Page 119 of Love Notes & Lifelines
“That’s great. Thanks, Elijah. Make sure you mention the moving stipend.”
“I did.” The damn guy leans toward the camera, resting his chin in his palm with a huge-ass grin on his face while I shift uncomfortably. He always knows when I’m having an internal struggle and it’s freaking irritating as hell.
The silence stretches, so I pretend to be going through paperwork then shake my head and ask, “Do you think I trust you?”
His burst of laughter makes me cringe. “Of course you trust me. We wouldn’t work if you didn’t. Trust may come with boundaries for you, but you do trust me. You have since we were ten.”
Stella was right.
“Is that all?” he asks.
“That’s it. I’m making some jellyfish lantern or something with the girls now.”
“The girls? My, how your life has changed, Becker Hayes.”
I open my mouth to defend myself, but defend myself from what? He’s right.
“Relax, it’s a good thing. It’s a really good thing. I was worried about you for a while.”
Itisa good thing. I’m happy for the first time in years, the kind of happy that comes from making other people a priority and not just dollar signs or objects to own.
“Okay,” he says, “go to arts and crafts. I’ll call you after I check out those accounts you sent me.”
“Thanks again, Elijah.”For everything—especially Stella.
As if reading my mind he asks, “How’s Stella?”
“She’s good. She’s great with the girls, but her mom isn’t doing well.”
“Dementia is a hard disease.”
He doesn’t know the half of it. I’ve read three damn books and none of them have been all that helpful.
My knee bounces beneath the desk. “Yeah. It is.”
“You have a good thing going there, Beck. Don’t screw it up with your penchant for self-sabotage.”
My nose wrinkles in indignation before I can stop it. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s how you’ve lived for the last few years. You don’t allow people to get close, but Stella isn’t just anyone—she’s who you need. Take care of each other.”
“I love her,” I blurt. The words that used to sting like a curse are slowly beginning to heal like a promise.
“Have you told her that?”
“Yes.” I sound petulant. Why does it feel like I’m talking to my father?
“Wow, I’m impressed. But remember, she’s searching for stability, even if she doesn’t know it. So don’t do anything to fuck that up. I love you, Beck, but I love her too.”
My chest heats with the possessive streak that’s becoming a second skin.
“I’ve got to go. Let me know what you find,” I say, pulling away from my desk.
“You got it. Give everyone a hug for me.”
“I will. Thank you, Elijah.”
He’s silent for a moment, and I chastise myself for being an ass. He’s been the one constant in my life for years and I fear I’ve taken him for granted more than once.
