#Sierra and Beans | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

say-hwaet · 1 month ago

Text

High Sierra: A Red Dead Redemption Story

Chapter 14: Stay Previous Chapter Chapter Summary: Now that Arthur is finally awake, there are some things that need to come out in the open. The question is, how? Warnings: Mature themes, Foreplay Word Count: 12,400 words (longer chapter, but I couldn't figure a good place to break it. Sorry!)

Three days have passed since Arthur regained consciousness and Eliza has hardly left the hospital. Almost every time he has woken up, there she is, waiting. Her devotion hasn't gone unnoticed, but every time he tries to gather the courage to tell her how he truly feels about her, they are either interrupted by a nurse checking in or he chickens out.

He can face a murderer and drug dealer amidst a fiery inferno but he can’t even say “I love you” to a woman?

But that’s just it, this isn’t just any woman. This is Eliza.

Arthur has begun to wonder about her. How has she been able to be at the hospital all the time? Does she have a lot of time off work saved? It would make sense, considering the hours she’s put into her job, but where is Isaac? Is he with Hosea and Bessie?

He misses his son. He wants to see him.

It is early afternoon and Nurse Amy has just finished checking Arthur’s vitals. It is good timing too, for his lunch was just brought in and he’s starving.

“I can see the drool on your face,” Nurse Amy teases and after taking her stethoscope out of her ears and letting them rest against her neck, she personally brings the tray of food into Arthur’s lap. “You act as though you haven’t ever had a decent meal.”

Arthur immediately grabs a fork. “Don’t let her hear you say that…” he chuckles.

With his fork he points to Eliza, who is sitting in a chair near the adjacent wall, looking through a newspaper. She looks up from the pages and raises a brow. “Don’t you worry, I’ll cook you plenty once you check out of here.”

Arthur’s heart can’t help but skip a beat. To even lightly mention cooking his meals means so much more than just a kind deed from her heart. It implies something. That they’ll be seeing each other often.

He can only smile once her eyes meet his, but he quickly looks back down to work on his meal. He lifts the metal covering and reveals a chicken fried steak with green beans and a biscuit. Well. It could be worse. Taking his fork, he cuts into the breaded chicken and takes a bite. It definitely isn’t Eliza’s cooking. It needs salt and maybe some herbs. But he isn’t about to say anything and complain, being raised to eat what he’s offered.

“Okay, Mr. Morgan,” says Nurse Amy in a sing-song voice as she approaches the large oxygen machine. “Let’s give those lungs of yours a little break for a while.” And with a gentle push of a button, The nurse switches Arthur's oxygen back on. As a routine, she'll turn it off in five hours. Hopefully, after weaning him from the help of oxygen day by day, he won't need it at all. Regardless, Arthur has been doing better, which gives Eliza hope.

The nurse smiles at Arthur. “I will check back on you in a while okay?” And after offering a smile toward Eliza, she leaves the room.

A peaceful silence falls in the room, aside from the crinkling of the newspaper as Eliza turns a page and the clinking of Arthur’s fork on his plate as he continues to eat away at his chicken. It’s quite comforting, now that he can sit up and not cough every few seconds. He has never liked people worrying or fawning over him, and the sooner he gets out of this hospital, the better.

The image of Hosea' and Bessie’s worried faces still haunt him. He could tell that they were trying to be strong for him, to not let him berate himself for their worry, but there wasn’t much that his parents could hide from him. He’s grateful to have parents who do care, otherwise, he’d be in a much more terrible situation. If being nearly burned alive and ending up in a hospital was what it took to get the folks he does have, he’d go through with it a hundred times over.

But there is much more to be thankful for.

He eyes Eliza as she calmly reads the paper, her brown eyes scanning across the pages. She’s always been a fast reader. She can go through books like a kid with a bag of jellybeans. It’s always made him quite curious as to how you could ever take an interest in such things, but he supposes that’s the best thing about being different. And he’s glad, too, for Isaac also has developed a love for reading, making him an avid learner at school.

But something seems to really grab your attention with that paper. It is the local paper, so maybe she’s reading the most relevant news.

Arthur swallows and clears his throat. "Eliza?" Arthur asks. After a second or two, she slowly looks up from her paper. He licks his chapped lips. "Does it say anything more about the fire? Or Micah in there?"

She flips back to the front page and skims over it. "No, it doesn't. I wasn't even looking for it."

"Then, what are you reading?"

She doesn't look up from the paper, avoiding his gaze. "The help wanted section."

He blinks, there’s only one reason why she could be doing that. "What? Why?"

She hesitates, but after a moment, she slowly lifts her eyes to meet his gaze, exhaling slowly. "I quit Bronte's."

Eliza has been working there for ten years. She worked her way up from washing dishes to managing the place. Years of hard work to quit? This is unlike her. "Woah, really? Why did you quit? What happened?"

She shrugs. Eliza wants to spare Arthur most of the details. She’s kept most of her work life private, knowing what Arthur would do, even if their own relationship has been rocky. Arthur is loyal to a fault, and if he caught wind of the things that Bronte has said and done over the years, he would do more than just share words with the business owner. "A lot of things. I was tired of Mr. Bronte. He made several "propositions" that I refused, and he was mad that I had to take time off to be here with you. Your parents were kind enough to take Isaac so I could be here."

Arthur feels anger building up inside him, his protective nature seething in his tone. "What kind of propositions?"

Eliza remains silent, speaking volumes without saying a word. He clenches his fists, nearly turning his apple into applesauce. "Had I known, I'd–"

She quickly stands up, holding out a hand as she sets the paper down in her chair. "That's why I never told you. I needed my job, but now I realize there are other things that are more important." Eliza walks over to his bed and sits down without encroaching on his space. She studies his angered expression and worried that he will go into a coughing fit, she tries to reassure him by giving him a comforting smile.

And just as Arthur parts his lips to speak, they hear a tap on the door. After a short pause, the doctor comes walking in, face nonchalant but welcoming.

"Good morning." He turns to Eliza and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I expected you'd be here this morning."

Eliza quickly rises from Arthur’s bed, clearing her throat. "Good morning, doctor."

He pulls out the clipboard from under his arm and flips to a page, taking out his pen. "Nurse Amy gave me his vital results, but humor me: has he been coughing much since you've been here?"

Eliza glances back at Arthur, who is calming down and has set his apple back on the tray in his lap. "Only once, but he was just put on oxygen."

He nods and notes something down on his clipboard. "Very good. That just confirms things for me."

No longer interested in his meal, Arthur sets his lunch tray on the end table next to his bed. "Is everything alright, doc?"

"Yes. I have good news, Mr. Morgan. Since you woke up, you've been making a steady recovery. You've beaten the odds against you."

Arthur likes where this is going and sits up more in his bed. "So...I get to go home?"

The doctor grins broadly, nodding his head. "In two days, yes. We just want to make sure the oxygen is helping you. You'll be on it for a couple more weeks and we will prescribe the medicine you have been taking.”

