Ex-Daredevil by Zoe Lee
Chapter 27
Gavin
The next two weeks were hell for me.
The morning after Eliott had left me at the hospital, I told Barley everything in an explosion of swears and emotions and wild theories about what Eliott’s bastard of an ex might have said or done to be the shiittiest kind of gay dude. He managed to listen for half an hour before he’d cut me off, grabbing me up in a big bear hug and offering me advice.
“I know you want to badger him until he explains everything,” he’d rumbled. “And you do deserve those explanations, because you’re in a relationship and it’s something that’s between you now, an obstacle you didn’t even see. But some people can’t be rushed, and if someone hurt him, the last thing you want to do is lose your temper and go all scornful bitch on him. So reach out, let him know you’re here, but that you two really need to talk.”
I’d groaned like I was dying, but he was right.
My own insecurities did make me scornful and bitchy, a dumb defense mechanism against all the boy’s boys who’d beat me up and called me names when I was a kid, and all the men who’d fucked me but rolled their eyes at the idea of dating a mouthy pretty boy when I was grown. My choices back then had been to ridicule them until they left me alone or make them laugh, and neither had truly gotten me what I wanted or needed, or given them what they deserved. If I went to Eliott in this state, I could lose my mind and lose him.
So I’d left one more voicemail and then sent him periodic texts. It was a painful parody of our earliest texts, when I’d sent him pictures I knew would infuriate him because they were of me doing dangerous stuff. I deliberated about each text for what felt like hours, and then felt like they were painfully immature or unhelpful or insincere and he’d never reply. Through them, I tried to show him that I cared, but tried to encourage him to talk to me about whatever had happened, not just at the hospital but when he’d been hurt.
Two weeks, and I was ready to break.
But I was still no closer to knowing what to do.
I even considered trying to get in touch with Camdon somehow to ask his advice, except he’d said he was terrible at relationships and I was still a little pissed at him.
The worst part was there was no deadline, no milestone to reach or pass where I’d know for sure I should stop trying because he was never going to talk to me again.
Usually at least one of my three roommates were around and I wished they’d get out of my hair, but tonight, it was the opposite. I was sitting on the couch alone. My knee was bouncing and I was gnawing at a hangnail like an anxiety-ridden dog with a bone.
Who knew how long I’d been there when my cell rang.
Snatching it up, I yelped, “Hello!”
“Gav?” my cousin Kale asked. “Why do you sound so weird?”
Flopping down on the couch and tossing my feet up over its back where a throw blanket was haphazardly folded up, I sighed melodramatically.
Before his daughter was born, Kale was more like me, free-spirited and sarcastic and insincere. But since then, she’d become the center of his entire universe and it made him more balanced, even if he had a tendency to be sad since her mom had left them.
So if this moment had happened five years ago, I would have made something up and moved on. But we were both better now, so I whined, “No, I sound desperate,” and spilled my guts about Eliott, the ferris wheel, the hospital, and Eliott’s radio silence since then.
“That doesn’t sound like you at all,” Kale commented when I was done.
“I know, right? I’m being so measured and mature,” I said proudly.
“No, you’re being a dumbass, you dumbass,” he shot back.
“What!”
I could hear him roll his eyes. “Okay, I give you a hundred points for being mature and trying to figure out the right thing to do, instead of just blowing up at him. But he’s dating you, not a clone of himself. It sounds to me like he’s more reactive. Like, you made fun of his car when you met him and told him skydiving makes you horny, and he broke his own rule and went for it, right? And you two banter and I’m sure it’s hot foreplay, but I bet you’re the one who sets the tone. The one who changes the banter from sassy to sexy to kinda sweet?”
Scoffing, I started to tell him he was crazy.
But then I realized that while Eliott seemed like he should be the one with the constant upper hand, the prissy straightlaced top, it wasn’t actually true. He might’ve stood up first at the diner, but I’d propositioned him. He might’ve taken me to the ballet, but I’d bet him he wouldn’t like a ride on my bike first. He might’ve rimmed me until I was in heaven, but I’d demanded he do it first. When I didn’t know what to do, like the first time we’d held hands, he’d been right there with a teasing joke and a challenge to bring me back.
“You might be onto something…”
“Duh!”
“So how are you? I’m sure you didn’t really call me to listen to me and offer advice,” I said, not wanting to totally hijack the call. But it turned out he wanted to complain about work, so my mind drifted a little while I made all the appropriate hums and exclamations.
