Page 38 of Wrecked for Love
I sighed. “Okay, it was just a white lie. I don’t like revealing too much about myself. You know…stalker danger. Like that guy back there. What’s his deal? He said he was Little Vossy.”
Elia scoffed. “If that asshole bothers you again, you come to me. Or better yet, it might be time to use that gun of yours.”
“Hear, hear,” I said, trying to play it cool, though the idea of ever needing to use my gun again didn’t sit well with me.
“So, where are you really from?” he asked, his tone softer now, more curious than accusatory.
I wrestled with myself. Should I tell him? What’s the harm? New York felt like a lifetime ago. Did I want to open that door?
My thoughts whirled, weighing the pros and cons. Elia seemed trustworthy, but trust was something I didn’t hand out easily anymore. Still, there was something about his honesty, his straightforwardness, that made me feel like I could let my guard down.
“I’m from New York,” I confessed.
Elia raised an eyebrow. “New York? For real?”
“Yep.”
“Wouldn’t have guessed that.”
I smirked. “Do I come off too hillbilly?”
He chuckled, the sound low and easy. “A little. But that’s not the point.” He paused for a beat before continuing, “So, what did you do back in New York?”
“I was a professional dog groomer, I worked as a pet shop assistant, and in between, I did some pet sitting—plants, too, when needed. I’ve always loved flowers. But my real dream was to study to become a vet.”
“Not bad,” he said, though his face shifted into something more thoughtful. “We don’t have a university here. Our local vet? He studied in Pullman, Washington.”
“Huh…”
“Just throwing it out there. Pullman’s a lot closer than New York.”
“I don’t really want to be far from here.” The idea of going back to a big city didn’t sit right anymore.
“Buffaloberry’s got that much of a hold on you, huh?” he commented. “Guess you’re not ready to share why you left New York?”
I shook my head. “Not really.” I didn’t explain further, but a shift flickered inside me—a subtle nudge, reminding me of something he’d promised back then. “Hey, you said if I told you where I’m from, you’d tell me about your family.”
He scoffed. “You remember that?” He glanced away for a second, then his voice softened. “Well…my parents died. Mom went first. Throat cancer.” His words were steady, but there was an unmistakable heaviness in them. “Dad followed not long after. And my little brother—he moved out. Haven’t heard from him in a while.”
A slow exhale left him, like he was weighing whether to say more. But he didn’t. Instead, he waited, maybe expecting me to steer the conversation elsewhere.
“And your sister?” I asked, recalling the beautiful girl with blue eyes and blonde hair from the photos I wasn’t supposed to see.
It was practically a confession, and Elia’s reaction was instant—surprise, then something I didn’t expect. Pain. “How did you know?”
I hesitated for a moment, fearing he’d lose it if I admitted to my late-night snooping. But I confessed anyway. “I, uh…naked truth? I saw your photo album when I stayed in your room. Sorry.”
“Oh, Claire!” He sighed, annoyance flashing briefly before fading into something gentler, like I was someone who could do no wrong. “My sister—she passed away.”
I absorbed the weight of his words. There was so much sorrow there, and I felt it settle between us like an invisible thread connecting our losses. I wanted to say something comforting, something to ease the grief that clung to him, but the words didn’t come. Instead, I just sat and let the moment stretch out, knowing that sometimes silence speaks louder than anything else.
Then Elia pulled out his wallet and reached into it.
“What, is there a café hidden around here somewhere? You’re treating me to lunch? That would be a secret within a secret within a secret,” I said, trying to break the tension.
He glanced at me. “You’re thinking about lunch already?”
Before I could comment, he fished something out of the coin compartment, and I went completely speechless.
