NOTE: Check out this week's super emotional read of Chapter 48 by kaelking12!

https://youtu.be/nyTJwARqD7c

CHAPTER 48 

Elias

I think I'm gonna be sick. 

And I don't mean small-time meet-the-parents jitters. I'm talking vomit, pass out, and die in the middle of Lacey's lawn kind of sick. I've been clinging onto her mailbox for the past fifteen minutes just to stay on my feet. 

Her front yard's warping and bending out of shape like somebody stuck it inside a funhouse mirror, but I'm trying to keep it together. For Lacey's sake. And mine. 

I blink a couple times to try to get Lacey's place back in focus, but the heat's still got me seeing double. And this is why I should've asked my mom for a ride or taxied my way over here.

I've never had a bus ride to or from Lacey's that was this bad. Ever. Up until this morning, I thought air conditioning on public transport was a given. Clearly, I was wrong. The drive over here was a cocktail of heat stroke, claustrophobia, and other fun things like mini-anxiety attacks sprinkled along the way. 

Two stops in, everyone and their abuela decided to pack themselves onto Line 30 at the exact same time. I couldn't move, I couldn't sit, I couldn't breathe and that was just the start of things. If suffocating from the stink of forty people's B.O. wasn't bad enough, I sweated straight through my cologne and lost any evidence of the shower I took this morning.

And now I'm here, drenched through my clothes, wondering if I even have it in me to make it from Lacey's mailbox to her front door. You'd think that after walking her home for nearly a month straight that I wouldn't be intimidated by this place anymore, but today I'm struggling to step off the sidewalk. 

Normally, I love it here. Lacey lives in the kind of house I wish me and my mom could escape to. It's the picture of the typical southern Californian home—a humble, one story, stucco place with a red Spanish roof and small garden just big enough for a single family to handle.

There's no need to waste money on things like groundskeepers or exotic plant specialists like my dad does. There's no built in multi-car garage or beach-side view. 

Lacey's place is a lot like her—simple and beautiful. Honest. Walking her back here everyday has started to feel second nature. But standing here alone changes everything. But I have to do this—whether I'm ready for it or not.

I slowly make my way up to the front porch, silently asking God to prevent Lacey's dad from annihilating me, and press the buzzer. I stop breathing when the muffled sound of Pete's footsteps come scuffling to the door. I could run. Just turn my back and take off like I was never here. 

Tanner probably was right. Talking to Pete without Lacey around could completely blow up in my face if I don't nail this conversation. Even if I do, she still might hate me for not telling her about it first. I unconsciously take a step backwards—back toward the street I could easily bolt down if I decide to book it right this second. 

 But then the door opens and out comes Pete. 

He's a lot taller than I remember—and definitely more intimidating. His hair's pastor-neat, perfectly combed on every side while I've barely managed to lock down a decent hair cut. Even in his easy-going grey sweater, house slippers, and Mission Bay athletics sweats, he looks put together. And terrifying. And awesome all at once.

I see why everybody respects this guy. I also see why Tanner and the entire athletic department fangirls over Pete's legacy. He looks like a legend without having to say a word, and I'm the loser who wants to date his daughter. Fantastic.

"Good, morning, sir. You're Mr.S-S-Sanders, right?"

I stutter out his name like my brain's taken the basic speech skills folder and set it on fire. Pete eyes me from behind his glasses, but he looks more concerned than threatened which I think is a good thing.

"I certainly am. Is everything alright, young man? You look like the sun's gotten to you."

I loosen up my tie and swallow a mouthful of mostly dried spit which doesn't help with the whole dehydration problem.

"I-I'm good. July just—sucks, right?"

What the hell, E?

"Well, I wouldn't say that, but it certainly is hot this month. What can I do for you, son? Do you need some water or—"

"Water would be great. But I-I'm actually here to talk to you about your daughter—Lacey?"

Pete's bushy eyebrows lift up in surprise and then furrow with concern.

"Is everything alright? I-I just dropped her off at practice twenty minutes ago so she should be—"

I lift my hands up to stop him.

"She's fine. I'm actually a friend of hers, and I wanted to talk to you about something pretty important before I see her later today after practice. We're both on the softball team, but I skipped today so I could talk to you."

