But first I had to win her back, and the only way to do that was by resurrecting the boy from the past she couldn’t resist. I could behimagain if I just picked up the sticks. Yet there was some invisible force holding me back. Since when had they become my kryptonite? They were just sticks, nothing more. The power in them came from me. From what I could do with them. I alone could bring them back to life.
Reaching down, I snagged my old sticks from their dusty coffin.
Bring it on.
15
GRACE: CURB APPEAL
Elliott and I didn’t make it through the night of the shooting. That was when I officially clocked out of the relationship. Not that he knew at that point, but I did. I just needed to figure out a way to break it to him. It was easy to blame our demise on the visit from Rory, but the truth was I’d had doubts well before his reappearance. Moving into my parents’ place was the beginning of our end. Rory just closed the door behind us.
But breaking up with Elliott in my mind was not the same as breaking up with him in person. It took weeks for me to summon the courage. Weeks of getting my talking points in order. Weeks of watching him grow closer to my family. But I finally gathered up my bravery and did it. I sat him down and told him the truth of how I was feeling, that the relationship just wasn’t working for me, and that I wanted to go our separate ways. Elliott was quiet. Emotional. He fought for us. And then, in the end, he said he wouldn’t accept the breakup.
Like, he totally refused.
I’d had a few of short-lived boyfriends in college and had become familiar with the breakup process. From what I could recall, it had been fairly straightforward. One of us said we weren’t feeling it. The other left. The end.
But Elliott? Oh no. He wasn’t leaving until certain demands were met. The main one was that I had to give him a month to win me back. Why a month? Because that was when his visa ran out and he had to return to England anyway. So romantic. The original plan had been that I would return with him, and we would travel through Europe until the waiting period was over and we could fly back to the States and get an apartment together. Now he would return home alone on his nonrefundable, unchangeable plane ticket. When his visa ran out.
And when that time came, he insisted, I’d be on that plane with him. I was adamant I wouldn’t.
That was when the games began.
* * *
“No, no, no.”Elliott swooped in to grab the platter of fruit and cheese out of my hands on his way back from the bedroom where he’d gone to change into basketball shorts. “Graduation girl doesn’t need to lift a finger on her special day.”
My college graduation fell during Elliott’s grace period. Actually, it was an informal graduation, as I’d completed all my courses in the middle of the year and had to wait until the summer to actually walk. But that didn’t stop my parents from prematurely celebrating my accomplishment anyway.
It was a festive affair. Quinn had been out of the hospital for well over month and was recovering in the pool house at our parents’ home. It wasn’t what he’d wanted, but the little apartment he shared with Jess and her son was wholly inadequate for the deluge of reporters and fans that descended upon him. Sketch Monsters, a new band before the shooting, suddenly saw its songs soar to the top of the charts, including the one I’d written. Quinn had everything he’d ever wanted—fame, fortune, and his name in lights beside our brother’s—but the sacrifices made to get the band there were also tearing him apart.
Elliott might still be hoping to win me back and take me on that trip to Europe, but there was no way I was leaving Quinn in his current state. Or mine. Nightmares plagued my sleep, making returning to a normal routine nearly impossible, but I kept my own issues at bay to be a rock for those who really needed it.
“Ah, thanks. Are you sure?” I cooed to Elliott, not waiting for the answer as I relinquished the fruit platter to him and slid back onto the bar stool next to Emma.
“Of course, anything for you, luv,” Elliott cheerfully replied. “I’m heading outside anyway. Stay and chat with your sister.”
Balancing the tray, he winked at Emma, then bent down to kiss my cheek.
“You’re the best,” I said, trying not to laugh at the absolute, over-the-top show of awesomeness he was displaying for my family’s benefit. They didn’t know we were broken up—another one of his demands. I suppose his plan was to make them adore him so much that if he was going down, I’d be right there with him.
“Oh, and babe?” I stopped him in his mid-jog out the door. There was a game of pickup basketball about to start, and I knew he didn’t want to miss it. “Did you get me my lip gloss?”
“Your what?”
“My lip gloss,” I repeated patiently. “You know, the one with the cute little bear holding a clover. I asked you to get it for me when you ran by on your way to the room.”
He stopped, tray in hand, his eyes narrowing. “No, I don’t recall you asking.”
“Oh, I did. Remember, Emma?” I turned to my sister but didn’t wait on her reply. This was the first time Emma was hearing the request too. But if Elliott was going to kill me with kindness, I would ricochet it right back at him. “I really do need my gloss.”
“Right. You want some lip balm featuring a bear holding a meat cleaver, am I hearing you correctly?”
“Not quite.” I was overly patient in my reply. “It’s a clover. You know, like a four-leaf one?”
“And you need it right this instant?”
“I mean, my lips are really chapped.”