Arthur smiles. “That’s great news, I’ve been eager to get back to workin’ with Charles and—”

The doctor holds up a hand, his smile fading. “Just a moment, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur blinks and looks at Eliza. She doesn’t look perplexed. Her eyes are soft, empathetic, and she turns to look at the doctor. “He’s not going back to work is he?”

And when he sees the doctor nod, Arthur feels his heart sink a little. “Because your body is still in recovery, Mr. Morgan, you are prohibited from returning to work until we have cleared you. You will need someone to help look after you for a few weeks. Now, we can have a home health nurse check on you—"

But Eliza cuts him off. "I'll do it."

Arthur and the doctor turn to Eliza. She shrugs her shoulders. "I have the time and I am used to taking care of our son, who has cancer."

The doctor nods thoughtfully, considering the suggestion before turning back to Arthur. The room falls silent as all eyes turn to the patient lying in the hospital bed. His gaze meets Eliza's and a rush of warmth overcomes him, causing his heart to swell with emotion. He tries to maintain his composure, but a small smile betrays his true feelings. "I’m fine with that," he says calmly, though inside he is filled with gratitude for her presence by his side during this difficult time.

"Great. I took the liberty to bring up the paperwork with me if you both would like to sign."

Eliza nods softly and approaches the doctor. "Sure."

He flips through the pages on the clipboard and using the pen, indicates where she should sign. She quickly signs it and then the doctor hands it to Arthur. He signs his name and taking it back, the doctor sighs, satisfied. "Alright, that should do it. Pending on how the test comes back in two days, you should be good to go, Mr. Morgan."

"Thank you, doctor."

The doctor nods, then turns to leave. Once he is out of hearing range, Eliza goes to sit back down next to Arthur on his bed.

Silence tends to be the thing that happens between them. It is not unbearable, or uncomfortable, but there is always a lingering thought in the back of Eliza’s mind. A question, something that she’s been meaning to ask, but has never had the gumption to bring forward. But, now that things have settled, and there is more hope for Arthur’s recovery, she has the courage to ask.

"Arthur," she begins, "why did you list your relationship with me on your emergency contact list as 'wife?' I thought you listed me as a friend of the family."

Arthur's expression changes and his eyes shift briefly. He had almost forgotten he had done that. After a moment he sighs and runs a hand through his tousled hair. He knew he had to tell her, but it would also share too much. "Eliza, I–I had meant to tell you, but I wanted you to be an emergency contact. They wouldn't let me list you differently." That isn’t the full truth. At the time, their relationship was changing. But when Mary showed up, he didn’t think things would have resulted in how they did. And with all of that investigating, sneaking around, asking questions, he was asking his own heart and mind questions. He was searching his heart for what he wanted, and when things began to get dangerous, he wanted to make provisions in the event things went wrong, even if it meant lying a little in his health disclosures. But he doesn’t want to bring that up now.

Eliza looks at him and feels her heart sink a little, hoping that it is something different, but tries to make light of the situation. "Oh. They didn't have 'it's complicated?'"

Arthur chuckles, shaking his head. "I guess not."

They are silent again. Nothing new. Nothing has changed.

Well, some things have changed, and Arthur has more concerns now.

"You don't have a job anymore," Arthur says softly, concern lacing his voice. "I can't have you takin’ care of me."

Eliza furrows her brow, crossing her arms as she meets Arthur’s gaze with intense eyes. "Why not? I want to. It makes the most sense."

"But what are you going to do for work?"

Eliza shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. "I have enough money saved to cover rent for a little while. I've started looking for a new job, so I am hopeful."

Arthur isn’t satisfied. "But that could take a while."

And she isn’t going to argue. She sighs, regretfully. "Yes, it could. But I'll make due. I have had worse happen to me, financially."

Arthur's expression softens and he feels his heart pull towards her. Perhaps he could do something. Maybe? No, that would be crazy.

On the other hand, crazier things have happened.

Arthur swallows thickly, giving him a chance to find the words. "Why don't you and Isaac stay at my place for a while? It's big enough, and you both will have a place to stay."

Eliza shakes her head and he can already feel the ache in his chest. "I don't want to push ourselves on you, Arthur. Not after what we talked about."

And taking a risk, he reaches out to place his hand on hers as it rests on the bed. She doesn’t pull away, giving him a jolt of excitement he felt he wasn’t allowed to have. "You're not. Believe me. This could also save you a trip in gas money, and we'd be close to my parents, should we need anythin’."

Eliza's brows furrow in uncertainty, but after a brief moment of hesitation, she gives a reluctant nod. "I suppose we can do this, Arthur. But just for a short time. Until I can get a job." She bites her lip, worry etched on her face as she contemplates the uncertain future ahead of them. The weight of her decision hangs heavily in the air between them, knowing that this may change things, that this might draw her closer to him. And it scares her.

Arthur lifts his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "That's fine."

But deep down, he hopes it will be forever.

***

With Eliza at the wheel, she and Arthur pull up to his house. It sits on the edge of a forest and, as with all country properties, the only way to it is either by horseback, four-wheeler, or a long, rough, gravel driveway. Eliza’s car can handle it, thankfully, as long as she takes it slow and avoids the big divots. Arthur didn’t complain the whole way up, or correct her driving, so she must have done something right.

It has been a while since Eliza has been up here, in fact, it was before Isaac got cancer. She remembers there being a rustic cabin look to the house, but it is larger. It has three bedrooms, and why Arthur bought it, she'll never understand. For Arthur, it was all about location, and upon getting his job as a game warden, it was like a present to himself. At the time, he thought that if he bought a house and made a good enough home, it would win Mary back, but she had already married. In retrospect, he is glad Mary has never seen it.

Hosea and Bessie will be coming by later to bring Isaac, so Eliza wants to freshen up his room for him. Eliza will be staying in the guest room, of course. She doesn’t mind.

She’s sat in the car long enough. Turning to Arthur, she asks, “You ready to get out?”

He doesn’t speak? But answers by nodding his head.

They both get out of the car, Arthur takes his time, as he navigates getting out with the portable oxygen tank he has to cart around for a few hours each day. Looking at Arthur gives Eliza flashbacks to when Isaac had one. His health couldn’t be hidden now and after trying to keep it under wraps, strangers would stare and children would point. Isaac didn’t seem bothered with it, but oh, did it bother her. And after being on oxygen for so long, Doctor Dorkins had feared the cancer had spread to his lungs, but thankfully it never has and hopefully, it never will.

Eliza comes around to the passenger side to check on Arthur, who is not yet out of the car. "Are you good, Arthur?"

"Shoah," he grunts, finally standing on his own two feet and closing the car door. "It's been a while since I've had to move about.” He pants, laughing weakly. “It's good for me."

