A soft laugh bubbled from her lips. She tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling, shaking her head like we were both ridiculous.
“And?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“They’re ready to get in line to kick Miles’s ass.”
That pulled a real laugh from her. But then she looked back at me, her voice more careful this time. “What about Boone?”
I hesitated for just a beat. Then I looked down at where my hand rested on her leg, my thumb still moving.
“I told him how I feel about you.”
Her breath caught.
I looked up—into her eyes—and didn’t look away.
“I told him that I loved you. That I’d always be there to protect you, no matter what the consequence. I think he was happy to hear it.”
She let out a soft sigh, the corners of her mouth tugging up as she bit down gently on her bottom lip.
“Good,” she murmured.
A quiet moment passed between us—thick, meaningful, full of things unsaid. I didn’t know what to say next. The entire time I’d been working through my internal dialogue, I’d bracedmyself for a different outcome. For the conversation where she told me she was done. That whatever this was between us, it had been too much, too fast. I’d been ready to fight for her.
But there was no fight.
No anger.
Just calm. Grace. A kind of peace she’d found on her own, in her own time, after talking it out with the people she found support in.
I was grateful I came.
Grateful to see her like this, solid and soft and okay.
Not shattered. Not curled up on the floor.
Still standing. StillEllie.
“I came here ready to say a whole bunch of things,” I admitted, exhaling. “Honestly, I thought you were going to be pissed at me.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, shifting on the couch until she was sitting up, facing me now, her legs crossed, her blanket slipping down to her lap. I adjusted too, my posture relaxing, legs open as I leaned back, arm slung over the back of her couch.
“You were crying. We’d been caught up in so much, so fast, and I never got a real chance to check in with you. I didn’t know if you were okay, and that scared the hell out of me.”
She nodded, her expression soft. “For a moment… yeah, I was mad. But I think it was mostly adrenaline. Shock. Everything hit me at once and the tears just happened. I’m not mad at you for reacting the way you did,” she said gently. “Just… where you did it.”
Ellie paused, but I could see the thoughts swirling behind her eyes, so I didn’t interrupt. I gave her space, sat in the silence, and let her choose when to speak.
“My first thought was:What is everyone going to think?” she admitted, voice low, almost ashamed. “Ellie Cassidy, again. Stirring things up. Must be the problem. I made it aboutthem. About how they’d perceive me. Not about what actually happened.”
Her gaze dropped to her lap. “It’s ridiculous. I know I can’t control what people think. I could be perfect, hell, Itryto be perfect, and still, someone’s going to have something to say.”
Hearing that, how my reaction had triggered something old, something painful, the guilt settled heavier in my chest. I hadn’t thought about that part. About how public it had been. How that might’ve dragged her back into battles she’d been trying to leave behind.
“But I talked it through,” she said, lifting her eyes again. “With Aspen. Penny. Theo. I told them everything. And the more I said it out loud, the clearer it became how much I’ve lived under the weight of other people’s opinions. Their expectations. Their assumptions. I was shaping my world around them, not me.”
She gave a short, dry laugh and shook her head, tucking her hair behind both ears. “It’s wild. I didn’t even realize how much I’d let them get in my head.”
“It’s not wild,” I said quietly. “I know this isn’t about me, but… I get it. People act like there’s one right way to be. One way to deal. But everyone’s walking around with a different story, different pain. What’sstandarddoesn’t exist.”
