“That’s all blurry. I’d had way too much of that whiskey. It was a good thing I shared some of it,” he said.
“Do you remember our talk at all?” I asked, feeling a little deflated that it was blurry for him. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like I had dwelled on it over the past year. Just because he was here with me in the moonlight walking down the beach with his new brooding and mysterious sex appeal . . . no big deal.
I chanced a glance at him, and he was smirking. It wasn’t a smile. The smirk didn’t even crinkle his eyes. No real amusement in its appearance. More like he remembered it but it held no importance to him and he seemed to understand I wanted it to. If that even made sense.
“The way you smell. I remembered that. It’s the same.”
Not the response I was expecting. I needed him to elaborate on that. Did I smell bad? Did he like it? Did he think about it often? Come on Eli . . . I’m a female, I need more.
I waited. He said nothing.
“That’s all. My smell,” I coaxed finally.
When I thought he wasn’t going to say more, he slowed to a stop and looked up at the moon then toward me. I’d also stopped walking. “I believe I told you that you looked hot as fuck.” He added that bit as if we were talking about the weather. He didn’t turn to see my expression or flash me a teasing grin. He seemed to be thinking of something completely different than the conversation we were having. His profile was hard, masculine, and the lack of interest pouring off him sent out a challenge I didn’t think he realized. Add that thick, deep voice and he most likely got girls naked within seconds. No, no, no . . . stop that. I was not going to think about sex with Eli. I WAS NOT. He certainly wasn’t thinking about it with me. Where was my pride, for crying out loud? I was better than this.
“You did say that,” I replied, finally remembering his drunken words and how at the time I thought he was sweet. A word so foreign to the man in front of me now. There was nothing sweet left in him.
“I was so fucking naïve,” he said, more thoughtful now. His eyes held a seriousness in them. A knowledge of things the old Eli didn’t possess. What had this Eli seen, done, experienced that changed him so much? His head turned toward me then. Our eyes meeting. It frightened me somewhat. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but like earlier, it seemed like he was searching for more.
I stood there letting the waves crashing behind us be the only sound. Although the way he studied me so intently made me feel exposed. I also knew there was nothing I truly had to hide from him. Allowing him to search for whatever he seemed to want to find was hard, but I remained still. And I did some searching of my own.
It was me who broke eye contact first. My chest ached from something I couldn’t explain and for a moment I missed the guy I’d never gotten to know. He wasn’t inside there anymore.
“It’s probably safe to return,” Eli said. “They’ve all got to leave eventually.”
Then he started walking back.
I didn’t follow right away. I watched him for a few moments while I mentally scolded myself for being affected by him so much. I had one objective and that had been to rescue him from his family. I’d done that. It was over. There was no reason to long for his company when he obviously wasn’t desiring mine.
There was a good chance I wouldn’t see Eli Hardy again for months or even years. Our paths had no real reason to cross. The thought wasn’t the relief it was meant to be. Instead, I missed him already.
He stopped walking and glanced back at me. The darkness shadowed his face. I began to move in the direction he was toward the house. He waited until I caught up to him then fell into step beside me. No words. Nothing more.
It was as odd as he was but also comforting. I didn’t feel like I had to say anything or that talk was expected of me. We just walked on in silence.
MAY 25 / 10:23 AM
Eli Hardy
DISTANCE. I NEEDED some distance. From everyone’s fear, concern, tears, all of it. This morning wasn’t even over and yet it felt like days since we’d been in the waiting room. There were still hours left to go. At least that was what we had been told to expect.
Getting outside of the hospital and its smell that brought back all the times I’d basically lived in one while Bliss had been there. The smell triggered memories I didn’t want to think about. The last time I’d stepped in a hospital had been the hardest moments a man could face. My soul had been ripped from me. I would never be the same. Yet, facing another kind of pain, I was back inside the walls of one while the sorrow from my past taunted me.