If he wants to be mobile, it may be best to have a gentle introduction to activity. Knowing Arthur, he’d try to hike ten miles if he got the inking. Eliza tentatively places a hand on Arthur’s arm, for the sake of touch alone rather than for support. "Maybe if you're up to it, Isaac and I can take walks with you down the driveway."

He nods, his marine eyes meeting hers. "Sounds good."

Eliza smiles softly as she steps away, heading to the back of her car, and opens the trunk. She grabs a suitcase in one hand and swings one of Isaac's treatment kits on her shoulder. She looks at Arthur’s raised brow and smiles with a grunt. "Well, lead the way."

Turning towards the house, Arthur walks at a steady pace up the rest of the driveway and Eliza follows, watching him closely. The stairs slow him down a little bit, but she doesn't want to rush him or push him.

As he takes the next step, he looks back at her over his shoulder. “Ain’t you gonna say anythin’?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You really think I’m that impatient?”

He just chuckles, facing ahead again, and carefully takes the next step. Once he reaches the top, he steps aside to let her pass and she hurries to the door with his key. She unlocks it with ease and after opening the door, they finally make it inside.

Eliza starts to reacquaint herself with the house. She remembers the big painting on the living room wall and the wood counters in the kitchen in the far left corner. To the immediate right is the dining room. Passing through the kitchen is a hallway that leads to the den. Beyond the dining room is a set of stairs that leads to the guest bathroom and bedrooms. All clean and tidy, the air smelling of cedar and wintergreen, but still with the air that someone lives here, with dining chairs not pushed in and several coats hanging by the door and muddy boots resting beneath.

"Do you remember your way around?" Arthur asks, interrupting her thoughts.

She nods slowly, her eyes still roaming about the place. "It's coming back to me."

"Okay. I'm going to get myself something to drink then take a long bath.” He starts to make his way into the kitchen, carting the oxygen tank behind him. You want anythin’?"

Eliza takes a step, but it’s small and hesitant. "Some water would be fine."

He was half-expecting her to ask for a whiskey, after all they've gone through the past few weeks, but leave it to Eliza to be a little unpredictable. "Shoah." Teaching the kitchen, he rests against the counter for a minute, and when he lists his head, he sees Eliza staring at him. “I’m fine, Eliza.”

But she isn’t convinced, for her brow pinches. “I can get myself some water if—”

Arthur cuts her off. “If I can’t get water in my own house, then I ain’t much use to anyone. You’ve been talkin’ about gettin’ Isaac’s room all squared away,” he says as he waves her off. “so go on. Don’t you worry about me none.”

He sees the hesitancy in her eyes, but after a moment or two, she relents. “Alright.” Turning to head into the dining room, she sets the kit down on the table and heads for the stairs.

***

Eliza finishes freshening up Isaac's room and putting her things in the guest room. Coming down the stairs, she hears talking and she tunes into what is going on.

"...Yeah, I'm fine. Abigail probably exaggerated everything. Remember, she's a pediatric nurse, so her perspective is kids all day. I ain't no kid." Arthur then laughs and coughs for a minute. "...Oh, shut up, John. It sounds worse than it is, really...Now I sound like you...It's a joke, Marston!..." He sighs while listening to whatever John is saying. Peeking around the wall that supports the stairs, she sees Arthur sitting on the couch, his legs propped up on his coffee table. And as Eliza gets a good look at his face, Arthur’s jovial expression changes to a sobering one. "Me too, John. Me too...Yeah, she's...she's here, too."

Eliza freezes and steps back up the stairs. He's talking about her.

He pauses to hear John speak and in his reply, his tone has a tinge of embarrassment. "It ain't like that...she's just makin’ shoah that I stay out of trouble...oh that? Well, that's over...Yes, John, for good this time. Yeah. It took me long enough, don't rub it in...I have to cut ties with her. We've gone different ways..."

Eliza's heart plummets to the depths of her chest. Cut ties? Her mind swirls with conflicting emotions and confusion. Will he sever their connection once he's fully recovered? What course of action should she take? All she is certain of is her unwavering love for him, a tether that cannot be easily broken or abandoned. She can’t just cut ties. One can't close a vein to the heart.

And a sinking feeling fills her gut, guilt for eavesdropping on his conversation. Hope it to save him some semblance of privacy, she decides to make herself known by stepping down the stairs loudly. She walks past the dining room table and across the way into the living room. Arthur, now clean and in a nice shirt and jeans, looks up from the couch, sees her, and smiles.

"Hey, Eliza,” he points to the phone at his ear. “It’s John."

She waves. "Hi, John."

"She says 'hi.'...He says hello."

Eliza's lips curve up into a bright smile as she gracefully sinks into the plush armchair, crossing her legs in her signature relaxed posture. She exudes an air of ease and comfort, always finding a way to make herself at home no matter where she is.

Arthur nods as his attention turns back to his phone call with John. "Yeah, I'll let you go. We'll see you when you get off tour, right?...Sounds good. Bye, brother." He hangs up and looks at his watch. His eyes are cast down to the oxygen tube running from his nose down to the oxygen tank that sits beside him. He sighs, letting some of his frustration escape. "When do I get to take this oxygen off?"

"In an hour," Eliza answers matter-of-factly.

Arthur looks at her, impressed. "You didn't have to look at a clock to know that, did you?"

"Working in the food industry and administering cancer treatment does that to you."

Arthur chuckles softly, nodding his head knowingly. "I guess…” Then he clicks his tongue, suddenly remembering what he had set out to do in the kitchen. “That water you wanted is on the counter. It's been there a while, though, and may not be as cold as it would have been comin’ right from the well."

Eliza shrugs her shoulders. The water has always been cold at Arthur’s. Too cold for her teeth and too cold at first when she’s used the shower. "Oh, that's fine. I had forgotten about it." She unfolds her legs and gets out of the chair. Arthur can’t control himself as he eyes her graceful steps toward the kitchen, her hips swaying. He coughs and feels the kink in his neck for turning too harshly.

Eliza’s feet pad softly on the kitchen floor, the tile cool under her. She takes the glass off the counter and drinks it slowly until it is all gone. Crisp, fresh, just like the water in the city. She sets the glass down in the sink and returns to the living room, sitting back down in her favored chair.

"How does it feel to be home?" she asks, attempting to start up a normal conversation, despite her mind lingering on the words Arthur had shared with John.

He leans deeper into the couch, relaxing more. "It feels good. I've never liked hospitals."

She chuckles to herself, tucking her chin. "I know."

"I got a text from my friend Charles. He's doin’ good."

Eliza knows that is a big comfort to Arthur, as he had been concerned for his friend for the entire duration of his hospital stay. "That's good."

"Yeah. I'm glad he didn't get as bad as me. You know, he didn't hesitate to go after Micah? And he has been a warden for not even a year yet. He's a man you'd want in your corner."

