Love Unwritten (Lakefront Billionaires, 2)

I was half hoping that Ellie would be asleep by the time I got home. Does it make me a coward? Absolutely, but at least it would have given me some more time to prepare for this kind of deep conversation.

I’ve always done a good job of repressing my uncomfortable emotions. At first, it was purely survival instinct because I didn’t want to give my aunt and uncle a reason to get rid of me. So I learned to shield my feelings about my biological parents with toxic coping skills and a willingness to do anything for anyone.

Emphasis on the toxic.

I made myself so damn needed by everyone that no one could imagine getting rid of me. Soccer team captain. Senior class president and prom king. Beloved nephew, devoted father, and loyal husband.

It made me feel invincible and fulfilled…or it had until my life of lies came crashing down, teaching me more about myself in a few months than I had learned in the whole thirty-one years I had been alive.

The soft strumming of a guitar greets me when I walk inside the house. I head in the direction of the sound before stopping near the entrance to the living room. Ellie hasn’t noticed me yet, but then again, she never does whenever she is in the zone.

I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment, but I don’t want to shatter it and announce my presence before she has a chance to finish playing a popular song I immediately recognize.

My excuse for lingering in the dark sounds weak to my own ears though, especially when one song bleeds into another, and next thing I know, I’ve spent thirty minutes lurking.

Ellie has no idea, but I like listening to her play. Her music has a way of sneaking past my defenses and making me feel, and I don’t want to scare her away from playing around the house if she knows I might be listening. The very idea of that happening unsettles me almost as much as my other reason for hanging around Ellie while she remains completely unaware.

There is something about her that lures me in every time, and it has nothing to do with her music. I haven’t determined if my interest has something to do with her beauty or the secrets she hides behind timid smiles and songs that make my chest ache.

Partly because I don’t want to know.

All I know is that for someone with sun-kissed skin, bright smiles, and golden hair that looks like sunshine personified, she sure does a good job of hiding it behind heart-wrenching musical progressions and haunted melodies that stay with me long after she stops playing for the evening.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

The music she plays has a chilling, melancholic quality to it that sounds completely different from Nico’s upbeat song choices, and I’m always left wondering who inspires the sorrowful tunes.

I stomp my feet a few times, and the music cuts out altogether as I enter the living room.

“I’m home,” I say to her back.

She turns and glances back at me from over the couch. “I thought you were staying out late.”

“Changed my mind.” I take a seat on the couch across from hers.

“I should get to sleep then. Nico needs me to stop by the market tomorrow before school to get his friend some cupcakes for her birthday.” She rises from her spot and reaches for her incomplete music sheet.

“Wait. Do you have a second?”

“Sure.”

“I need your advice.”

She points at her chest. “Mine?”

“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.

She stares at me for a few seconds before nodding. “Um…all right.” She reclaims her spot on the couch and places her guitar on the coffee table. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Hell yes,” I say without thinking twice.

She heads toward the bar cart and tops a glass off with my favorite bourbon without me even having to point out the bottle. When she holds the glass out for me to grab, the tips of our fingers brush against each other, sending a few sparks bursting across my skin.

She yanks her hand back.

“Thanks.” I take a sip of my drink.

“Better?” She sits again.

“No.”

“On a scale from one to ten, how painful was that to admit?”

“At least an eight.”

That mischievous glint in her eye returns. “Better than a ten.”

“Give it time. I’m sure we will get there.” My lips twitch, but I catch myself before Ellie adds it to that ridiculous smile counter of hers.

“So, what sort of advice do you need from me?”

I release a heavy breath. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m struggling to connect with Nico.”

Her amusement dies along with the light in her eyes. “Right.”

I thought she would have a hell of a lot more to say than right.

You knew it was a bad idea to ask her for help.

Julian was wrong. Ellie doesn’t know how to help me when her relationship with Nico is completely different.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She looks away for a few seconds before her gaze returns to me.

“Has he talked to you about it?”

“Not much.”

“But he has mentioned something?”

She takes a few seconds to respond, adding to my unease.

Maybe things are worse than you thought.

She wraps the hoodie string around her index finger three times before speaking. “Have you asked him about what’s wrong?”

“Yes, but I’m not getting anywhere with him.”

“Maybe you should try again.”

“What’s the point? He always finds a way to reject me.”

Awareness dawns on her. “Oh, Rafa. I’m sorry.”

The pity in her voice makes my stomach churn, filling me with shame. “Forget I said anything.”

Her skin blanches. “I wish I could tell you more. I really do.”

“Has he…said anything to you?”

Her face loses some of its color. “Not really.”

“That’s not a no.”

“No, but it’s not a yes either. We don’t talk much about you.”

Somehow, her attempt at making me feel better backfires, only adding to my growing frustration. “So much for you being able to help.”

“Hey. I understand you’re angry, but—”

“Angry? You think this is me being angry?” My sensibility goes out the window, along with any self-preservation. “My son barely wants to spend time with me anymore. Whenever I try—whether it’s reading a book together, watching a movie, or playing video games—he shuts down and pushes me away, and do you know who he asks for instead?”

She fails to meet my eyes. “Me?”

“Yes,” I hiss. “And how do you think that makes me feel?” I don’t bother to shield my loathing. I’m not sure who I’m more frustrated with—her or me—but the rage and helplessness become all-consuming as I direct them straight at her.

