The Plight Before Christmas(78)

“Just a bad week,” he swears.

I run my fingers along his jaw. “I’m sorry you had a bad week.”

“Jesus, Whitney,” he buries his face in my neck. “I’m fucking failing at deserving you.”

“Then be a nicer boyfriend,” I say, partly in jest as he mumbles his response into my neck.

“I’m trying.”

“Please, Eli, come home with me this weekend.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Wordlessly he lifts me into his arms and carries me to bed. Once there, he circles my waist and pulls me firmly into his chest, his heart beating erratically against my back. Clear unrest emanates from his frame as he holds me tightly to him. Every part of me wants to turn in his arms and demand an explanation and the reasoning behind his behavior, but I don’t. As much as I want to demand it—even more so, I want his admissions given freely, in his own time. That’s where the patience comes in—and therein lies my hope that it will pay off—because, for me, he’s worth it.

Grabbing the box of matches, I mull over how I felt on the drive to Nashville that night, alone and wrapped in a state of confusion that remained a constant in our last months together and long after we broke up. That night was the last night Eli was openly emotional in front of me. For the most part, he was an amazing boyfriend—until Hyde came out. Though Hyde’s appearances were rare, when he reared his ugly head, Eli would distance himself to keep me from dealing with the worst of it. Whatever battles he faced, he insisted on fighting alone, which he knew hurt me.

Showing up with soup when he was sick or anything that displayed any sort of maternal concern—that included me caring for him—seemed to push him away. It was the tiny fractures like that which caused wear and tear on our relationship. It was as if he didn’t want me to see any weakness in him at all. The only time he let me see true vulnerability was in bed.

In those intimate moments, his heart was open, unguarded, and it seemed he couldn’t stop it when we were connected that way. Sex was emotional for Eli, which made him a rare breed and only endeared him further to me. It was the distance he put between us that ripped us apart and his purposeful indifference between those rare, tender moments that kept us from reaching our full potential.

The same indifference he’s displaying now as he retreats inside himself, which is what I’ve been waiting for.

The other fucking shoe.

Proof and confirmation that I didn’t imagine the scenarios where I took a step forward, and he inched away from me.

Mere days are all it took.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but the sincerity he’s displayed since he got here almost had me convinced. I was believing again.

I allow myself to absorb the fresh sting as a reminder while I pull a match from the box. This is what Eli does. What he’s always done, and who he is.

The only relationship stamina Eli Welch ever had was in the bedroom. It kills me that I even considered giving him a chance for a real conversation. Resignation takes over as I strike the match, drop it, and walk away.





“I’m here,” I chirp at my mother, where she stands in the kitchen, sounding off a list of ingredients to Eli as he types them into his phone.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Eli doesn’t so much as glance my way as I look between them.

“Stealth mission,” Mom pipes tracing one of Grammy P’s recipe cards with her finger, “and I’m sending my strongest troops.”

Deflating at the idea of spending more time trapped in the car with Eli, I woman up and nod as Serena prances into the kitchen with Thatch on her heels.

“Mom, it’s just a trip to the grocery store,” Serena admonishes. “Whit and I can handle it.”

Mom looks between us, brows rising. “Can either of you change a tire?”

“No, but I can dial Triple-A,” I sass.

“Well, with these two coming, you won’t have to.”

“I’ll go get Peyton,” Serena says.

“No, your father has whisked him away. They’re busy. Conner and Gracie are stringing popcorn. This is an adult-only trip. In and out, the store is probably a madhouse today.” She turns to Eli. “And toothpicks,” Mom adds. “Got all that, handsome?”

Eli grins, clearly fond of his nickname. “Got it.” He pockets his cell in his dark-washed jeans as I try not to notice his impeccable dress.

“Good.” Mom nods. “Shop smart, kids. Last chance.”

“On it,” I say, as the four of us head toward the front door gathering our coats from the hall tree as Brenden speaks up from the recliner.

“You guys mind picking up diapers for Wyatt?” Brenden stands and opens his wallet, and Eli shakes his head. “I’ve got it man.”

“Thanks,” Brenden says, reclaiming his seat and picking up the remote.

“You could help Mom, asshat,” Serena snaps. “You haven’t lifted a damn finger since you’ve been here.”

“It’s called Christmas vacation,” Brenden defends indignantly as Thatch hisses Serena’s name in warning.

“He’s as lazy as the days are long,” Serena declares, her eyes zero in on Erin, who sits on the couch feeding Wyatt a bottle. “I don’t know how you put up with it. I feel sorry for you, sister,” she adds before stalking out the front door.