Eliza has thought about that. Many times. If she ever gets the chance to meet him, she wants to thank him in person. God knows that Arthur needs people in his life that he can trust. "He sounds really brave."

"More than brave. It's like he has no bit of fear in his body.” At his words, he bows his head, slapping his hands together in his lap. “ I wish I could be like that."

As though running into a burning forest was cowardice. Eliza has always known that Arthur is his worst enemy, always quick to deprecate himself or refuse a compliment. If she could change one thing about him, it would be his own self-awareness, she has always desired for him to recognize his own value. She leans forward in her chair, her eyes looking at him with a purposeful gaze. “You are, Arthur. Sometimes fear can warn us before we do something reckless."

"...I guess."

Well, that’s better than flat-out denial.

Eliza exhales slowly and turns to look out the window in the adjacent wall as she mindlessly plays with her hair. The view, even from where she sits, is beautiful. The trees are tall and full, secluding them completely in the wilderness. While others would find it suffocating, she finds it comforting. When she worked as a waitress, she had to be seen, be called out to, full exposure so she could be ready to assist and direct those who worked her shift. But here, there’s none of that; just the silence, the trees, and a large piece of sky.

And as though reading her thoughts, Arthur asks, "How does it feel to be back here? It's been a while.” He waits for an answer as he takes a sip of his drink.

"It's...different. The last time I was here was when Isaac was four."

Her answer surprises Arthur and his eyes widen in surprise. Has it really been that long? "What?"

Isaac has been over here long since, but with everything at her job and trying to keep up with life, she didn’t find it in her to re-enter that part of her and Arthur’s relationship. This house is a stark reminder of what had been lost between them. And yet, as she sits in the chair, tucking her legs further beneath her, she can’t help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over her. This new arrangement, this unfamiliar territory, seemed out of place in their once-perfect world. "Yeah."

"Hell, really? Wow."

"Mmmhm. You pretty much came to our house most of the time."

Arthur nods, knowing that was when Isaac’s cancer journey began, the tumor growing inside him and none of them knew. "You're right."

The silence hung heavy in the air between them, both lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Eliza's restless energy breaks through as she leaps out of her chair with a sense of urgency. "Isaac and the rest will be here soon," she announced, already making her way towards the kitchen. "I should prepare something for dinner." The sound of her footsteps echo off the hardwood floor and once she enters the kitchen, the clanging of pots and pans begin to create a symphony in the bustling kitchen as she moves about. The anticipation of Isaac, Bessie, and Hosea’s arrival adds an extra spark to her movements as she begins to peruse Arthur’s wares.

He motions to rise, the action taking longer than it normally would. "You don't have to do that. I can order something in."

She starts searching his fridge. "No, I want to." Reaching inside, she grabs a bell pepper and some tomatoes, setting them on the counter. Not taking a moment to pause, she goes to the freezer and looks through it, finding some frozen, chopped organic chicken.

"Well, I guess you're making yourself at home," Arthur says with a hint of sarcasm.

Eliza's tone doesn't change from plain and focused, completely undeterred from her task. "I know my way around a kitchen."

"I won't argue with you on that," he finishes rising from the couch and begins to make his way over. "Can I help?"

She doesn't seem to have heard him as she continues rummaging through his spice cabinet. "Do you happen to have any cumin?"

"On the middle shelf, on the left,” he answers, and she grabs it along with garlic and onion powder. Arthur makes his way past the counter, dragging his oxygen behind him, just as she grabs a cast iron pan that is hanging on a metal rack. "What're you makin’?"

"Chicken tacos."

His stomach nearly growls at the proposition, the promise of spices and flavors being anything better than the bland hospital food. "Sounds tasty. Can I help?"

She quickly glances at him, offering a soft smile. "I've got it, Arthur, thank you." When he doesn’t move, she gently shoos him away. "You go on and relax for a little bit."

A sudden sense of distance between them causes his brow to furrow in confusion. What has caused this change in her? He can feel the space growing wider and wider, like a river widening into an ocean. "Eliza?" His voice is tinged with concern and a hint of fear, as if he might lose her in this vast expanse that now separates them.

She turns away again. "Where are your cutting boards?" She’s deflecting. Or something. He doesn’t know all the terminology, but she is clearly up to something. Or nothing.

"In the bottom cupboard by the sink…” he answers, then he takes a tentative step forward. “Eliza?"

She looks back at him again, nearly snapping at him. "What?"

"What's wrong?"

She remains still for a moment, her eyes searching his face. She wants to be open, but, as usual, fear gets in her way. She looks away and bends down to pick out a cutting board. "Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

She takes a moment to collect her thoughts, her hands resting on the edge of the kitchen counter. With a heavy exhale, she sets down the cutting board and rubs her tired eyes. "I'm just tired, I guess," she admits with a weary tone, her shoulders slumping.

Letting go of the handle to his oxygen cart, he offers a hand. "Then let me help you. Please? I need to do somethin’ other than sit on the couch. We can do it together."

Eliza hesitates for a moment. It is wrong for her to be doing this to him. She promised she wouldn't let her anger cloud her love for him and this is the closest they have been in weeks. Months. After a moment of cognitive dissonance, she finally relents. "Okay." And she turns to put the rinsed chicken in the cast iron pan with some olive oil.

Arthur smiles, sighing softly. "Thank you. I know how you get when you're in the kitchen."

She looks up from the sizzling chicken, still tossing it with a wooden spoon. "How I get?" she asks with a raised brow.

He comes behind her, and her heart races at his proximity. She’s been wrestling with her emotions for days and now that they are together, here, in his house, alone, she’s coming face to face with each and every thought, worry, and musing about where they are and where she wants to go. He acts like he doesn’t notice how his torso gently presses against her back as he reaches into a nearby drawer, pulling out a knife. "Well, yeah. You've always been territorial."

She scoffs, trying to take her mind off the heat of his body. "I'm not that bad."

His warm, gravelly chuckle nearly makes her jump and when he finally moves away from her, she feels a sharp ache from his absence. "Yes, you are." He turns away and, reaching the other counter, he begins to cut the bell pepper into thin slices.

She looks over her shoulder at him for a minute. The slump of his shoulders is evident, despite his upbeat attitude. His movements are slower than normal, and she hears him take a deeper breath. She eyes the oxygen tubes that wrap behind and over his ears and into his nose. His eyes are still a little red from irritated sinuses, but thankfully, the doctor said that should clear up once he’s been exposed to the clear air up here. All in all, he looks pathetic to her, precious even.

She finds herself setting down the wooden spoon and turning the heat down just a tad, her eyes never leaving his weakened form. In a moment of vulnerability, she comes behind him and, without saying a word, wraps her arms around his waist. This startles him, but he soon relaxes when he feels her head rest against his broad, muscular back. He knows he isn’t as strong as he was a few weeks ago, and can’t help but wonder if she can tell. He feels almost embarrassed, nearly speaking out loud a promise that he will get strong again, as though he needs to apologize. But he says nothing, and just sets his knife down, remaining still.