“It makes me hate you.” Speaking the words into existence feels wrong. My aunt taught me not to hate anyone, including my parents, but I can’t think of any other way to describe the burning pang in my chest whenever I look at Ellie. Jealousy, rage, and shame seem to manifest as some weird case of heartburn that no bottle of antacid can fix.

“Is that how you really feel about me?” Her monotonous tone grates on my nerves.

“Yes,” I say with slightly less confidence.

She takes so long to respond, I begin to question if she ever will.

“I don’t think you do, because if that were the case, you would’ve fired me.”

I cover up the fact that I am impressed by her honesty with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

Another long pause follows before she speaks again. “Regardless of your misguided anger toward me, I do care about helping you with your relationship with Nico.”

“Why?”

“Because deep down, I know you’re a good guy, even if you try your hardest to prove the exact opposite.”

I feel like Ellie laid me out on an operating table and cut me open, revealing all the broken parts I keep hidden. Truth is, I was a good guy, which became a weakness and a liability rather than a badge of honor. There is a reason nice guys always finish last, and it’s usually because everyone gets ahead by walking all over them.

I drop my gaze as shame snakes its way through me, squeezing every ounce of confidence from my body.

With a sigh, Ellie stands, and I brace myself for her departure like I deserve, only to be stunned when she walks around the coffee table and takes a seat beside me. Our thighs graze, sending a lick of heat up my leg.

I’ve never been this close to her before. I made sure to prevent any opportunity that would lead to this kind of proximity, and a quick inhale reminds me why. Ellie smells like fresh-picked strawberries and a hint of Nico’s favorite bath bomb, and it screws with my head and my heart all at the same time as I take another deep breath.

I’ve always had this…interest in her. Every time I dropped Nico off for his music lessons at The Broken Chord, Ellie’s eyes would light up to match her bright smile, temporarily stunning me. I’m pretty sure she chalked up my silence and general broodiness as part of my personality, and while she wasn’t wrong, she was partially to blame too.

Whatever attraction I felt toward her quickly transformed into something far less desirable as time went on and my relationship with my son became more strained.

Jealousy.

I want to shoo her away, but then she shocks me when she places her palm against my back and rubs in a circular pattern. The motion is comforting rather than aggravating, which worries me.

Being near each other is one thing, but touching? Completely inappropriate and unprofessional, but I can’t find it in me to get up and move.

Instead, I sit there, still as a statue, while Ellie tries to soothe me, a man who doesn’t deserve an ounce of her sympathy or compassion. At best, I’ve been marginally polite, and at worst, I’ve been a grumpy, insecure asshole who has taken out my jealousy on her.

All those past incidents fade away as she comforts me, and my body, which was rigid at first, slowly relaxes with every pass of her palm across my wide back.

You’ll move in a second, I promise myself as I lean into her touch.

“I have firsthand experience dealing with bad dads, and you’re not one of them, no matter how much you tell yourself otherwise.” Her words sneak past my barriers and restore a fractured part of me.

I don’t speak for a whole minute, although I wish I hadn’t at all once I say, “I feel helpless sometimes.”

“I can’t begin to imagine what it must feel like to be in your position.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze. It’s strictly platonic on her end, but my heart jolts in my chest.

I turn to face her and instantly regret it as her eyes cast some kind of spell on me. The limited lighting brings out the darker shades of green and brown in her eyes tonight, and I can’t tear myself away.

I’ve never seen eyes quite like hers before, and maybe it was for the best, because a single stolen glance has my skin tingling.

I want to blame the alcohol in my system, but the excuse feels cheap. I’m the problem, not a few beers or a couple sips of bourbon.

Before I have a chance to dive into my reaction, a loud thud on the other side of the house steals our attention. She sucks in a breath, and my stomach lurches as a sharp cry pierces through the quiet.

“¡Papi!”

“Nicolas!” I bang into the coffee table and trip over my feet in my panic. “I’m coming!”

With my heart in my throat and Ellie on my heels, I take off running. Nico’s room feels too far away as I rush toward the sound of his cries.

I throw open the door to his bedroom, ignoring how the knob permanently embeds itself in the drywall as I dash inside. My shaky legs threaten to give out at the sight of Nico curled into a ball on the floor. Blood is pooled around his split chin and soaking into his dinosaur-themed PJs, while tears stain his chubby cheeks.

Based on the bloody footboard and the rug being at an odd angle, I assume that Nico must have tripped and rammed his chin into the wood post before falling to the floor.

“Oh God.” Ellie’s voice rips me away from my stupor.

I drop to my knees in front of Nico. I’m not given a chance to warn him to stay put before he throws himself into my arms with a cry. My whole heart aches at the sound, and it tears me up inside to pull him away so I can get a better look at him. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“No.” Nico’s voice is hoarse from crying.

Ellie kneels on the floor beside him and places his glasses back on his head. With shaky hands, I check him for any other injuries, all while he cries in pain. Each tear on his face feels like I took a bullet to my chest.

I’m stunned for a second by the blood oozing from his wound, and my stomach rolls.

Is that bone—

Ellie digs her nails into my arm, yanking me from my spiraling thoughts. “We need to take him to the hospital.”

Nico cries out against it.

I choke on the lump in my throat. “I… He…”

“We need to find something to help stop the bleeding first. I’ll go look while you stay with him?”

Nico crawls back onto my lap and wraps his arms around my neck, answering her question for me. Ellie searches the bathroom while I readjust Nico’s position against my chest so I can carry him while being mindful of the gash on his chin.

Nico looks up at me with tear-stained eyes. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Although the look on his face and his continuous insistence on apologizing have me questioning if that’s true.