“Elijah Notes,” he answers. “And you’re not going to talk to her like that.”
Something like amusement flickers across Bethany’s mouth. “Well, ain’t that precious.”
She stands up slow, all grace and poison. She laughs loud enough for the waitress to hear and for half the diner to pretend they didn’t. “Girls like you always think attention from a married man means something,” she tells me like she’s giving advice. “You’ll learn.”
Then she walks out like she won.
I don’t rise to it. I don’t cry. I don’t give her what she wants.
But when the bell jingles behind her and the air settles again, my chest feels hollowed out, like her words scraped something out of me and took it with her.
Elijah watches me for a long beat. “That’s… her,” he says quietly.
I nod once, barely.
His thumb strokes my knuckle again, grounding. “Come home with me,” he says softly. “Not for that. Not like that. We’ll watch a movie.”
“Netflix and chill?” I bristle.
“No. No funny business,” he says. “Just… don’t be alone tonight.”
I should say no.
I should get in my car, drive home, lock my doors twice, and sleep with my phone on my chest like I’ve been doing.
Instead, I believe him. I swallow and whisper, “Okay.”
And for the first time, when Oaks’ name tries to rise in my mind like a bruise pressed too hard, I shove it down.
I push it away.
Because Elijah is clean and present and not pretending I don’t exist, and I’m so tired of feeling like a ghost in my own life.
Chapter 12
Oaks
I don’t like the way Elijah Notes stands.
That’s the first thing I clock, not his church-boy smile or the clean shirt or the way he keeps his hands visible like he’s harmless. It’s the stance. Too balanced. Too aware. Like a man who knows where the exits are and how fast he can move if he needs to.
He ain’t soft.
He just plays it.
I’m across the street from the county line diner before dusk, sitting where I can see the windows without being seen, bike angled out for a quick exit. Brittany’s inside. I can tell which laugh is hers even through glass, because it hits different. It sounds like she forgot, for half a second, that Hell eats girls whole.
Elijah’s with her. Leaning in. Offering her something clean like he’s handing her a towel after a storm. A fucking bitch tsunami called my ol’ lady who I followed here.
She looks lighter than she’s looked in weeks.
That should make me feel better.
It doesn’t.
Because Hell doesn’t stop once it picks a girl, and Pearly Gates doesn’t circle unless it’s ready to take.
Elijah steps out first like he’s on guard duty. He sees me coming and he don’t flinch. He don’t act surprised.
