His eyebrows rise with genuine concern. “Are you okay?”
No. I told Jake I couldn’t see our future together and it was a lie. A Big. Fat. Ugly. Lie. Because our future is amplified in my head until it’s all I see. “We just came off tour,” I explain, forcing blitheness to my voice that I’m not feeling. “I’m exhausted. And I haven’t had any coffee yet today.”
His brilliant blue eyes soften with sympathy, and he signals a passing waitress. “Let’s rectify that.”
He places an order for two coffees, an espresso for himself and a long black for me, requesting it darker and stronger than Satan himself. Does everyone know how I take my coffee?
The waitress leaves, and I’m gifted with a magnetic grin. “How was the tour, gorgeous?”
Gorgeous? A snort of disbelief escapes me. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”
He shrugs. “You’re always gorgeous to me.”
I sink back in my seat, surprised and yet unsurprised all at the same time. He’s flirting. Elijah Rossiter is flirting with me. I thought I’d imagined it at the party and brushed it away. A frown creases my brow. “Eli—”
“Just accept a compliment and move on, sweetheart.”
“Okay, okay.”
“So …” His face wrinkles in a wince as if what he’s about to say next is going to hurt. “I heard about you and Jake.”
“Ugh.” My head tips back, and I draw in a long breath. The gossip network has been running hot. At times it can be convenient, but in this instance it’s plain annoying. And embarrassing. My face flushes when I think of my outburst on Cooper’s video.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks a second time.
The waitress returns with our coffee. The thick, pungent liquid is placed in front of me before she walks away. The scent rises inside my nostrils and sets my stomach into a deep clench. Don’t, I bark silently. It ignores me, refusing to relax.
“I’m sure,” I reply reflexively, a forced smile forming on my lips.
“Okay. Good.” Eli expels a breath. “You’re better off without him, you know.”
“Whether I am or not, is not your call.” My tone is defensive as I stir sugar into my mug. What am I doing? I don’t drink my coffee with sugar. Eli frowns at my actions. He knows I don’t either.
“You’re right. It’s not,” he concedes with easy-going grace. “It’s just …”
“It’s just what, Eli?” I ask, impatient when he trails off and goes silent.
Eli’s cheekbones have sharpened over the years and there’s a thin scar across his brow that I never noticed before. His lips are full and always quick to grin, but they’re flat now. He’s pressing them together. “He never deserved you.”
His tone is accusatory and my body tightens with tension. “Has anyone stopped to think that maybe I never deserved him?”
I’m the one who can’t let go of the hurt. I’m the one crippled by fear. It’s me who holds tightly to the past despite numerous attempts from Jake to help me move on. He tried to keep me safe, even when I raged at him for letting me go. He’s the one I fucked so coldly before walking out the door, acting like it meant nothing. Yet he still loved me. Jake told me I was his universe, and he held me on the bathroom floor at Evie’s when I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. He held me so tight I felt maybe one day I would be okay as long as he kept holding me like that. I thought needing Jake made me weak, but I was wrong. He gave me strength. And I gave him nothing.
“Mac?” I tune back in. Eli is still talking. “Did you hear me?”
I blink, comprehension throbbing painfully at my temples. I pushed Jake away before he could do it to me a second time. I was convinced I had something to prove—to him, to my family, to myself—that I never needed anyone.
But I do.
I was convinced that nothing could break me.
But I’m already broken.
Jake was simply doing everything he could to piece me back together.
I stare blindly at the coffee before me, my eyes burning.
Eli reaches across the table and takes my hand. The contact is unfamiliar. I look down at our joined fingers. Eli’s palm is cool and somewhat rough, whereas Jake’s is always warm, his calluses thick and scratchy. I always thought them beautiful. Not just because of how they feel when he touches me, but because the hardened skin is a testament to the joy that drumming gives him.
I stand abruptly, breaking our contact. “I made a mistake.”
Eli’s voice is sharp. Confused. “You what?”
My legs wobble and my chest is tight. I grab the edge of the table as blackness edges my vision. Eli stands, reaching for me. The dizziness passes, and I bat his hand away.
His eyes harden as we stand across from each other. “You and Jake weren’t a mistake. You were a fucking train wreck. You think it’s been easy for me?”
My mouth drops open. “Think what’s been easy?”
“Watching you love that asshole,” Eli snaps, unleashing a burst of unexpected frustration all over me. His hands clench and thick veins pop over his wide knuckles. “Jake Romero took you from your family and then discarded you like trash. He broke you. And two years after you started getting your life back on track, he waltzes back in and fucks with you all over again. And we’ve all had to sit back and pretend we’re okay with it!”
Eli has me blindsided, as if I were crossing the road and got struck by a car out of nowhere. My phone rings and I speak over the top of it, indignant. “He didn’t take me from my family.”
It rings out and moments later it dings with another message from Mitch, the text showing up on my locked screen.
Mitch: Mac, it’s urgent. Call me.
“You should call your brother.” I look up. Eli’s gaze is on my phone, reading my message. “If he says it’s urgent, it’s urgent.”
Palming the device, I search for Mitch’s contact and dial.
“Mac,” he answers.
“What is it, Mitch?”
“Will you be at the loft tonight for Casey and Grace’s party?” He sounds breathless and his footsteps are loud thumps like he’s jogging down a set of stairs.
“Yes, I’m helping host while Grace is sick. Why?”
“No reason. Gotta go.”
He hangs up.
“What’s going on?” Eli asks.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” I reply and reach for my oversized bag where it rests on the ground between my chair and the table. “Either way, I don’t have time for my brother’s cryptic bullshit. I have to go.”
“Mac, I’m sorry.” Eli shakes his head and reaches for me. “Don’t go.”
I take a step back and his hand falls away. “It’s not … I just realised that I have something I need to take care of.”
“Mac!”
I’m already walking away, shouldering my bag. “We’ll reschedule,” I call out.
“Wait!” he calls back. “The file.”
I pause, turning. “The file?”
Eli grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. He tugs his wallet from the inside pocket and tosses a twenty on the table with an impatient gesture before jogging after me.