It wasn't until a good fifteen minutes later, much of the cleaning clatter in the kitchen dying down, that a three-year-old came walking in, calm, quiet, looking around.
He, well, looked like a Mallick with his short black hair and light blue eyes. But as he got closer, you could actually see an odd hint of brown flecks in his eyes as well. If I had to bet, I would put money on him being Mark and Scotti's. There was just something in those eyes that looked like the Rivers brothers (and sister).
Any conversation that had been going on halted immediately as he locked eyes on Eli, then confidently made his way over, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
He climbed up in the small space between Eli and Helen who was seated next to him, then went right ahead and sat down on his leg, watching him with those unique eyes.
"I'm Eli," he said with a firm nod, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Eli.
My heart seized in my chest, every inch of me going tight.
This was what I was sure he was dreading.
The adults were one thing, adults who had him for thirty some-odd years.
The kids, these kids who had no idea who he was, that was what he was dreading.
The questions.
The lack of recognition.
"Hey Eli," Eli said, voice thick, giving him a smile that was clear was pained.
And then the adorable, innocent little thing did it.
He gutted him.
"Who are you?"
I felt a knife to my own gut, could see the same pain on everyone else's faces. I couldn't even imagine how he was feeling.
My gaze found his, his eyes glassy. He half-turned away, more toward his mother, his hand raising, pressing into his eyes, struggling to keep it together.
"Little Eli," Becca's confident voice called, old enough to be able to sense when the adults needed a minute, good enough to be willing to step in and give them it. "Come here."
Little Eli hopped off his uncle's lap and ran over to her. "I'm not little," he declared, voice firm as she led him out of the room.
"It's okay," Helen said, her arms going around Eli. His forehead fell forward into her shoulder, his body shaking as he sucked in a breath. "I know," she said, kissing the side of his head. "I know."
I had to look away, reaching up to swipe tears off my cheeks.
When I looked up, everyone else was similarly affected, the women turned into their men's shoulders, men who were barely keeping it together themselves.
Hell, even Peyton as she stepped in and saw the scene - having been helping with the clean-up - looked taken aback. If there was one thing I knew for sure about Peyton, it was that she was a hard nut to crack. I didn't remember the last time I had seen her cry. It might have actually been when we were kids. She quipped when I was getting the, as she called it, 'waterworks,' that she had sold her tear ducts on the black market to finance the upkeep of her amazing hair.
So seeing her eyes go wide then glisten slightly was another knife to the gut.
Sensing my inspection, her gaze found mine and her eyes went horrified.
Oh, fuck no, she mouthed before turning on her heel and disappearing.
When I looked back, Eli's breathing looked even, and his mother was whispering something between the two of them into his ear as she stroked his hair slightly.
Whatever it was she was saying seemed to help him bring his composure back.
A moment later, he took a deep breath and pulled away.
Her hands cradled his face.
"Now fuck your parole. Go get a drink. It looks like Autumn needs a refill too," she added, making me start and immediately jump up.
I knew a mom-command when I heard one.
And even though she wasn't actually my mother, I felt compelled to do exactly what she said.
"Yeah, I'm empty," I said with a smile I hoped met my eyes as Eli's head turned in my direction.
He gave me a smile that must have matched my own, and, yeah, it totally didn't reach. "Can't have that," he agreed, standing, and moving toward me, putting an arm around my hips and leading me out of the room.
But not toward the kitchen where the booze was. No, he led me out toward the front of the house, setting my glass away, grabbing some random jacket off a hook, and pulling me outside with him. He didn't stop pulling until he was leaning up against the back of my car, reaching to pull my front to face his, then draping the jacket across my back, using the sides to pull me against his body.
His arms went around my center, his face in my neck.
There wasn't even a hint of hesitation before my arms went around him, holding on as tight as he was holding me.
"This is even harder than I expected," he admitted, voice rough, raw - a half-healed wound ripped open.
Having no words, no comfort other than my presence, my listening ear, I just squeezed him tighter, and let him drain it out.
"He has my fucking name, and he doesn't know who I am."
Oh, God.
I needed to keep it under control. I was supposed to be the one comforting him; I couldn't bring on the tears again.
"He will know you, Eli. He's so little. Most of his childhood memories will have you in them."
"And Becca?" he asked, voice barely more than a choked whisper. "And Izzy? They're closer to teens than kids. Izzy wouldn't even come close to me."
That was, unfortunately, true.
Most of the kids had kept a bit of a wide birth around me, Eli, and Peyton, all of us being strangers to them.
"Becca remembered you," I tried.
He swallowed hard, pressing his face into my neck. "She told me she thought I didn't love her anymore, Autumn." Oh, hell. Okay. There was no way to stop a few tears. "Since I never responded to any of her letters. I did that. I ripped away the comfort that she should have had in knowing that her whole family loved and supported and appreciated her. I made a part of her, maybe only a small part, but a part of her perfect little self think that there was even a chance that she was unlovable. I fucking did that."