"You—play softball?"

Crap.

"No! No way. I don't really do sports—not that sports aren't important because they are, and I respect them. I'm actually helping out Coach Calloway with the supplies and sports equipment. Just trying to support the team, you know?"

Pete reaches out and slaps me on the shoulder like we've known each other for years.

"That's a respectable job, son. Don't let anyone tell you different. Every sports team needs the people behind the scenes just as much as we need the players on the field. Come on in—uh—"

"Elias."

I extend a hand, and Pete takes it as he opens the door and welcomes me inside his home. The second I step through the threshold, everything good I thought I felt about this place gets amplified ten fold. 

The inside of Lacey's house smells like cinnamon cookies. It's subtle—as subtle as the scent that's always been on her skin, but it's filling the walls in here. I take off my shoes in the foyer, and Pete shows me to their cozy looking 1950s kitchen which comes complete with checkered floor and furniture from back in the day. The Coke-themed bottle cap clock and Johnny rocket style chairs make the whole place feel like it's straight out of a movie. I'm so busy staring at the decorations on the walls and vintage odds and ends around the kitchen that I forget where I am.

"Mr. Sanders—"

"Call me, Pete."

"Pete, your house is beautiful. My mom would love this place. She's got an eye for interior design, but my dad likes things a certain way so she never really gets to be this creative. Did you do all this?"

Pete walks over to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair for me.

"Not at all. I'm helpless in the creativity department. My wife was the visionary around here. She was a big 'I Love Lucy' fan, so the 50's eventually made its way into our home."

I take a seat while Pete rummages around the wooden cabinets for a pair of glasses. It's weird—watching him take his time with things. Not rushing to fill a glass with whiskey the way Dad does most nights. The strangest part of sitting at a table like this is that I've never done it with my dad. He's never offered me anything to drink—much less an honest conversation. 

I've barely been here ten minutes, and I feel more welcome in Pete's presence than I ever have in my dad's. I don't know what that means or why the sight of him grabbing me something to drink is making its way under my skin. But, as small as the gesture is, it's worth remembering.

"What can I get for you, Elias? Aside from water of course. I'm not letting you leave the table until you've rehydrated properly."

Pete cracks open the fridge door and tosses me a bottle of water and then points to two shelves worth of drinks for me to choose from. I spot a bright yellow can of Inca Cola—me and Tanner's favorite when we were kids, and jump at the chance to sip on a little nostalgia.

"The Inca Cola please. I'm crazy about that stuff."

Pete lets out a husky laugh.

"You sound like my daughter. If she asks, don't tell her I gave you the last one, okay? These are like gold to her."

"Secret's safe with me, sir."

I offer Pete a playful salute which he returns before sitting down across from me. He slides me my drink which I expect to be able to open like an actual human being. But my hands are so shaky I nearly spill the whole thing across his table. The can tips in my hands, but I catch it right before I ruin this conversation before it's even started.

"You okay, there? You seem nervous," Pete says.

He doesn't even know the half of it.

"Sorry, I'm not trying to be—it's just this situation is kind of really new to me,"

"And what situation would that be?"

I lift the can of cola to my lips and chug the entire thing to distract myself from having to look at Pete straight. Unfortunately, thanks to my genes and my partying days the chugging is short lived. My drink disappears way too fast and before I know it, I've got nothing left to put off having to start this conversation. I stand up out of my chair, which startles Pete way more than I hoped it would and start blazing through my speech cold-turkey like my life depends on it.

"Well, sir, Mr. Sanders,—I mean Pete—I uh, c-came here today 'cause I wanted to ask you something about Lacey. We've been getting to know each other for a while now, and I don't know if she's told you about me, but I walk her home after practice everyday. We talk a lot about a lot of things. Some things harder than others. I don't exactly come from the best home so it's not easy for me to open up to people about a lot of things. But Lacey's really different. She listens, and she also talks to me about her life—things I don't think she talks about with anyone else. And that's hard to find. People like Lacey are hard to find."

Pete's smile is so wide his mustache perks up at the corners.

"So are you. It's not everyday a kid your age proves himself to be the kind of friend that it seems like you are to my daughter. Thank you for speaking of her so highly. It's an honor."

