deep breath, trying to control the emotions burning in the back of my eyes, scorching down my throat so that I can’t speak through them. “—it always…always per-perseveres.”
“That, Fin. Love protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres.Thatis what you and Eli have. It’s what you and Jayden have had since the moment you met. And I know you won’t give me a definite answer, but I’m not stupid or blind. I see the three of you together, and it’s not you in the middle of them. It’s—” She circles a finger in the air. “Athing. Between all three of you. Eli and Jayden included.”
I stare down at the counter, squeezing her other hand in mine while she spins her phone toward me with a list of flights to North Carolina.
“The next flight to Charlotte is at ten-thirty. It gives us time to pack and get our asses to LAX, no rushing.”
“Us? You don’t have to come with?—”
“The fuck I don’t. I'm not allowing you to fly across the country on your own with all the shit going on.”
“But you have work and?—”
“Alice will cover for me. I do it for her all the time.”
“Thank you.”
“Girl,” she croons, scratching Samson’s head as he sniffs for contraband treats, “You never have to thank me. How many times have you listened to me drone on about my parents and their fucked up break-up? And anyway, it’s kind of nice being the voice of reason for once.”
I chuckle, digging my ID from my wallet and handing it to her. While she books flights, I text Auguste to arrange the sitter for Samson. I hate letting him down, but the ache of being away from Elijah and Jayden is worse than guilt. The sick, tight feeling won’t let up.
Packing doesn’t help. The anticipation needles me raw. By the time we’re in the Uber to Christina’s place to grab her things, I’m shaking,blinking back tears every time my phone buzzes, and it’s another alert instead ofthem.
I can’t take the silence.
I can’t take the distance.
I can’t take the not-knowing.
Christina sprints inside, leaving me alone in the back seat. No one to stop me when I pull up my call log and tap the contact pinned at the top.
Elijah.