Eliza closes her eyes and listens to him breathe. There is a little wheeze here and there, but she needs to remind herself that isn’t important. He’s alive. She's glad that he's alive. Tired from his wrestle with death, but still alive.

"Are you alright, Eliza?" Arthur asks once again, his voice laced with genuine concern.

He only feels her hold him tighter, her fingernails gently grazing his abdomen, and he feels goosebumps rise under his shirt. He maneuvers in the space between her and the counter, making sure he doesn't get tangled up in the oxygen tubes. Accommodating his movements, Eliza loosens her grip and he makes the full turn to face her. He looks into her eyes and sees an ache inside their expression. Something is wrong and he wishes that she would just tell him.

But if he’s learned anything, it’s to be patient.

Initially moving slowly, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest. She follows his pull, letting her ear rest above his heart. His heartbeat is steady, mighty, and she takes a deep breath. The room is silent but for the occasional sizzle of the cooking chicken and the wisp of the oxygen tank as it runs through a cycle.

Her body still holding tightly to Arthur, she lifts her head and leans back. Their eyes meet again. In their own hearts, they feel something. It’s undeniable, but neither is unsure of what to make of it. It’s different, but familiar all at the same time. Smiling gently, Arthur lifts his left hand to brush some hair gently away from Eliza’s face.

And it is then that she smiles, it is soft and warm, like a summer’s day, when the light cast its glow through a kaleidoscope of green. He feels himself bowing down toward her, his breath shaky from the rush now flooding through his heart. Surprisingly, she doesn't move away, but moves closer to him. Her heart pounds against her ribcage, anticipating something she has wanted for a while, but has been too afraid to act on.

But then, breaking the spell, is a knock on the door.

Eliza quickly, but gently, pushes herself away from him, clearing her throat. "That's probably them."

Arthur exhales, blinking quickly, as he takes a gentle step back. “Yeah.” As quick as he can muster, he turns back around to cut vegetables. Stepping around his oxygen tank, Eliza goes to answer the door.

As she leaves the kitchen and enters the living room, she can hear the voices behind the wooden door, buzzing with anticipated excitement. Little do they know what almost happened just on the other side. Steeling herself with a casual smile, she reaches for the doorknob and opens the door.

"Mommy!" Isaac runs into her and wraps his arms around her hips. "Did you miss me? I missed you!"

She combs through his short hair with her fingers. She can’t help but smile, the subtle change being a sign of hope. “Of course, I did, baby." Gently prying his arms from her hips, she takes a step back and to the side. "Guess who's also here?"

Isaac looks past her and sees his hero, his daddy, who has left the counter and stepped into the living room. Arthur attempts to squat down, masking his struggle as his legs shake, and he extends his arms. Isaac gasps excitedly and makes the motion to rush towards him, but upon seeing the oxygen tank and the tubes, Isaac hesitates, his shoes squeaking on the wood floor.

Arthur gives him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, partner. I won't be usin’ oxygen forever."

"So, it's not cancer, Dad?"

Arthur's heart aches at his son's question, but he keeps the smile on his face. "No, son. I promise you it ain’t cancer." Isaac’s smile returns and he runs into his father's arms. Arthur holds him tight, managing to keep his balance. “I missed your tight hugs, Partner,” Arthur sighs.

Eliza steps further aside from the door as Hosea and Bessie come in, carrying with them Isaac’s belongings.

"Well look at that," says Hosea as he lovingly spectates the reunion. "Now that's a beautiful sight if I ever did see one."

Arthur looks up and sees his parents, who set down Isaac's things in the family room. Letting go of his son, he slowly rises to a standing position with a soft grunt. "Hi, Dad. Hi, Mom."

"Hello, son," Bessie beams. "It's so good to see you home again."

Arthur looks at Eliza, who makes her way back to the kitchen to continue cooking dinner. As she brushes past him, their eyes lock for a moment, a sudden jolt going through him, reminding him of what could have happened if they weren't interrupted. Even though he still hasn't fully recovered, his heart and body don't seem to care.

"I'm glad to be home too, Mama."

***

August. A month has passed since Arthur returned home from the hospital. One would never have guessed that he was even there, for he has received the best care that he could possibly get. As he got back on his feet, Eliza remained by his side, making sure he ate well and got his rest. Isaac has relished in walking with him every day and has since learned how to help turn his oxygen off and on. But now, the oxygen tank sits retired in the corner of the living room, untouched for the past week. Eliza will take it back to the hospital when Isaac has his next checkup.

And so, after sticking to a routine and getting much-needed rest, Arthur has now made a full recovery, thrilling the doctors and nurses who witnessed his ordeal at the hospital. Defying the odds, Arthur Morgan is alive and is doing well. Once he gets clearance from HR, he will be going back to work before too long. Perhaps, within the next week or so.

The warm afternoon sun bathes the backyard, casting a golden glow over the small gathering at the Matthews’ residence. Laughter and chatter float through the air as the group sits down for a meal out on the back deck, their first get-together in a long while.

Eliza isn’t sure how she feels about it, as she knows that means things will be returning back to the way they were. She still hasn't found a job, yet. It isn't for a lack of trying, but she has also been busy helping Arthur and treating their son. She only has had two interviews. They were both for well-paying positions at restaurants, but she later discovered that the owners also knew Mr. Bronte. Enough said.

Arthur suggested she try a different avenue, and not willing to shut down an idea, she has now been applying at schools, the courthouse, and daycares. Hopefully, she will get a bite.

“Pass me the salad, won’t you, hon?” Bessie asks Eliza, interrupting her thoughts.

Eliza blinks, picking up the salad bowl in front of her. “Oh. Sure. Sorry.”

John is finally back from tour, and everyone has been enjoying his stories of funny encounters and his experiences.

“A fan tried to climb up on stage before a guard got to ‘em,” John recalls while laughing. “They had Javier’s face on their t-shirt. Thinkin’ they’re his number one fan.”

“And what, you don’t have fans?” Arthur jests. “Maybe you look too nice with that baby face of yours.” He chuckles to himself as he brings his glass of iced tea to his lips. “Could look pretty pathetic on a t-shirt.”

John points to his whiskers and one wrinkle on his brow. “Baby face?”

Arthur sets his glass down. “You’re twenty-seven. You ain’t seen things that I’ve seen.”

John scowls, but the twinkle in his eyes belies his irritation. “That still doesn’t make me a baby.”

“What’s your favorite part of being in a band?” Eliza asks, changing the course of the conversation, while simultaneously re-entering it. At her words, Arthur’s gaze turns to her and she feels a coldness flood her body, and her stomach flutters. With her own feelings scaring her, she quickly looks back at John.

John turns to her and grins, happy to answer her question. “The thrill of the fans. Never thought that we’d get this sort of attention.”