"Actually, I still have a little more to say. For the last couple days, I've been trying to write down all the things that I admire about Lacey, but if I did that I'd run out of flashcards, and I care about the environment so...I didn't go that far. But she's something else, Pete. I knew that from the first day I saw her and right when she transferred in. Lace is definitely the smartest person I know. She also genuinely cares about people and has helped me deal with a lot of situations I didn't think I could handle. Near the end of the school year, I did something stupid, and I nearly lost the chance to have her in my life. After that happened, I hit a rough patch. I felt kinda lost without her. And that means something because I've had a lot of people come and go—but Lacey was someone who stuck with me. She's important to me, Mr. Sanders. More than I can probably put into words—so I guess what I'm asking is—"

"I'm gonna have to stop you there, Elias."

Pete stands up out of his seat and then crosses the small space between us until he's right next to me. He grips my shoulder, and as much as I wish it was to reassure me, I know what "no" feels like. He doesn't even have to say it.

"But—I didn't even get to ask you—"

"About seeing her, right? You don't have to, son. It's in your eyes. Trust me, I remember that look. My folks said I didn't come off too different after my first date with the woman who eventually became my wife."

"Really?"

"You bet. Come walk with me, I wanna show you something."

Pete starts off toward the living room and motions for me to follow him. I'm so rattled my feet barely feel like they're connected to my body, but I do my best to keep up. He leads me over to the fireplace and directs my attention over to the string of framed photos lined up on the mantle. The first one he points out is one of him, his wife, and a smaller even more adorable Lacey bundled up in her arms. The three of them are smiling like unhappiness couldn't touch them if it tried.

"This is Ana, my wife. And of course you know that little troublemaker she's holding. Lacey was barely one, and she was already crawling all over everything. It was a miracle we were able to get her to sit still long enough for her to take this photo. I don't know if you've noticed it yet, but once my daughter's comfortable, she's got a penchant for adventure. She used to wanna travel the world and do missionary work anywhere she could. She had huge dreams to get out and take life by storm, but a lot of that changed after her mother passed."

Pete's voice stumbles out of his lips at the mention of losing his wife. The air in the room changes the longer he looks at her photograph. Regret coils itself around my throat and squeezes. 

I came in here acting like Lacey going away to Mountain View for a month was the worst thing I could ever go through. Pete lost his whole world. Permanently. I don't even have the right to complain about anything. At least his daughter came back. At least she's still within reach.

"Mr. Sanders, I'm sorry. I didn't know—"

"About her mother?"

"No, she told me she lost her mom, but—I didn't know Lacey was like that before. She's never mentioned anything about wanting to get out into the world or traveling. She mostly talks about softball these days, but—she's really dedicated to the team. She works harder than anybody else at practice. Maybe what she's passionate about just changed."

Pete lets out a slow unsteady breath and then shows me over to a picture of Lacey and her mom standing on the top of the Grand Canyon. She looks about thirteen in the photo and is dressed like she's ready to hike her way across Arizona. 

Lacey's mom's planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek while Lacey's face is bunched up like a prune. Pete's right. She looks different. Happier. More whole than she seems now. I wish I could give her that moment back and that smile. But that's something only her memories can do.

"This one's a hard one for me to keep up here because we lost Ana not too long after this was taken. Lacey was on top of the world that day. She'd always wanted to scale the Grand Canyon with her mom so when her birthday came around, her mother and I surprised her with a trip. She's got a terrible sense of direction so she had no idea where we were driving to until we were within a few miles of the place. She was smiling the whole day like she didn't know how to do anything else."

I do my best to nod and keep myself together in front of Pete, but every word he says is eating away at me. I don't know why life likes to target the little people. Why girls like Lacey have to lose the light in their laughs or the reason behind their smiles. 

She deserved to grow up like everybody else. She deserved to have a million more trips with her mom. But that's not what she got. And, I don't know how to accept that. I don't know how anyone can.

"Pete, I know we don't know each other very well yet, but I hope you'll believe me when I say that I would do anything to make her smile like that again. I promise that from now on, I'll spend every afternoon trying to make her laugh at least three times on the walk home. Four on a good day."

