Page 17 of Dare To Live

Eli bares his teeth, snapping them together at me. “Did you run out of charity cases back home?”

“Don’t be dramatic.” I roll my eyes.

“I’m being dramatic? You’re the one on my fucking doorstep just because I’ve got a cold.”

“From the way you’re coughing, it sounds like it’s more than a cold.”

“Then fuck off and just let me die in peace. I’ll see you at my funeral.”

“Stop acting like a baby. I do care about you, Eli. Just because we aren’t together, doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

A nerve jerks in his jaw. “Bullshit.” He winces and closes his eyes.

“Are you in pain?”

“No.”

I sigh. “Eli.”

He’s silent for a second, then he scowls. “My head hurts, okay?”

“Where do you keep your painkillers?”

“Bathroom cabinet.”

I turn to walk along the hallway, in search of the bathroom. There are doors I don’t remember, and the hallway splits off at the end. On the drive up, I’d seen buildings around the cabin that I don’t recall being there the last time I was here. But it’s been ten years, and I guess more has changed than just how the boy I’d loved looks now.

I still can’t believe he’s living out here like some kind of a hermit.

Memories of the week we’d spent here for spring break spill into my thoughts—Eli’s hands and mouth on my body, and the way he’d made me scream with pleasure. I shut them down, and concentrate on what I need to do, instead of the echo of desire heating my body.

I find the bottle of painkillers in the medicine cabinet above the sink, and tip two out. In the kitchen, I take down a glass, fill it with water and bring it back to my patient.

“Here.” I hold out the pills.

He sits up, takes them from me, accepts the glass of water and swallows them down, then hands it back to me.

“Now get the fuck out.”

“Not happening.” I leave the glass on the table and collect the bags I’ve left by the door. “Roger said you had frozen food, but I bought some things while waiting for him to pick me up.”

“What part of fuck off aren’t you getting? I don’t want anything from you. He can take you back to wherever you’ve sprung up from.”

“Too late. He’s gone.”

“Fuck’s sake. Then I’ll drive you to town.” He tries to rise, only to fall back onto the couch with another coughing fit.

“When you’re strong enough to kick me out, I’ll go.”

He glowers at me. “There’s nothing fucking wrong with me.”

I ignore him and carry the bags through to the kitchen. I spread out all the ingredients for chicken soup over the counter, and put away the meat, vegetables, Christmas cake, and the rest of the shopping.

All is quiet in the main room, and when I walk back in, I discover Eli has passed out on the couch. I’d been ready for his anger and his hate. It’s something I’ve experienced before, but I’m not the naïve eighteen-year-old girl I’d once been. I have armor against the world now.

I’m still unable to resist reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair off his face, though. Even asleep, he looks fierce. I search his features for the boy I loved. There are hints of him beneath the beard.

My Nasty Little Monster is still there. He’s just become bigger and older and angrier. I’m sure that he hates me now, just as hard as he had before he loved me.

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