The Expansion of the Universe

Thirty-Eight | "Thank you."

Elijah grimaced. "I'm sorry about that, too. I handled this like such a bastard, didn't I?" A hollow laugh left him. "God, I'm such an ass. I don't plan on being away from you for that long ever again, if I can help it, doll, but I'll make sure to keep you aware of what's going on, if I ever am."

He dipped his head lower, so his dark, soulful eyes were gazing directly into hers. "I need you to understand that I care about you a lot, doll. So, so much. More than I care about food, flying, Austin, and probably most everything. The fact that I scared you—" he cut himself off by clearing his throat, blinking furiously as his eyes grew wet with a sheen of tears.

It was the sheer amount of emotion he was showing during their conversation that offered the final piece of evidence for the argument that Elijah was not like Mitchell. He had made a mistake, but he was sorry, and he clearly regretted what he had done.

"I know we may have to take a few steps back," he continued, once he had gathered himself. "I hate it, but I understand it. So, doll, just tell me what you need me to do, alright? I'll do whatever you want."

"I don't want to take a few steps back," she told him, the confident tone of her voice conveying her honesty. "I don't. It did scare me, and I did have a panic attack—" he winced, appearing as though he'd been physically slapped by her words, "but I understand that you didn't mean to do it. You were angry about something, but not at me. Right?"

"Yes, but it doesn't matter, babe, because I should never take my anger out on you, regardless of who it's aimed at. You ought to kick me in the balls for that." After the words left his mouth, he perked up, as though excited by a sudden idea. "Would you like to kick me in the nuts?"

So startled by the question, a bark of laughter was ripped from her throat, and she shook her head with amusement. "What?"

"You can knee me in the balls," he offered again. "Or clock me over the head or some other shit. Whichever you prefer."

"Elijah," she scolded, though a smile still rested on her lips, "I don't want to knee you in the balls."

"Oh?" Seeming to realize that the tension between them had almost entirely evaporated, he wiggled his brows and teased, "Do you have another, kinkier preference, Nosy Nancy?"

"Elijah!"

"What?" He chuckled, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. "No judgement here, gorgeous. You tell me what to do, and I'll happily be your slave or whatever."

"Elijah, no." It was hard to sound serious when she was so close to laughing, but she tried her best.

"Alright, well, if you don't want to kick me in the shin or some shit," he sobered, "can I hug you, pretty girl? It's okay if you don't want me to."

She did a quick self-assessment of her mental and physical state. After her conversation with Whitney, Elijah's apology and obvious guilt over his actions, and Liza's own self-reflection, she felt . . . stable. She was feeling good, even, now that she was able to think clearly and realistically about what had occurred.

So, without further hesitation, she smiled slightly, held her arms out wide, and said, "You can hug me, and I promise not to knee you in the balls while you do."

"Thank fu—freaking God," he breathed, rushing forward and pulling her into a tight embrace, one hand slipping around her waist while the other cradled the back of her head. "Thank God." He pressed kisses against the side of her head and neck while he cradled her. "Thank God, doll. Thank God. Thank you."

She allowed her muscles to relax as she melted into his touch, grateful that she had made enough progress in her recovery that the relationship she had with this man—this wonderful, kind, goofy man who made mistakes just like everyone else—would not have to suffer any further. 

*****

A/N:

Nothing clever from me today. I'm too tired for no other reason than adulthood lol. 

Stay beautiful!

A.R.