Thanks for the reviews team! I loveeee them.
Just a reminder that this story is set after Save Benson. She is still dating Cassidy at this time.
He hears the door handle begin to turn and his stomach turns along with it.
He watches her form emerge and she looks like a shell of exhaustion. Her wet hair hangs limply down her face. It's shorter and darker than he remembers and even when damp it's barely long enough to touch her shoulders. She's dressed in women's clothing a size larger than her own and he can see red rims beneath her bloodshot eyes.
A pang of guilt hits in his chest at what he has put her through tonight.
"You okay?" He asks her, barely holding eye contact from his obvious question.
He can see her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the shower but it doesn't disguise how pale her complexion has become since the accident. He drags his eyes away. He can barely look at her anymore.
"I need water," she speaks to his bowed head and he hears the flatness of her words as if all her emotion had been exhausted in the shower. He waits a few moments before he gets up, mindful of his newly dressed wound as he moves over to the shopping bag.
He had stopped in at a gas station while she had been asleep and collected vodka, painkillers, water and a bag of trail mix. He snapped off a bottle of water from the 6-pack and handed it to her, their eyes connecting briefly.
She takes it, twists off the cap off and downs the liquid in one go. When she finishes the entirety she puts the empty bottle onto the side table with a heavy exhale.
"I should check out your shoulder," her tells her stepping forward. "And disinfect any open cuts-"
"I need to use your phone," she cuts him off bluntly before he gets too close.
His stomach drops at her request. The question catches him off guard but more to the point he knows that tone. It's her hostage negotiation tone, the kind of approach she'd use if she felt cornered. The kind she'd apply if she felt she was being detained against her will.
She's trying to gain control.
"Liv," he begins, attempting to disarm her fear.
"I need to call the station, tell them I'm okay." She says evenly and his jaw clicks. He watches her eyes move across to the side table. "There's no phone in the room," she notes calmly. "I really need to make that call Elliot."
"Liv-" he tries.
His eyes move slowly between hers. He can see the emotion starting to steadily build within her irises. She's getting desperate. He wonders who is waiting for her back at the station.
Her captain. Her colleague. Her new partner.
Someone else.
He considers the mood shift she's had since the shower, the thought process she would have gone through. Had she officially decided she'd had enough of his B.S.? Has it all caught up with her? Was she done with this?
With him.
He couldn't blame her.
But he also couldn't let her make that call.
"You know I can't," he tells her firmly, almost pleading with her not to push it.
She stares back at him blankly, unmoving.
"You can call them," he tells her carefully. "But not from this motel - and not tonight," he explains. "Trust me."
He feels the shift immediately as she takes a step backward and he can tell she's about to lose it. She's grasping the suitcases on the bed, starting to rustle through the clothes in search of his phone.
"I'm done trusting you Elliot," she rasps over her shoulder. "Where is it?"
He steps closer, attempting to calm her down as she frantically pulls clothes, toiletries, items out of two strangers suitcases.
"Stop," he raps. "You're only going to hurt your shoulder."
When she doesn't find what she's looking for she turns her attention to him, moving towards his waist, patting down the sides of his jeans, stepping in closer until she is reaching for his back pocket.
Her fingers brush his phone and he grabs her bicep gently, moving her away from him until he is lowering his lips to her ear.
"Listen," he rasps. "We didn't come this far, just to come this far."
The room stills and she doesn't move at first until suddenly she is shaking herself out of his hold, pushing him back in one clean motion. He sees the fire burning in her eyes at the fact that he'd grabbed her again. His heart thuds in his chest at that one look. The one she has given him multiple times throughout the night. The one that makes him feel something has gone horribly wrong.
What happened Liv?
She sees the question in his eyes.
But she changes gears.
"You may not have anyone waiting for you Elliot," she stabs back shakily. "But I do."
Her words slam into him. He doesn't know what to do with that, with her. She's gone from non-emotive to a fiery rage in the space of sixty seconds. He thinks about her words. They sting. He hasn't checked in with his family in years. Three to be exact. It still feels as raw as yesterday. And yet she has someone eagerly awaiting her return.
She is watching him uncover this information piece by piece and can see the impact it's having on him.
"Give me the phone Elliot," she demands. "Now."
There is something about the look she is giving him, the tone, the stonewall she erected between them the moment she'd stepped out of the shower.
He needs to tell her that despite it all, none of this will matter tomorrow, that at the first sign of light he is going to drive her to the bus station and have her board the first bus back to New York. He knows he should come clean with her, explain in as much detail as he can to account for his actions tonight. But it's the look in her eyes that she is giving him, the one that tells him he's dead to her that makes him reassess.
Someone else is waiting for her.. so at the end of the day nothing he could say would matter.
'Give me the phone Elliot.' He sees the demand still ripe on her tongue but she should know better than to ask.
And he knows better than to answer.
"Get some sleep Olivia," he rasps. "We leave at daybreak."
TBC
