Eli goes back outside and it baffles me how used to the cold this Black man is. I run to the living room to grab a throw from his sofa and wrap it around me before grabbing the wine I poured for us.
I step out onto the deck, two wine glasses in hand, and pass one to Eli.
“Thanks,” he says softly, taking a sip.
“No problem. You’re making dinner—the least I can do is replenish your beverage, kind sir,” I tease with a smile.
“Kind,” he echoes with a mock grimace, like the word physically offends him.
“Don’t worry, Bear. I’ll keep your secret,” I say, clinking my glass gently against his.
I glance out over the land, and it takes my breath away all over again. Rolling hills. Pines that sway gently like they’re slow dancing. And behind the house, tucked just far enough away to feel like a secret, is the lake. It glints in the low light like it’s been waiting for me to see it.
And maybe it’s the silence, or the wine, but I want to ask the question that’s been poking at me since the boutique.
“So, are your brother and Vanessa serious? Because, based on how he was looking at me, getting into my space, it didn’t seem like they werethatserious.”
Eli’s back stiffens. His grip on the spatula tightens and his voice comes out clipped. “My brother isn’t serious about anything. He’s always been the fun one. The class clown. The only one who could get my mother to laugh or smile when she was having a bad day.”
I pause, taking another slow sip of my wine. “I see.”
They look so much alike—Eli and his brother. But everything else about them is night and day. Where Elliott is sugar, Eli is salt.
It’s obvious Eli didn’t just become this version of himself by accident. He became it by necessity. With a brother who shrugged off responsibility and a mother who leaned too hard on her dependable son to fill the cracks, Eli had no choice but to become the one who held everything together. Sometimesthat meant cleaning up Elliott’s messes. Sometimes it meant swallowing his own needs whole.
It’s scary how much I understand what he must be going through. And I start to wonder—how many times has Eli been the one overlooked for the shinier option? The easier one. The charming one. How many times has he been passed over because he wasn’t built for show, but for the long haul? And what has that cost him?
“At the risk of sounding childish or immature,” I begin, “can I ask you something?”
Eli glances at me with that crooked smirk that always teeters between teasing and protective. “It’s never stopped you before.”
“Fair point,” I say, grinning. “Why do you put everyone else’s needs before your own so much?”
He frowns, confused. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Yes, you do,” I insist softly. “You're excellent at recognizing how I put others first, yet you seem willfully blind to the fact that you do the exact same thing. I see how you prioritize everyone: your mom, the women you bring into your den of desire.”
That makes him smile.
“Even your work—the way you manage your staff, the way you take care of me—it’s the same pattern. You have no problem putting yourself last on every list that matters.”
“I’m a leader, Max,” he says, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. “And besides, it’s different for men.”
I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes. “Different how?”
“It just is. It’s how I was raised. If your people need you—if the people you care about need you—you show up. You do whatever it takes. Period.”
“And it has nothing to do with your own need to be needed?”
His jaw ticks. “The fuck are you getting at, Max?”
I shift closer. I’m not trying to provoke him. I just want him to actually hear me. The double-edged sword of being someonewho is always “on” for everyone else is that you recognize the symptoms in others. You see the remedy they’re starving for long before you have the courage to name it for yourself.
Boundaries.
Safety.
Release.
