Page 151 of Ripped & Shipped
“I saw a lot. What happened to Alex was the worst of it, but there was just … so much.”
Ella Mae nods, placing her hand on my knee.
“Then I came home, naively thinking I could seamlessly blend right back into my friend group. Brooks was there. I had never met him. People had gotten married. I mean, Trevor and Lexi had a baby. Trevor and Lexi. That blew my mind. And Shannon and Duke were together behind my back. It took me a long time to feel like Bordeaux was home again.”
Ella Mae’s lips draw into a thin line. Her eyes soften with compassion. She doesn’t say anything, leaving me room to say whatever else I need to get off my chest.
I only have one more thing to say, and it’s the most important thing for her to hear.
“I guess I didn’t really feel like I had truly come home until we started faking. And that feeling kept growing over the past few months. Once we told one another how we really felt—that was it. That was the moment I truly came home.”
The smallest smile starts to emerge on Ella Mae’s face. Her brows draw up and her eyes meet mine with such compassion and understanding. We’re two misfits, strong-willed, difficult at times, but somehow, we fit with one another.
“You’re my home too, Chris,” she says.
I turn my head toward her and she leans up and places a soft kiss on my lips.
When she pulls away, she says, “Now fess up, Soldier. You started that hashtag, didn’t you?”
“No. I really didn’t.”
Ella Mae’s mouth drops open.
“Then, who?”
“Jayme.”
“Jayme?”
“Yep. Jayme.”
CHAPTER50
Ella Mae
“Chris,why are you pulling into Aiden’s driveway?”
Our flight here was four and half hours, but with the time change and the hour drive from Columbus, it’s nearly dinnertime. I just want to get home, shower, and fall into bed. I’ll figure out my life a little more tomorrow. Maybe.
I look around. Cars are scattered everywhere, up and down the driveway and on the gravel near the goat enclosure.
“Chris, whatever this is, it’s a bad idea. I just need to go home, wash up, and have a little time to decompress in my own house.”
He looks over at me, obviously too stubborn to give up whatever he’s got in mind to do.
“Do you trust me?”
It’s a simple question. In context right now, I’m inclined to say no. But do I trust this man? That’s a no-brainer.
“You might be one of three people in the world I trust. Yes. I trust you.”
He puts the car in park and looks over at me.
“Then, just follow me.”
Before I can argue, Chris hops out of the driver’s side of his truck and comes around to help me out. He extends his hand and I take it. Chris weaves our fingers together. He pauses, smiling down at me. Then he bends in and kisses me softly.
“What you’re about to hear … I want you to know it’s not me. I’ve got plenty I want to say to you, but this … well, it’s not me.”