As soon as he wound down and said he should go to bed, I jumped up and paced around the common area of the apartment, formulating a plan. Not a measured, patient plan to be there, because despite Barley’s solid advice, it clearly just wasn’t working.
I wasn’t going to run over to Eliott’s now. It was too late and I had to be up really early to go with Barley to a local morning show tomorrow. But after that, it was ambush time.
I went to bed, then bounced up when my alarm went off like I always did, but after my shower, I took a lot longer than usual picking out my outfit and doing my hair.
Once I got to the TV station, I was the most helpful, efficient personal assistant, bringing coffee and retying ties and reconfirming the questions that were and weren’t allowed. While Barnyard was being interviewed, I was a master of efficiency answering emails and scheduling things. After the interview was all done, I told Barley that I needed to go take care of something, and he just mussed up my hair and pushed me out of the room.
In preparation for going to see Eliott, I ran a few errands, glad that one of my roommates had let me borrow her car, since my bike didn’t have storage. Once I had everything, I drove to Eliott’s office and parked in a public lot. I popped the trunk, but then I sat down on the back bumper, my heart pumping fast and the back of my neck sweaty.
Two minutes to panic, and then I snapped into action again, getting everything I needed, slamming the trunk shut, and sashaying over and up to Eliott’s office.
“Sasha my darling,” I all but trilled as I pushed into Santos & Zajac. The super cute nerd-chic receptionist lit up when I set down bakery boxes with clear lids on the desk in front of her, flourishing my hands at the four dozen donuts. “I need your help,” I sighed.
She bit her lip and edged one hand closer to one of the boxes, the one with the S’mores donuts. “I would love to, but I feel like your ideas might be disruptive,” she hedged.
Santos & Zajac was a serious place, everyone focused and diligent, and so far, the only exceptions were when people lost their composure for a few seconds the first time they saw Barley, and Sasha. She was all sunshine, even though I knew she could get tough because one time I’d heard her put someone in their place over the phone so neatly, my balls had shriveled up. But I was banking I could convince her to help because she had a gorgeous, tiny square-cut ruby engagement ring on a white gold band and matching wedding ring.
“Between you and me,” I whispered, nudging the lid of the box with S’mores donuts open, “I’ve been seeing Mr. Navarre outside business hours for about five months.”
“I know,” she whispered back.
I didn’t hold back my smile. “Maybe you’ve noticed he’s been—”
She nodded emphatically, cutting me off. “You’re going to fix it?” she demanded. “I know he doesn’t notice, but all of us, other than the senior partners, you know, love him.”
“I didn’t hurt him,” I told her fiercely. “But I need two hours to help fix it, Sasha.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, then swiveled away and tapped at her big, sleek computer, clicking around until I assumed she was looking at Eliott’s calendar. Then she tapped her headset and said a second later, “G, can I move Javier’s 11 with Eliott? No, nothing’s wrong. His boyfriend’s here to try to help cheer him up, so—Exactly. Thanks!”
Frowning, I leaned in a little more. “He’s been that bad? Here?”
“Don’t worry, the bosses haven’t noticed and he hasn’t pissed anyone off, it’s just… we can tell he’s not so happy right now,” she admitted, then took a big bite of a S’mores donut as if she was trying to stop herself from saying more. “Can you wait forty-five minutes?”
“Whatever it takes,” I said with determination.
“Good,” she declared. “Come on, help me bring these donuts back to the break room and then you can hang out in the IT department. Eliott never breaks his technology.”
So I did, distracting myself from my plan by answering the IT people’s detailed questions about the guitars and sound equipment that Barnyard used until it was time.
“Thanks for letting me hang out,” I said, tossing out fist bumps and high-fives. “And I’m serious about those backstage passes for the show next month. I can swing ten.”
“Good luck with Mr. Navarre,” the quietest one said. “He’s nice to us.”
“And doesn’t watch weirdo porn on his work computer,” another muttered.
It cracked me up, just the relief of tension I needed before I left.
Mia stood up when she saw me striding over, putting her purse over one shoulder. She’d warmed up to me, but today she was totally stern as she explained brusquely, “Mr. Sycamore. Sasha and I worked some magic and this suite will be empty for an hour. I’ll lock the outer door. But don’t think those delicious donuts will save you if you fuck this up.”
Grateful she and Sasha had found a way to give us privacy, I nodded emphatically.
With one last warning look, she nodded and left, the lock clicking loudly.
Blowing out a breath, I knocked on Eliott’s office door and then went right in.