Three Years(37)

Yet, I know we can’t just leave the pair here to die. And they did have a hand in my release. I still love him. I still love Jase. I’m so fucking confused right now.

Elliot returns below deck to where I’m waiting, closing the hatch behind him with a resounding thunk. As if to say, the others aren’t welcome down here. He’s protecting me yet again, and I’m so relieved I could cry. Instead, I stare into space, thoughts buzzing in my head like angry wasps.

Soon enough, we’re sailing out of the port and into open ocean. It’s choppy today, rough but not unbearable, or at least it wouldn’t be if I weren’t suffering from the most pathetic morning sickness ever. One minute I’m fine, and the next, I feel positively green.

“Julz,” Elliot says after a while.

“Yeah?”

He stares at me for a long moment, chewing his lip as if he’s nervous.

“Your mom’s not dead.”

It’s like I’ve been punched square in the face again. “What? Yes she is. The Pros- Luis told Dornan this morning in front of me….” I trail off as I remember whose side Luis has been on the entire time.

“Where is she?”

Elliot begins to pace, and it’s really hard to follow him with the way the boat is rocking to and fro.

“She’s safe,” he says. “They took her to a rehab center to try and get her off some of the drugs.”

That familiar feeling of nausea swells within me again, and I swallow thickly, trying to push it down. It doesn’t work, though, and a moment later I’m rushing to the small bathroom, getting there just in time to puke my guts up in the sink.

Several lurches later, I rinse everything away. I cup my hands under the running water and take a long drink. Much better.

Elliot appears behind me, one hand lightly on my shoulder. I turn quickly, not used to a friendly touch, and he takes his hand away like it’s been burnt. “Sorry,” I say, reaching out to take his hand in mine.” I….” I don’t know what to say.

“It’s okay,” he says, his forehead pinched with stress. “What’s happening in here?

I panic. I can’t tell him. Sickness rushes up in my throat again and I turn, throwing up again in the sink.

“I’m seasick,” I say, after I’ve finished.

He looks very, very troubled, glancing down at my rounded belly.

“You don’t get seasick,” he says quietly. “You’ve never been seasick.”

I think of the week we spent on the Mississippi river, catching fish and making love and sunning ourselves on the deck of the houseboat he had hired. It was right before he left me.

He’s right. I never got seasick. Not even on the days when the water was so choppy, we were forced to stay inside and ride out the tide.

He sees right through my lie even as he suspects the truth. It’s something I’ve always been able to do - decipher Elliot’s expression quicker than he even realizes what he’s thinking.

It is absurd how closely we mirror the Elliot and Juliette of six years ago, me puking my heart out and him beside me, his face resigned and stricken.

He makes a pained coughing noise as he realizes I have carried a piece of the devil out of the compound inside me, a shard of glass embedded into my womb, the price I pay for trying to right his sins.

I can’t believe how stupid I am, that after everything we went thought six years ago, I have let this happen again.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, as I turn and vomit again.

After I’ve finished throwing up, I flush everything away and rinse my mouth under the tap again. I turn to look at Elliot, standing in the doorway, but it’s not Elliot anymore.

It’s Jase.

My knees go weak as I take him in. He’s covered in blood and dirt. I feel my mouth fall open, unable to form words, as my broken heart pounds painfully.

“Julz,” he says, his face worried, his eyes almost black. Just like Dornan’s.

Finally, I find my voice. “You’re just like him,” I say, shrinking back. “I loved you. I thought you were different.”

“It’s not what you think,” he says, his voice cracking. He steps closer, trying to grab at me, trying to embrace me.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I spit, grabbing the door and trying to push it closed. “Elliot!” I don’t remember when I started crying, but there are tears on my cheeks, tears that burn my skin. “Get out. Get out!”

Elliot appears next to Jase, who is still wedged between the door and the doorframe to stop me from closing him out.

“Give her some space, man,” he says sharply. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”