Why must Elias flaunt this little fucking fling in my face? There is no way he doesn’t know at this point that it infuriates me.
After he kissed me on the stairs the other night and we almost got caught by Hilda, we haven’t spoken much. The last few days, when I’ve gotten home from work, he’s been gone. Thankfully, since Jordan was out of town, I knew that wasn’t where he was at.
If I had to guess, I’d say he was at Katie’s. They spend a lot of time together. It’s not like I could ask her, or even him, to confirm, but as far as I know, he doesn’t have any other friends here yet.
As pathetic as it sounds, I’ve found myself in the media room late at night more than usual lately, hoping to find him meandering in while he’s unable to sleep. It hasn’t happened, though. He’s well and truly avoiding me.
Which, in all honesty, I should be doing too. I have no business entertaining any thoughts I have for him. I knew when I married Valerie, I would need to lock these feelings up tight. And, for the most part, up until he moved into my house, it was working fine.
My feelings for Elias make no sense from outside looking in. We don’t know each other all that well. Sure, we know each other much more intimately than I know most people, but aside from that, I don’t know him that well. The time we’ve spent together—alone or otherwise—since marrying Val has been slim. But what I do know, I can’t help but want more of.
At first, I thought it was more about the chase. When I found out who he was and I tried to talk to him about it, he shut me down. Something I’m not used to. But now that I have him under my roof, around me almost at all time, and it’s like I’ve essentially “caught” him, I no longer think that’s the case. If it was just about the chase, wouldn’t this feeling have already worn off?
Elias’s feisty nature and smart mouth are so attractive to me. The way he won’t back down and he fights for what he wants—what he believes in—is like my own version of crack. But more than that, I admire his work ethic, and the way he makes his own way in life in any way he can. The thought of him dancing for other men orperformingfor them the way he did me makes me want to kill someone, but I can’t help but also respect how he has worked hard for everything he’s had in life.
I know for a fact Valerie couldn’t afford his Duke tuition, but he made it work any way he knew how. Even when we got married and I offered to cover his tuition, he wouldn’t allow it. Of course, I’m sure some of that refusal had more to do with his personal issues with me and less about accepting help, but still.
He reminds me of myself in a lot of ways. I didn’t always go through the most legal means when I was younger and trying to get by, but I did what I had to do to survive and make ends meet. I’m not proud of certain things I’ve done to get here, but I, in no way, regret any of it. When you come from nothing and you know what the bottom of the barrel feels like, you either settle and accept your fate or you fight like hell to be better than where you came from.
Elias and I both chose the latter.
I’m forced back into the here and now when my phone dings, letting me know Elias responded.
Elias: Tsk, tsk, stepdaddy. Did somebody forget they have no say in what I do?
My blood boils as I read the message. He just can’t fucking help himself.
Me: Do it and watch what happens, Elias. Your ass will be handed to you if you do.
Me: And quit fucking calling me that.
Elias: Promises, promises. I’ll believe it when I see it,daddy.
In my forty-nine years of living, I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone who gives me a run for my money quite like he does. Nobody has ever blatantly disobeyed me. It’s something that infuriates me to all hell, but I can’t deny it turns me on at the same time. The defiance and rebellion in his eyes when he knows he’s pissing me off. He thrives on it, just like I do, as it seems.
Another text comes through, but upon glancing at my phone, I see it’s not Elias, but instead Valerie. Like a bucket of cold water dumped on me, the guilt creeps in about the way I’m thinking about her son as I read her message.
Valerie: I’ll be home tonight instead of Sunday. Bethany came down with something, maybe the flu, so we’re cutting the trip short. I’ll be home most likely before you are. Want to grab dinner together?
I wish I felt the level of excitement from Val’s messages, as I do with Elias. In many ways, it would make everything so much easier. The fact that thought even crossed my mind makes me feel even worse about the whole situation.
Because the fact of the matter is, it’ll never feel that way with her—or maybe anybody else at all besides him.
Me: Sure thing. Pick the place and I’ll meet you there. Travel safe.
Chapter Eighteen
Elias Carnell
Jordan’s house is pretty nice. Not as nice as Zeke’s, but like, whose is? We live in a literal fucking mansion. Nobody needs a house that big, nor can anybody afford a house like that. But for being a single man, Jordan seems to do well for himself. It’s an all white, two-story house with a well-maintained lawn in a newer development. His ridiculously bright green car isn’t in the driveway, so he must park in the two-car garage.
My car looks out of place outside, though, beside all the other nice houses and their equally nice cars. Climbing out, I lock the door and head to the front porch. I considered not even coming tonight. The last thing I want to do is lead Jordan on. He’s been nothing but nice to me, and I’ve enjoyed my time with him.
After getting that text message from Zeke earlier where he went all caveman on me, I knew I had to come. Knowing I’m getting a rise out of him is just too good to pass up. My heart may not be in this, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. I think if I sit down with him and be crystal clear about what this is to me, and what it won’t be, then we’re good. Besides, I doubt Jordan is looking for a husband and to settle down with kids right now anyway. He’s probably looking for a little no-strings-attached fun, too.
Knocking on the red front door, it doesn’t take long for him to answer it. He got home from work not long ago. He told me as much when he sent me his address, but he’s already changed out of his normal suit and into some faded Levi 501s and a white tee. His hair looks deliciously tousled and the smile on his face is contagious as a grin of my own slides into place.
“Hey, come on in.” Jordan steps to the side, letting me enter. His place smells nice. Underneath the scent of whatever Italian food he’s currently cooking, there’s an undertone of the body wash he uses.