"Oh I'm sure the girls were throwing themselves at you," Abigail teases, but everyone knows she isn't joking.

"I didn't notice at all, darlin,'" John answers, leaning to his right and kissing her on the cheek. “You know you’re the only girl for me. Doesn’t that ring of yours prove that?”

She can’t argue with that. Being married for the past six years, while having their moments, have been more good than bad. John can be a pain in the neck sometimes, but at the end of the day, she’d choose him. Every time. She lifts her hands from her slightly round belly and slaps him playfully on the shoulder. "Oh, you," she stammers.

Hosea leans forward, raising his glass of root beer in hand. "Good answer, John." John meets him halfway and they clink glasses.

“Oh!” Jack gasps, picking up his cup and turning to Isaac. “Clink my glass, Isaac!”

The room is soon filled with laughter, as everyone else joins in on the cheering of glasses. Amongst the laughter and relative joy that soaks the air, in the pauses and moments where his attention isn’t on the group, there is a pressing feeling in Arthur’s chest. A warmth, a little fire that seems to grow larger and larger.

It started that afternoon, in the kitchen, when Eliza wordlessly wrapped her arms around him. It was as though wind blew against coals and embers threatening to die out. It was as though wind blew against coals and embers threatening to die out, causing them to come to life again.

He watches the spectacle of smiles and sparkling eyes of his family, finally falling on the face of the person who has occupied his thoughts the most.

And she looks. It is soft and subtle, but the amber brown in her eyes looks almost golden, like the flickering flame in his chest burning stronger and stronger.

And unlike the forest fires he’s battled, he dare not put it out.

***

As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden hue over the gathering, everyone continues to enjoy the socialization inside the house. As everyone relaxes in the family room, Abigail stands by John's side, her hand resting gently on her growing belly, a testament to the new life about to enter their world.

Eliza knows that the time is getting late and folks will be winding down soon and departing, so she decides that this is the moment to approach Abigail, with a medium-sized gift bag in her hand.

“Abigail,” Eliza begins after waiting for a moment to politely cut into her conversation with Bessie. “I meant to wait until your baby shower, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Abigail smiles, taking the gift bag. “Thank you, Eliza. I will never turn down a gift.”

Eliza tucks her chin. “You haven’t seen it, yet.”

“Don’t be crazy,” Abigail chuckles. “I like everything you’ve given me.” She takes a moment to remove the bright pastel-colored tissue paper and reaches a hand inside. In her hand, she brings out a beautifully crocheted baby slipper. “Oh…!” she gasps and those around her pause their conversations. “This is beautiful…!” The intricate stitches bear witness to Eliza's talent and the love that she had poured into each loop.

"I made the booties and blanket for your little one," Eliza murmurs, her voice filled with affection and warmth. "I hope it brings them comfort and happiness."

Tears well in Abigail's eyes as she admires the gift, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you, Eliza. It's all absolutely beautiful. You always have a way of making everything more special." She gently tucks the blanket back in the bag and opens her arms. “Thank you.”

They embrace and those in the room are touched by the moment.

Seeing the joy all around him, Arthur can feel the weight on his chest lifting, replaced by a sense of contentment. The new treatment for Isaac has been working wonders, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, he and Eliza can relax, if only for a fleeting moment.

He’s always preferred to be in the background, always content to just lean back and observe. He’s never liked a lot of eyes on him, and has found that one can learn a lot more from people by observation than conversation.

But he isn’t the only one who has come to that conclusion. Hosea, while being a quick-tongued extrovert, his keen eyes for observation have granted him access to information that both Eliza and Arthur have kept hidden.

Throughout the evening, the conversation has ebbed and flowed as the adults sip their drinks and share stories. Isaac happily plays with Jack and Copper, his radiant smile a testament to his resilience. Yet, amidst the laughter and celebration, there is an undeniable tension between Arthur and Eliza.

Their eyes met from across the backyard, locked in a silent dance of longing and uncertainty. Every stolen glance was like a blinking billboard in Hosea’s examination. They have been skirting around their feelings for far too long, afraid to acknowledge the deep connection they share. But now, with Isaac's slow recovery as a bittersweet reminder of life's fragile beauty, the time for hesitation is running out.

Hosea watches his son lean against the wall, watching the gathering move about without him. Arthur can't tear his gaze away from Eliza. Her eyes sparkle with newfound vivacity, and her gentle touch as she has tended to Isaac throughout the evening ignites a fire deep within him. He yearns to speak the words he has suppressed for so long, to share his fears, hopes, and little victories alongside her. Yet, the very thought of baring his soul to her makes his heart race and his palms sweat.

Bessie finds her way over to her husband while he stands in the doorway with a glass in his hand. A gentle touch of her hand on his arm, he turns to look at her. “You see it, too?” she asks softly.

He only answers with a look and she grins.

She grabs his arm with both hands, leaning in close. “I can’t take it anymore. They’ve been like tortured souls all evening.”

“I know.” He pats her hands. “Let’s go talk to him.”

They move across the room, passing by their playful grandson, and approach Arthur. Their son’s eyes finally leave his interest to see them walking towards him. He grins. “Hey, Mama. Hey, Dad.”

Hosea clears his throat and gestures towards the kitchen with a tilt of his head. “Got something I need your help with.”

Arthur steps away from the wall. “Shoah, what is it?”

Hosea motions for him to follow. “Come on.” And he leads his wife with him towards the kitchen. Arthur follows behind, catching Eliza’s eye as he leaves.

Once the three of them enter the kitchen, Hosea and Bessie walk towards the furthest corner, near the hickory cabinets. Arthur notices their nonchalance, not in any hurry to do anything, as they just stand in place. “What’s goin’ on? Don’t you need some help with somethin’?”

“Oh, we do, son,” Hosea grins. “Help relieve us of your misery.”

Arthur pinches his brow, snorting. “My misery?”

“Yes,” Bessie answers. “It’s quite painful to watch you two.”

“Painful?” Arthur repeats.

“Is there an echo in here, Arthur?” Hosea laughs.

Arthur shakes his head, crossing his arms. “I just ain’t shoah what you’re goin’ on about.”

But Hosea isn’t convinced. He nods his head, eyeing his son carefully. “I think you do.”

And Eliza’s laugh carries from the family room into the kitchen. At Arthur’s macro reaction, Hosea and Bessie give each other a knowing look.

"Why don't you two take some time for yourselves?" Hosea suggests with a sly smile, stepping forward and resting a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. "Bessie and I would be more than happy to keep young Isaac entertained at our place."

Arthur meets Hosea’s eyes, studying him for a moment. It doesn’t take a genius to know what he means. Arthur blushes and tucks his chin, his rugged facade momentarily softened by vulnerability. "Dad..." he chuckles bashfully.

Bessie smiles, her eyes sparkling with maternal warmth. "Just say yes, honey. Sometimes, all it takes is a little push to set things right." She leans into her husband lovingly. “Take it from a couple of old lovebirds like us.”

