“You’re welcome.”
Bennett does not stick around to attempt to speak with Elijah again, and he barely glances at either of us during the exchange.
After he’s walked away, I turn my grin back onto a flushed Elijah and chuckle lowly.“Think he’s curious as to what it is you were about to say?”
Elijah groans. “Eat your damn eggs, Rowan.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Elijah
Several months later
It looks like that article you wrote about Rowan did pretty well,” John comments, peering down at the laptop I bought him for Christmas last year.
He has our website pulled up, and in the comment section under said article are several messages debating the quality of Rowan’s work—and surprisingly, most of them are positive.
“Most of the people in town are still pretty rude to him, but the more he mingles, the more they seem to lighten up,” I add, smiling softly at the black and white portrait of Rowan that accompanies the writing on screen.
“You did a great thing for him, Eli.”
“The article wasyouridea, John,” I chuckle, walking away from his desk to place a folder in his filing cabinet.
We’ve just finished a series of interviews following Fort Myer’s Easter celebration, and John prefers to have paper logs of everything we do.
Sometimes I wonder why I bothered wasting money on that laptop after all.
“I’m not talkin’ bout that. I meant you getting him out of his house. Everyone can see that it’s your influence behind why he’s so much more sociable lately,” John insists.
“Well,I’mcertainly not sitting inside all day, every day,” I joke.
John makes a humming noise in the back of his throat, once again absorbed into his work.
I make my way back to my station, taking a moment to check my phone for any missed messages. My screen is void of notifications, but I don’t mind.
Rowan has been pretty busy lately—he was gone for two weeks taking photos of different national parks, and now he’s stuck at home editing them. Apparently, he’s working forCallie and Casey’sPhotography Outletat the moment.
They were a big fan of the work he entered into their contest, obviously, so it’s not surprising the amount they were willing to pay him for this booklet they’re putting together.
Rowan has only been home for a week now, so I’ve only seen him twice. But we spent our birthday, the weeks leading up to Christmas, and New Year’s together.
On Valentine’s Day, he took me back to Cocktails and Consonances and even got onto the stage and sang a duet with me. He wasterrible, and the entire experience was amazing.
Since the night of the fall festival, the two of us have been inseparable. Outside of the romantic moments where I find him watching me from his truck or random benches, taking myphoto, we go out for dinner, lie together while we read, play cards, and drink beer.
I’ve found that my tolerance for alcohol has increased—my anxiety has lessened more and more over the past few months. I still have a hard time around sharp objects, and I don’t even want tothinkabout heights, but progress is progress.
And I think a large part of that progression is Rowan himself. He is a walking anti-anxiety diffuser, constantly calming and placating me.
He is convinced it has everything to do with ourpast, and with every day that passes, I believe him more.
Actually, I believe that I’m mostly convinced at this point.
I haven’t had any more prolific dreams or visions, but with each one that Rowan has, he will call me or show up at my doorstep, ready to rehash every detail.
And every time he sinks into my body, or I feel his steady heart beating against my skin as he holds me at night, some small part of me screams with awareness. As if I, too, am returning home to him.
I’ve begun to feel a string tied tightly around my pinky, pulled taut whenever he roams too far.
