Page 116 of Behind the Bars

“What are you doing here?” he askeddryly.

He was talking tome.

Goodsign.

“I, um, I just, I thought,I—”

“What is it, Jasmine?” he asked, his voice soundingdefeated.

“Whiskey?” I asked, holding up thebottle.

“It’s eight in themorning.”

“If you have coffee, we can put it in that,” Ijoked.

He didn’t move an inch. His eyes peered into mine, and I gave him a slight smile. “I just thought you shouldn’t bealone.”

“I told you, I’mokay.”

“Yes, but still…” I shrugged my shoulders and held the bottle up a little higher. “Whiskey?”

His mouth twitched, and then he stepped to the side, allowing me to walkinside.

I tried to hide my shock, but I took the opportunity when he gave it tome.

Elliott headed straight to the kitchen, pulled out two mugs, and started a pot ofcoffee.

I hung my coat and purse on the back of a chair then took aseat.

The only sound in the whole apartment was the brewing coffee, and once it finished, he filled the mugs then splashed each one withwhiskey.

“Thank you,” Isaid.

He noddedonce.

“So,” Istarted.

He leaned his back against the refrigerator and shook his head. “I don’t want to t-talk.” He swallowed hard and blinked his eyes closed. “Please.”

“Okay.” I shifted around in my chair, my fingers tapping against the side of the glass. “I don’t want to cross a line by stopping by, Elliott, especially on a day like today. So, if you need me to leave, I cango.”

His eyes stayed shut, and I watched him take a deepinhale.

He didn’t say a word, but when he opened his eyes, they told me exactly what I wished his lips wouldsay.

Stay.

I stayed with him throughout the morning, afternoon, and night. We moved from the kitchen to the living room, and sometimes back and forth, not once exchanging words. That day we used silence as our voices. We used darkness as our healing, and Elliott used me as his anchor. I understood Elliott that day, how he needed the silence yet still needed someonenearby.

He didn’t need words. He just needed the space to feel what he needed to feel, with me present as a reminder that he wasn’talone.

When midnight hit, he stood up and walked to the front door. I tossed on my coat and my purse and followed his steps. Our goodbye was calm, just as it had been the day before. We didn’t embrace, didn’t even say goodbye. I just walked down the steps, ready to let go, but then he called meback.

“Jasmine.”

I turned to see him looking down toward me. “Yes?”

“Ask me about her?” he said in the form of aquestion.

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