I give her a quick hug and rush to find Ellie, filling Kate in on the way and telling her to keep Liam inside. Kate salutes me and storms toward them, grabbing Malcolm as her backup.
Stepping out of the enclosed foggy porch, I see Ellie yelling and stomping in the middle of the front yard. A pile of smashed pumpkins at her feet.
Approaching cautiously I call out to her as she throws another pumpkin down on the ground. “Ellie!” She doesn’t respond, continuing to stomp and smash and yell. “Eleanor!” Still no response. I close the distance between us, standing close enough to make my presence known but far enough not to intrude. She slows down, no longer yelling after a few more minutes, but keeps smashing until every pumpkin in the pile is in pieces.
She comes to a stop, panting and looking up at the sky. I wait, not sure what to say or how to fix it. I could kick this guy’s teeth in for showing up here.
After another moment she faces me, tears in her eyes but still not speaking.
“What do you need?” I ask, careful to respect her emotional processing. Remembering that she told me everyone processes things differently and sometimes the best thing to do is ask how we can help them instead of assuming a solution.
No response, just tears.
“Can I hug you?”
She nods and I close the gap between us in two strides, wrapping her up in my arms. She starts crying into my chest, knees almost buckling as she holds onto me. I lower both of us to the ground and hold her as close as humanly possible, letting her cry.
I want to kiss her, and tell her what she means to me—reassure her that she’s not alone. But sometimes words aren’t enough. Words aren’t what we need. So I just hold her, knowing it’s not the time for me to be the hero. I just hope me being here is healing enough, in this moment.
Her crying slows. “I’m a mess,” she whispers into my chest.
“You are not a mess, that guy is just a douche and blindsided you at your own party.” I stroke her hair with one hand, holding her against me with the other.
“He is a douche.” She groans.
Another moment of silence goes by and I ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know what to say.” She lifts her head, her eyes red and wet. Wiping the tears and her hair out of her face as she looks at me.
“Just tell me what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t want to know . . .” She points to her head with both hands. “It’s angry up here.”
“I want to know . . .” I take her hands in my mind. “Your thoughts don’t scare me. They don’t define you. It’s what you do with them that shows who you truly are.”
“What doesthatsay about me?” She gestures to the pumpkin remains scattered on the ground.
“Smashing pumpkinsdoessay a lot about a person’s character,” I joke. We both laugh and her face brightens a tiny bit, the anger fading.
“Are you sure you want this?” she asks, her voice breaking. “An angry woman in your life? No one wants that.” Looking down at her hands held in mine, tracing her thumb along my knuckles she hesitates. “You . . . you don’t need me . . .”
“You’re right.” She looks up at me, offended. “I might notneedyou . . .” Pressing her hands up to my mouth, I whisper against her fingers, “But Idowant you. And you want me. Angry pumpkin massacre or not, I’m in this. Period.”
Chapter twenty-one
Ellie
“Goodmorning,everyone.”Liamsays, traipsing into the kitchen like he’s not the worst thing I could possibly see first thing in the morning.
Emma and I refuse to acknowledge his presence and continue sipping our coffee.
“Gotta get the coffee,” he chirps as he man-handles the coffee pot.
Sloshing, clinking, pouring.
“This looks delicious!” He eyes the breakfast spread Emma prepared for everyone before helping himself to the fresh fruit and crunchy bacon, and then opening the refrigerator and cabinets, banging stuff around as he prepares his plate.
You know those people? The ones who seem to make noise with every single sudden movement? That’s Liam.