Arthur wants to, oh, he wants to, but this isn’t the same thing as taking a bullet for a comrade, or taking down a poacher. This is personal, something that requires vulnerability. He has been letting his walls come down. Bit by bit, but a clear confession opens all of it, crumbles the walls into rubble and ash.

Is he ready for it?

As though knowing the questions reeling in his mind, Hosea gives Arthur’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Stop torturing yourself, Arthur, and enjoy your life for once.” And he shoves him toward the family room.

“I’ll have to talk to Isaac first.”

“If you must,” Hosea sighs humorously. “Though I have a feeling it won’t take much to convince that boy to stay with us.”

Arthur grins sheepishly, turning towards the entryway leading out to the family room. The chatter grows louder and his heartbeat seems to heavily match its volume.

Talking to Isaac will be easy. But Eliza? What will he say? How can he make it sound nonchalant without it being awkward? Start off with, “Hey, Eliza, wanna be alone at my place?” Wiggle his brow like a cocky college boy?

No. Not like that. But he’s never been great with words, anyway.

Well, here goes nothing.

Returning to the living room, he spots his son still playing with Jack on the floor, a new board game laid out before them. Candy Land, by the looks of it.

“I wish the candy in the board was real,” Jack sighs as he moves his red gingerbread pawn. “Especially the frosting.”

Isaac shrugs his shoulders. “It wouldn’t matter. I can’t really have any candy, anyway.”

Jack’s eyes widen, never being privy to this information. “At all?”

Isaac shakes his head. “Nope. But it’s okay, Mom makes me yummy treats that taste about the same.”

Arthur smiles. Isaac is such a good kid, hardly ever one to complain. Feeling it appropriate now to interrupt, he squats down beside his son. “Hey, partner.”

Isaac smiles as his eyes remain on the board. “Hey, Daddy.”

“I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Isaac grins. “So do I.”

“What?”

Isaac’s eyes brighten and he grins from ear to ear. “You wanna play Candy Land with us? We just started and you can go next!”

Arthur chuckles and messes with Isaac’s hair. “You know board games ain’t my kind of thing, kiddo. I like cards.”

Jack grabs a handful of the cards from the board, holding them up. “It’s got cards, Uncle Arthur!”

Isaac giggles and lifts his head to look up, but his eyes don’t meet Arthur’s. “Oh, hi Mom.”

Arthur feels himself grow tense and he quickly makes the motion to rise to a standing position, clearing his throat.

He’s now face to face with Eliza, the closest they’ve been in proximity to each other all evening.

“Arthur,” she says softly, her brown doe-like eyes blinking once. “I think we should go. I’m rather tired, and Isaac isn’t used to being up past nine.”

Isaac frowns as he regards his parents. “Oh, Mom. Do we have to go?”

This is it. This is the perfect opportunity without adding more risk.

Arthur clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

Eliza blinks, her brow pinched. “What?”

Arthur turns to her, trying his best to be as casual as possible. “Why don’t he stay here for the night? Dad and Mom won’t mind.”

And cutting in, Bessie calls out as she and Hosea step into the living room. “We sure wouldn’t!”

Isaac's face lights up at the idea, his earlier disappointment vanishing like mist in morning sunlight. "Really? Can I, Mom?" His voice is a mix of hope and excitement, tugging at Arthur's heartstrings.

Eliza looks between Isaac and Arthur, her lips pursed as she weighs her options. It's clear she's conflicted, her protective instinct battling with her desire to give Isaac this small joy. She sighs, a soft, almost inaudible sound that carries a world of weariness. "Alright," she finally concedes, her voice barely above a whisper. "But call me if he needs anything, or—”

Hosea nods his head. “We will, Eliza. Don’t worry. This isn’t our first rodeo.”

She knows he’s right. Over the past couple of months, they’ve helped immensely with Isaac. It’s just that she gets like this when she senses something is going on. It’s vibrant, chilling, but hot all at the same time.

She isn’t sure what it is, but somehow she knows it isn’t dangerous.

Eliza sighs. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“The mama bear instinct never really dies, does it, El?” Abigail asks as she eases into a couch, hand over her belly.

Eliza chuckles. “Nope, it sure doesn’t.”

“It’s settled then. You two go on home, get some sleep, and come by for breakfast in the morning.” Hosea makes his way over to the floor where Jack and Isaac still kneel on the floor, and goes to his knees with a soft grunt. “I’m going to play a good game of Candy Cane Lane.”

Isaac chuckles. “It’s Candy Land, Grampie!”

Hosea feigns astonishment, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Oh, that’s right! How could I forget?” He ruffles Isaac’s hair, sharing a grin with the young boy. “You’re the expert, after all.” Isaac offers him a game piece and they ready themselves to resume the game, not before Hosea glances back up at Eliza and Arthur again. “Drive careful!”

Well, that’s that, then. Arthur looks at Eliza, swallowing thickly, before gesturing toward the door. “I guess we’re goin’?”

She shrugs, smiling softly. “It’s an eviction if I ever did see one.”

Her joke makes him smile and he makes his way to the door. As he reaches the doorknob, he turns to look over at John and Abigail. “See ya, John.”

John waves, not ready to leave his wife’s side just yet. “Be seein’ ya, brother.”

Arthur opens the door and gestures for Eliza to go first. “After you.”

She goes to tuck her hair behind her ear in an effort to hide the blush from her cheek as she quickly slips by him and steps out onto the porch. Hearing the door close behind her, it adds a strange finality to the situation.

The night air is brisk, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the house they just left. Eliza wraps her arms around herself, rubbing them for warmth as they descend the wooden steps. Arthur follows close behind, his presence a reassuring solidity in the cool darkness.

As they walk side by side down the gravel driveway, Arthur’s ‘91 GMC Sierra comes into view. He’s had that old truck for years and he still takes pride in that thing. Eliza remembers the rides they took in it when they were first together. Arthur was quite the charmer back then, always finding an excuse to drive her somewhere, anywhere, just so they could spend a bit more time together. It feels like a lifetime ago now, especially with everything that's going on.

He unlocks the door and holds it open for her, who climbs in with a quiet thanks. The world outside is silent for a moment in the shell of the cab and she watches Arthur as he walks around the front of the truck and reaches the driver’s side.

He climbs in, closes the door with a gentle click, and wordlessly starts the engine.

After waiting a minute or two to let the engine warm up, he puts it in reverse, backs up, makes a three-point turn to navigate around John’s car, and drives down the driveway and eventually onto the main road.

Inside the truck, the world seems to slow down, each moment stretching infinitely, capturing the wild heartbeat of anticipation. No words pass between them, but their eyes met briefly in a passionate glance. The weight of their unspoken emotions hangs heavy in the air, crackling with electricity. Arthur's hands tremble slightly on the steering wheel, while Eliza's ears flush an enchanting shade of crimson.

