Page 111 of Old Acquaintances

“Ella,” he sighs like a warning.

“Thank you,” I repeat. I kiss his cheek. And the side of his closed eye. I lift and kiss his forehead, his nose, his chin.

He sighs against my mouth. “I kissed you like this in the hospital. When your parents weren’t looking.” A tear drips from his closed lashes. “I wanted to climb in that bed and hold you.”

I press tighter to him, kissing his shoulder, the tear on hischeek.

He puts his forehead on mine. “Ella, the only thing I was ever good at was taking care of you. But I was so messed up, I had to stay away. I couldn’t see you or talk to you without going through it all again. I knew you were safe and that was all I needed to know.”

I kiss the corner of his mouth, noticing his lips reach, like he wants to meet me halfway. My lips drag against his. I need him to kiss me to confirm that everything he said in the restaurant was a lie. If he found me and pulled me out of that car and refused to leave my side, then he cares. He might still want me. It’s might not be over.

Tucker jerks his mouth from mine. He whimpers, “I wish I could explain.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I was being selfish.” He hugs me closer. “But I had to become someone who didn’t love you in order to survive it all.”

I exhale into the dip of his throat.

“Youknowhow I felt about you.” He legs clasp mine, scooping them tighter.

“I can’t get any closer, Eli,” I breathe into him.

His hands don’t relax. He doesn’t stop making me as molded to him as possible and his tears silently fall. “Yes, you can.”

I do exactly what he said I couldn’t do in that position. I fall asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tucker

In some way, I always knew I loved her. Even as a little kid. When it was just me and my mom, the Moynes family became our family. We did everything together. Hal was like an uncle to me. Fiona was like an aunt. When I was a baby, Hattie liked to hold me, and I have a dozen pictures of her playing mom. Gracie ignored me mostly, until we were older, then we could at least talk about movies or dumb shit just to have something to say.

Ella was fucking annoying. She always cried about everything. If I stepped on her foot - cry. When I didn’t want to play with her - cry. She was so damn bossy all the time. She wanted to play her games her way and I didn’t do that. I didn’t cater to her or cave when she told me to. When she said she hated me, I said the only thing I could to piss her off.

“I love you, Ella.”

I don’t know when it became a joke or when I started to mean it. I know that when Christian married my mom I was seven, and he told me he’d always take care of her, and me. He bought us a nice house, he took us on vacations, and he liked being friends with the Moynes, too. He taught me how to fish and how to drive a boat. He took over for Hal as my little league baseball coach. He bought me a car and paid for my college. His sons became my brothers.

My mom didn’t want for anything. He rubbed her feet whenthey watched television and all she had to say was, “I think I want some ice cream,” and he’d be in the car. I understood my mom’s vulnerable situation as I got older, but she seemed so tough to me. I didn’t think she needed anyone to take care of her. That’s how I learned what love is. Christian didn’t check my mother’s tires every morning because she couldn’t do it herself. It’s because he would have died if something happened to her and he didn’t stop it.

Before middle school, I had been Ella’s friend reluctantly. Mostly I angered her because I called her out when she was wrong and told her not to be so bossy. She was always hitting me. I didn’t mind that. I liked getting under her skin. We’d play video games at Johnny’s house, and she’d sit in the corner with her doll. Or she’d play with her hair. Or she’d put stickers all over her face. I’d think,why is she here?

I had to see her at school, at my best-friend’s house, at her house, on my vacations. I couldn’t shake her. Before we started sixth grade, I asked what locker she got and snuck a note in it.I love you, Ella.She would know it was from me.

Her eyes when she saw it was silent vindication for me. For all of the times she called me stupid or forced me to eat lemon cake for my birthday or showed up somewhere when I told Johnny not to invite her. She was embarrassing. Now everyone else thought so, too.

This funny fucking thing happens in middle school, though.

Puberty.

I started to look at girls differently. My friends started to look at Ella. She was pretty, of course, like a sunset was pretty, but she wasElla. She was the kind of girl who went from ice cold to on fire in thirty seconds and the next thing you know she’s stripping off her Christmas Eve dress and beating you with it while her mother apologizes, “I’m so sorry about Ella, we’re working on getting her to use her words.”

I didn’t want anyone looking at her because she wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t desirable. She wasn’tforthem. No one should do to her what we learned about in seventh-grade sex education. They should keep their fucking hands off of her and keep their mouths shut. She wasn’t special to them like she was special to me.

The game started as a way to tease her.

Then, it became a way tokeepher.

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