Chapter 194
Dinner ended in a blur of laughter, clattering plates, and Nanna declaring she was “too old for this many loud grandchildren.” Everyone- scattered after that, some toward the lounge, others toward the backyard, the rest drifting upstairs. I waited. Let the noise fade. Pretended to help with dishes long enough for the hallway to clear before making a quiet dash for the stairs. Almost made it.
“Mace, wait.”
His voice stopped me cold.
I turned, halfway up the steps, finding Elliot standing at the bottom. The dim light from the hall caught the edge of his jaw, the shadows under his eyes. He looked exhausted, and not just from the day.
“I don’t want to do this right now,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I meant.
“Please.” He took a step up, slowly and deliberately. “Just hear me out.”
I opened my mouth to tell him no, but the sound of footsteps and laughter carried up from the entryway, our siblings, of course, arguing about who’d cheated at cards.
Elliot noticed too. His jaw tightened, eyes flicking toward the sound before coming back to me. “Not here.”
I hesitated, heart hammering, then exhaled through my nose. “Fine. Two minutes.”
still
He nodded once, like he’d just been handed a lifeline, and followed as I turned down the hall.
Inside my room, I shut the door quietly, leaning back against it before I could think better of it. He hovered by the edge of the desk, hands shoved into his pockets, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be there.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the faint laughter downstairs, muffled through the walls.
“Alright,” I said finally, folding my arms. “You’ve got two minutes.”
He ran a hand through his hair, the movement restless. “I just… I hate that I scared you today. I wasn’t thinking. When I saw that guy near you, something in me just…snapped. I can’t explain it, Mace. I just know it wasn’t about control, or thinking you can’t handle yourself. I know you can.”
I wanted to stay angry. I wanted to throw something sharp and final between us to make this easier. But looking at him now, so raw and unsure, I couldn’t.
He swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just can’t stand the thought of anyone treating you like you’re less than what you are.”
I shifted my weight, fingers digging into my arms to keep myself steady. “You don’t get to decide who sees me, Elliot.”
“I know,” he said, nodding quickly. “I know. I just-” He stopped, laughed softly, bitterly. “I don’t always know how to do this right. I mess it up. I lead with my feelings when I should just…” He gestured helplessly between us. “Talk.”
Something in me cracked at that, quiet and small but impossible to ignore.
“I know you’re trying,” I said finally. “But you can’t keep doing this, Elliot. You can’t keep blowing up every time someone looks at me.”
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11:39 Mon, Oct 6 M
Chapter 194
“I’ll try,” he promised, voice rough. “I just… needed you to know it’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s because L…” He caught himself, words faltering. “Because I care for you.”
“You shouldn’t care that much,” I said, my voice small but sharp. “None of our brothers care that much.”
57
His head lifted at that, his eyes finally finding mine, and gods, I wished they hadn’t. There was something in them that made my stomach twist, something that burned with more than just protectiveness. “I’m not your brother.”
My heart stumbled, tripping over itself. “You are,” I whispered, forcing the words out even though they tasted like lies. “On paper, you
are.”
Elliot’s jaw tightened. He took a small step closer, enough that the air shifted between us. “Fuck the paper,” he said, his voice steady, too steady. “I’m not your brother, Macey.”
The room tilted. I forgot how to breathe. His words hung there, suspended in the space between us, dangerous, impossible, and so achingly true that part of me wanted to grab them and hide them away forever.
I shook my head, trying to find the ground again, trying to remember every reason this was wrong. “Elliot, you can’t…”
Elliot’s shoulders tensed. For a second, I thought he might back off, but instead he stepped close enough that I could feel the warmth of him, the steady pull of something I felt in every fibre of my being. His voice dropped low, careful and shaking.
“You can’t tell me how to feel,” he said. “I care for you more than I’ve ever cared for anyone in any realm. And I think… You already know that, Mace.”
My throat tightened. The words hung between us, alive and dangerous.
He looked at me then, really looked and the ache in his eyes was almost unbearable. “When your birthday comes, and you find whoever fate gives you… I hope it’s someone who loves you the way I do.”
Before I could breathe, before I could decide if I was furious or heartbroken, he straightened. His hand dragged through his messy blonde hair, a rough, defeated motion, and he exhaled like he’d just fought a battle he couldn’t win. Then he turned and left, the door clicking softly behind him. The room felt colder after he was gone and even though he hadn’t touched me, I could still feel the echo of his words pressed against my skin.
He’d said it as if it were simple. I care for you more than anyone in any realm. The words replayed in my head on a loop, sharp and soft all at once. I sank onto the edge of my bed, pressing my palms to my knees. My skin felt too tight, my thoughts too loud. He wasn’t supposed to say things like that. He wasn’t supposed to look at me like that. He wasn’t supposed to feel like that. And I wasn’t supposed to want any of it. But the sound of his voice, low, certain, breaking just a little at the edges, it stuck to me, wrapping around every bit of sense I had left. Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to feel so right and wrong at the same time? I dragged a hand through my hair and let out a shaky breath, trying to push the thoughts away and convince myself it was just the adrenaline talking, just the chaos of the day. But deep down, I knew better. Elliot wasn’t impulsive, not like that. He meant every word. And no matter how much I wanted to pretend otherwise, I couldn’t unhear it. Couldn’t unfeel it. By the time I managed to pull myself together enough to crawl under the blanket, the house had gone quiet. But my chest hadn’t. Sleep didn’t come easy that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him, standing in my room, eyes full of something I wasn’t ready to face. And even when I finally drifted off, that voice followed me into my dreams.
You can’t tell me how to feel.