Pete catches me off guard and pulls me into an unexpected but very necessary hug. It's a nice feeling coming from a father figure—even if he isn't mine.

"She's lucky to have you, Elias. I have noticed that Lacey's been coming home in the best mood that I've seen in quite some time. I guess I owe that to you."

"I don't know about that—but I do know what it's like to carry around the kind of heartache you can't really share with people, so laughing's important to me. I like making her laugh 'cause it's nice to see her light up. Even if it's just for a little while. Whenever she smiles, the world doesn't feel as heavy, you know?"

Pete pats his hand against my back and then pulls away from me. He blows out a tuft of air and then looks at me dead-on. His eyes aren't reminiscent anymore. They're serious. Straight-forward. And totally unnerving.

"Elias, I wish I could say 'yes' to you."

"But—I haven't even asked what I was planning to—"

"I know. But I hear it. I feel it in everything you're saying, Elias, and if I genuinely thought my daughter was ready for a relationship, I wouldn't think twice about trusting you to take care of her. But she's still struggling with a lot. Things I'm well acquainted with as her father that I couldn't allow you to take on in good conscience."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Pete runs a hand through his sandy grey hair and takes a second before he answers me.

"Lacey was the one who found her mother, Elias. It was a Friday after school. Lacey'd brought over some friends to study with so I didn't think much of her calling me a few minutes after she got home. I remember how confused she was over the phone because the dinner table was set, the food was all laid out, her mother's car was in the garage, but she couldn't find her. At first, I figured that maybe Ana'd stepped out to go to the store, but she usually drives everywhere so her car being home didn't make much sense. I told Lacey to leave her friends in the kitchen and check her mother and I's bedroom. Lacey can be a bit absent minded so she tends to panic before checking the obvious places, you know?"

A second or two passes in total silence while Pete struggles to find his words.

"—and I remember hearing Lacey trip over the phone. She walked in and caught her foot on Ana's heels. They were in the middle of the floor—which had never happened before. Ana always took off her shoes and asked Lacey and I to leave our shoes at the front door. She liked things clean so—her shoes, there, were just odd, you know? And then as Lacey was sitting up, she saw her mother's feet hanging a couple inches off the ground in our closet, and she made this sound—and I'll never forget it because it was the first time I'd ever heard her like that. I couldn't recognize my own daughter's voice."

"Dad?"

Lacey's voice cuts across the living room, and my heart freezes up in my chest. I stand there studying the hollow look on her face, scrambling to figure out just how long she's been listening. How long me and Pete haven't been paying attention. I glance over at the kitchen wall and check the clock. She should be at practice. Why isn't she—

"Sweetheart—what are you—I thought you had practice—"

"The school cancelled it because of the heat wave. I called you, but you never answered. Now I know why."

Lacey looks right at me with an expression I've never seen before. I don't know if she's disappointed in me for being here without talking to her, or talking about her mom behind her back, but I instantly regret doing both. I should've listened to Tanner. Coming here was a mistake even if the reason for me doing so wasn't.

"Lace, I can explain. I was gonna tell you, but I—"

Lacey lifts her hand to stop me, and I shut up quick. I probably don't even have a right to make excuses right now anyway.

"Elias, I need to talk to my dad. Alone."

I hear what she's saying loud and clear so I apologize to Pete and start heading for the door. Pete reaches out and stops me before I can pass him.

"Hold on, son, I think we should all sit down and talk about this."

"There's nothing left to talk about, Dad! You already told him everything—about mom and about me. You promised you wouldn't do this. You said mom's story was mine to tell to my friends, not yours. Why would you bring her up—especially in front of him?! You know he isn't just anyone, Dad. Elias is—"

"Lacey, Mr. Sanders—I think, I'm gonna go. You guys should talk this out without me around. I'm sorry for causing any trouble."

Lacey and Pete turn to face me, but I can't stomach it. I wave to the two of them, cross the room, and walk out the door before the tension in the air explodes. 

I step outside into the July heat and breathe in the stale air, but the tightness in my chest doesn't let up. I blew it. My body won't let me forget it. I blink and all I can see is the look on Lacey's face when she walked in. I couldn't read it. I couldn't read her. She just seemed blindsided—which is exactly what I didn't want.