"You did what you thought was best," I tried, hearing the thickness in my voice, trying to breathe through it, get control over myself.
"And I fucked everything up," he growled, voice getting an edge that had me stiffening.
Angry.
At himself, sure.
But still angry.
And because I knew him, I knew that the last thing he would want was to lose it at his first family gathering in six years, a gathering he had convinced himself would never happen.
My hands slid down his tense arms to curl around the fists he had curled behind my back. "Hey," I said, pulling back slightly so I could look at him. "Don't do this."
"Do what? Say the truth?" he asked, a mix of broken and pissed, a combination that would not be good in another minute or two. "All I have done since I walked down that street that night was fucking wrong. I have fucked everything up with every choice I have made."
"You don't believe that--"
"I haven't--"
"No," I cut him off. "I'm talking," I clarified, pleased when he looked taken aback for a second, the new emotion wiping a bit of the anger away. "You don't believe that what you did that night was wrong. In fact, not a single person in the world - including the asshole you beat up - thinks what you did was wrong. You did the right thing for the right reasons and got the wrong judgment in court."
"I beat a man half to death, Autumn. The judgment wasn't wrong. I did do that."
He wasn't wrong, and I was having a hard time coming up with a rebuttal, but I wanted to keep him talking. His body was relaxing with every word.
"You're talking about it like you walked up to some random innocent and beat him. You stopped a bully from possibly killing a woman he was supposed to honor and cherish. He should have gone away for that. In lieu of that, you should have been up on charges that were thrown away given the situation. It was a miscarriage of justice from the second that battered
woman was allowed to be taken away by the very people who allowed her abuser to keep hurting her. You did the right thing in trying to protect her."
"You don't have to raise your voice, sweetheart," he said, making me realize that I had almost been yelling. I wasn't the best with strong emotions, and they had a tendency to burst out of me in almost manic explosions of feeling. "I'm listening," he added.
"I can't imagine what it felt like when you realized you were going to lose six years of your life, Eli. I, I just... I can't fathom that. But because I can't even wrap my head around it, I know - not think - know that whatever decision you needed to make to be able to survive those six years was the right decision. There are consequences to every choice we make, good and bad, you just have to deal with them as they come. You're here now, Eli. You can make amends. You can spend the next forty years showing Becca just how perfect she is, how lovable. You can meet all those kids and show them how awesome their Uncle Eli is. You can mend bonds with your brothers, sisters-in-law, and parents. You have that chance. But you aren't going to accomplish that by being out here bitching about a choice that didn't go the way you planned."
There.
That about covered it.
I felt like I was shaking, knowing some of the things were a bit aggressive, worried it would drive a wedge, but knowing down to my marrow that he needed to hear it regardless.
When I finished though, he didn't seem mad or upset.
Instead, he was watching me like I had sprouted another head and it started singing in Swahili.
He looked at me like I confused him.
Then, slowly, his lips twitched, then tugged upward into a smile. "I've had my ass handed to me a lot in my life," he started oddly. "My mom used to whoop it when I stepped out of line. My brothers did it just to fuck with me. It came with the job as I aged up. But I've never had my ass handed to me verbally before. That's quite a hook you got there, sweetheart."
"Well," I said, feeling oddly confused and proud at the same time, "you were losing your shit. You needed your ass kicked a little."
"Guess I did," he agreed, smiling fully. "Thank you."
"Hey, if ever you need an ass-kicking, you know where to find me," I said, trying to keep things light, especially because there was something deep in his eyes that I couldn't place, and therefore felt worried about.
"Good to know. You can verbally whoop mine," he agreed, eyes going molten, "and I can physically whoop yours from time to time."
This was not a good time - or place - to be getting completely turned on, but it was totally happening anyway.
"Don't tease me," I said, leaning into his chest.
"Not teasing," he said, hand sliding out from under the jacket to go to the back of my neck, sliding into my hair, and pulling to make my head angle up. The pain seemed to spread from my scalp and shoot right between my legs. "We're going back to my place tonight so we don't have to worry about traumatizing your sister."
"Right," I said with a grin, "because she's such a shrinking violet."
"Might have to stop at your store for some goodies though," he added, eyes full of promise, making an almost intolerable pressure press into my lower stomach.
"You!" Peyton's voice called, making me jolt backward a step, the jacket started to fall, making me reach for it to pull it back up as she walked up, pointing at Eli.
"Me?" Eli asked, leaning back against the car, smirking at her.
"Yes, you!" she hissed.
"What'd I do?"
"You made me feel things, you monster," she declared, crossing her arms, small-eyeing him.
To that, he threw his head back and laughed a little. "Can't be having that, can we?"
"No," she agreed, shaking her head in exasperation, "we absolutely can not."
Eli reached out, dragging a very stiff Peyton in for a hug. "Don't fucking change, Peyton."
"Why would I?" she asked, trying to pull off unaffected, but I knew my sister, and she was totally having a moment. "There's no improving on this," she added, even as her hands went up and gave him a quick, tentative hug back. "Okay, you big sap. Let me go," she added a moment later, pulling away. "What? You're not getting enough affection from this one?" she asked, waving a hand at me. "She's like a clinging vine for chrissakes."
I totally had to force affection on her from time to time. Mostly because I felt like she needed it, no matter how much she denied it.
With that, though, she turned on her heel and started toward the house.
"Also, we're having dessert. And it looks like you guys will need to cut my fat ass out of the wall and take me out with a crane."
"Some day," Eli said, shaking his head at her, "some guy is going to come around and throw an entire Home Depot department full of wrenches in her works."
"Won't that be awesome to watch?" I agreed, moving in when he held out an arm for me to step into.
"Thank you," he told me a second later, pressing a kiss into my temple.
"For her? I don't think you've woken up to her standing in a corner with a knife yet. You might not be thanking me then."
He chuckled at that, giving me a squeeze.
"Yeah, for her. For you. For this. For taking that hollow shell I was when I got out, and steadily filling me back up."
Oh, my poor heart.
I couldn't take any more of the up and down.
But thank God we were ending the conversation on such an up.
I filled him up.
That might have been the best compliment I had ever received.
"You're very welcome," I said, meaning it. "I really love your family."
"They'll be happy to adopt you. It seems like Ma just keeps building a longer table."
"Well, that's good. Because I don't think Peyton will ever give them up. She follows her stomach. She swears the only time she's ever been in love was with the absolutely perfect cheesy lasagne we got once at a restaurant that went out of business a week after she had it."
"We better go help her eat the dessert so she doesn't bitch the whole way home about how much we let her eat."
She would totally do that, too.
We walked into the dining room, making our choices.
Eli stopped on the way back to the table, going by habit toward his mother, but stopping, and moving to sit down next to Little Eli instead.
"That's a nice truck," he said as I stood watching, my breath caught in my chest.
"It has a backseat," Little Eli declared, holding up the bright blue pickup.
"I see that. I have a truck just like that. With a backseat."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he agreed as Mark walked over to sit down on Little Eli's other side. "Maybe one day your daddy can bring you over, and we can take a ride in it."
"To the beach?" he asked, perking up immediately.
"Anywhere you want," Eli agreed, giving him a smile. "And my name is Eli, by the way."
"That's my name!" Little Eli declared.
"You stole it from me," Eli agreed.
Little Eli looked at his father. "Did you?"
"Sure did," Mark agreed. "I thought Eli was pretty cool, so I thought you'd like to have the name of someone cool."
"He has a truck!" Little Eli declared, adorably oblivious to how big the moment was.
"I have a truck too," Mark insisted.
"He has a red truck."
Eli and I laughed at that, knowing his truck was not, in fact, red, and that hopefully Little Eli didn't have his heart set on that.
"I owe you," a deep, smooth male voice said as he moved to stand beside me, watching Eli zoom zoom with Little Eli's truck, plowing right through the kid's slice of cheesecake, an action that the little guy found hilarious.
Charlie Mallick.
There was something intimidating in him, something that spoke of his past, something in the way he carried himself. But I had seen him throw a little girl up in the air until his arms must have felt like Jell-O. Being a grandparent had obviously sof
tened him.
"No, you don't," I objected, shaking my head. "Believe me, I wanted this too. He needed this so badly."
Oh, crap.
I was getting all misty-eyed again.
What was wrong with me?
"There isn't a doubt in my mind, hon, that we never would have seen him at our table again if not for you. He told his brother that he was dead just a couple weeks ago. You brought him back to life. I owe you. From what I hear, you have your life on track. You don't have need for anything I could usually offer. But I can offer you this," he said, waving his hand out toward the room as a whole.
Oh, Jesus, with the waterworks.
Peyton was never going to let me live all this crying down.
But, the fact of the matter was, family was nice.
I had always had Peyton, and she meant the world to me, but I never really had a chance to experience a fun, loving, supportive family. Just getting a couple hours in one made me want more.
And Charlie was offering it to me.
It was one thing when it was just acceptance, just the fact that you had to have a place at your table for your child's spouse. It was a complete other to welcome them with open arms.
Sensing my tears even though my head was ducked, Charlie's arm went around my lower back, pulling me close enough to kiss my temple. "Welcome to the family, Autumn."
Eli chose that exact moment to look over.
And his eyes went heavy with feeling, seeming to understand exactly what was happening.
"Bitch, get it together," Peyton declared as she moved into the spot Charlie vacated. "Or drown it in chocolate cake. You're embarrassing the family," she declared in a dead-on mobster impression, hand motions and all.
But I was still being a sap.
"I think this is our new family, Peyton."
She thought on that, looking around, then gave me a nod.
"Fine, then you're just being a sap. Ovary-up, woman! Oh, is that an apple danish?" she asked, making a bee-line for the pile.
"I think she was serious about the crane thing," Eli told me, walking right up, and pulling me to him.
Eli (Mallick Brothers Book 4) Page 19