I thought coming here would make things easier. I figured clearing things with her dad would clear the way for the both of us. I got everything backwards.

I reach into my suit pocket, pull out my stupid excuse for flashcards, and throw them all over the lawn. I tell myself to just leave them there and walk away like none of it matters. But I can't. I don't even make it ten seconds before I'm back on the ground cleaning up the mess I made.

Right as I pick up the last card, Lacey's front door flies open. She bolts out of the house and heads straight toward me. Pete steps outside and calls after her, but she doesn't stop to listen to him. Pete looks completely exasperated and confused as Lacey widens the distance between them.

I don't know what was said back in the house. I don't want to. But if Pete's face is any indication, I probably just made this situation a whole lot worse for everyone.

Guilt sucker punches me hard and fast to the point where I can't bring myself to face Lacey or Pete anymore. I turn around and start walking away from everything—even though leaving her is the last thing I wanna do.

I don't even get two steps when she catches up to me. Lacey reaches for my arm and turns me around without warning. She's draped in sweat, a hundred little beads are kissing her skin making her glisten in the afternoon sun. I shouldn't be this distracted by her, but I am. Badly.

Her jersey's half-draped off her shoulder, exposing the tiny strap of her tank top pressed against her sun-kissed skin. I shove my hands deep into my pockets to keep from touching her the way I want to. It's getting harder to keep my impulses in check, but I have to. Especially right now.

"What are you doing out here, Lace? I thought you and Pete were—"

"Did you really come all this way just so you could talk to my dad about being with me?"

Lacey's eyes are big, round and exasperated to the point where I couldn't lie to her right now if I tried. Making up another excuse would mean an easy way out. But I can't afford to cut any more corners this morning.

I pull at my tie until it's loose enough for me to breathe.

"Yeah, I did. And I'm s—"

She lifts her finger to shush me, and I swallow my apology like a dry pill.

"What did you do when he said 'no'? Did you accept it?"

"No."

"Why, not?"

"'Cause I'm not taking 'no' for an answer when it comes to you."

Lacey pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and looks away for a beat.

"Even though you know about my mom? That doesn't make any sense, Elias. I'm a mess, and you know that now. My dad—said way too much, but he wasn't lying. I share a lot of things in common with my mom that you shouldn't have to deal with. That you can't—"

"I can take a lot more than people think, Lace. You know that better than anybody."

"Even if that's the case, my dad still rejected you."

"I know."

"Then why aren't you leaving?"

She steps in close, curls her fingers around the lapels of my suit jacket, and pushes me backwards. I barely flinch.

"Because I don't want to."

I close my hands over hers and lean toward her to test the waters. She doesn't move away from me. Her eyes are sincere, intense, and intensely focused on mine. I finally catch a glimpse of the adventurer her dad was talking about. There's layers of uneasiness and doubt threatening to block out the spark, but it's still there fighting its way to the surface. 

I see what she wants but can't ask for. I see her frustration in always trying to do what's best for everybody else but her. So I force her to be selfish. I toe the line again and move closer to her until there's barely an inch of space left between us. 

She gently places her hands on my chest again to stop me, but I don't stop. I push against her to the point where I'm pretty sure she can feel my heart kicking against my ribs whether I want her to or not.

"Elias, we can't—my dad shot down everything so—"

A single tear trails down the length of her cheek. I press my hand against the side of her face to stop it.

"—what are you gonna do about him now? What are you gonna do about me?"

"Whatever it takes."

I kiss her. Hard. I kiss her until she understands that I have no intention of backing down. Until she feels how much I've missed her. Until she knows that I won't let anything or anyone get in the way again.

I kiss her recklessly. Stupidly.

Knowing her dad's watching.

Knowing he's probably furious.

Knowing I just ruined any respect he had for me.

But I don't need his respect. Or his approval.

I just need her.

***

Thank you guys so much for reading/listening this weekend's update! I hope this little bit of romance was a nice end (or beginning) to your Sunday! Next weekend's update should be at the same time unless we say otherwise! 

#RealTalkQuestionoftheWeek

1. How do you think Pete will react to Elias and Lacey's actions? 

2. Have you ever done something that your parents were strongly against? Did they ever come to understand/accept your actions or not?