She turns to glance out the window, trying to focus her thoughts on the twinkling sky full of stars and wonders. But no matter how beautiful or awe-inspiring they appear, her thoughts keep wandering back to him. She felt like every time he glanced her way, she couldn’t breathe. What is wrong with her? Things have been going so well. Why ruin it now, when things have never been better?

Arthur breaks the silence first, his voice low and gravelly with emotion. "You cold?" he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

Eliza shakes her head, though the shiver that runs through her is less about the cold and more about the storm of feelings swirling inside her. "I'm okay," she answers, still resisting the urge to look at him.

“You shoah?” he presses, his voice still hinting at the gravel tones that have altered his vocal cords. “I know that you don’t like the cold.”

She finally turns to look at him and as their eyes meet, even in the darkness of the cab, she feels that jolt that nearly renders her breathless again. “I’m fine,” she manages to say. “Really.”

The soft, blue glow from the truck’s stereo fights against the shadows cast on his face, and she can see him smile. “Alright.”

Unbeknownst to either of them, their hearts beat in synchrony, yearning for the moment when their souls will intertwine and finally surrender to the depth of their affection.

***

As they sit on the front porch of his house, a gentle breeze rustles through the leaves of the surrounding trees, carrying the faint scent of pine. The sounds of crickets and owls meld into a tranquil symphony, setting a peaceful backdrop. They're both silent, each lost in their own thoughts, the earlier tension now replaced by a comfortable quietude. The porch light casts a warm glow on the wooden steps where they sit, side by side yet not quite touching. Eliza sips her tea quietly as she stares into the sky like an astrophile. It’s the only thing that she can manage to do, lest she say or do something dumb.

Neither of them are too nervous to go inside. With Isaac around, it has been easy to keep themselves in check, their conversations light and focusing only on immediate things. But still, they’ve grown comfortable with each other, only now, there won’t be a reason to live this way much longer.

Arthur can’t help but steal glances at Eliza, who radiates beauty and grace in the evening light. Her eyes sparkle with a mixture of tenderness and affection, mirroring the love that has bloomed within his own heart.

Really, they have been through so much together, navigating the treacherous depths of dark secrets and danger. But amidst the chaos, a flickering flame of love has ignited between them, growing into an unbreakable bond.

And now, seeing her, like this, couldn’t be a more perfect time. He swallows thickly and licks his lips, preparing to say something, anything, to get a conversation going in the direction it needs to.

But Eliza speaks first, turning her head to meet his eyes. "It's getting late.” And her words, so casual but still so surprising, break the silence. "I think I ought to turn in, I go back to my place tomorrow."

"Oh, okay,"

Arthur's voice is laced with a hint of hesitation as he replies, his eyes following her every move. She slowly stands from the step, her lithe figure moving gracefully as she enters the house. The screen door creaks open and then gently closes behind her, allowing the sounds of nature to once again fill the air. He turns back ahead, eyeing the tight grip in his clasped hands. "Tell her, you fool," Arthur says under his breath. "Tell her you love her."

He can’t bring himself to move just yet, but the urge is strong.

The evening air caresses his skin with a chill, urging him to make a decision before it's too late. With each passing moment, the weight of his unspoken words grows heavier. He pushes himself off the steps with a determined grunt and heads towards the door that Eliza had disappeared through moments ago.

As he reaches for the door, he notices how dark it is inside. She’s not in the living room or the kitchen. She’s really gone to bed.

He enters the house, letting the door close softly behind him.

As Eliza settles into the guest bedroom, Arthur can't help but feel a longing tug at his heart. He knows what he needs to do, and he can't let it go on like this anymore. He has recovered and he knows that she is going to leave and he may never have this chance again.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. His breath is shaky, his heart pounding in his chest. He wants to move, but his legs feel as heavy as lead. After a few more moments that feel like hours, he brings his right foot on the front step and begins climbing, one foot at a time.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he looks down the hall and sees a little light coming from the guest room, the door cracked open just a hair.

The upstairs hallway seems endlessly long tonight, each step reverberating like a silent drum in his ears. He pauses at her door, his hand hovering over the knob. He can hear the soft, even breaths of Eliza sleeping inside, and it calms him just as much as his legs feel as heavy as lead. The upstairs hallway seems endlessly long tonight, each step reverberating like a silent drum in his ears. He pauses at her door, his hand hovering over the knob.

Letting out a slow breath, he silently enters the room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the weathered wooden floor. His eyes go to the bed, but she isn’t there.

He finds her standing by the window, her eyes fixed on the moon-kissed landscape. She looks beautiful, almost iridescent with the moonlight touching her bare skin. Her silk pajamas fall perfectly on her body, her chestnut curls resting softly against her shoulders and down her back, putting Venus de Milo to shame.

"Eliza," he calls softly, so as not to startle her. Slowly, she turns to him, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

He opens his mouth to speak, but the words become lodged in his throat, choking him. In front of him stands a woman who has left him utterly speechless, her beauty and grace rendering him dumbstruck. He feels like a bumbling fool, incapable of forming coherent thoughts or words in her presence. The weight of his desire and admiration for her hangs heavy in the air, suffocating any attempt at speech.

But she knows just what to say.

"Stay with me," she whispers, her voice barely audible amidst the stillness. It is a plea, an unspoken invitation to bridge the gap between them, louder than any command that could ever be spoken.

And miraculously, his tongue finds the ability to speak one word.

"Absolutely," he sighs and goes to her.

He feels his heart race as he takes her in his arms. His gaze meets hers, and in that moment, the world around seems to fade into insignificance. Eliza places her hands on each side of his face and slowly her fingers travel gently down his neck. As she stops at his chest, she can feel his defined pectoral muscles underneath his shirt, and the pounding of his heart.

Without uttering a single word, they understand each other's unspoken desires, and the weight of their unacknowledged love lay heavy in the air. Tenderly, but hungrily, his lips meet hers, igniting a spark that had been smoldering for far too long. Her lips are so soft, better than he remembers, and he lets out a deep sigh.

Her response is immediate and equally fervent, her arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. They stumble back against the cool glass of the window, the night air doing nothing to quell the heat that builds between them. It's a kiss born of years of withheld words and stifled feelings, a cascade of everything felt and unspoken crashing down like a wave.

As they part, he finally finds the words that he’s needed to say.

"I love you," Arthur rumbles, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and tenderness. He pulls back enough to meet her eyes as they hold a vulnerability that mirrors Eliza's own.

She comes out of her haze long enough to let a soft smile stretch across her face, her eyes watering. Her heart sighs and pounds at the same time, as his hands gently touch the skin of her back under her blouse.

"I love you. I have always loved you," she murmurs, her voice brimming with uncontainable emotion. And not letting the moment ebb away, he quickly kisses her again. At that moment, it is as if the weight of the world has been lifted from their wary souls, and all that matters is the unbreakable bond between them.

His hands travel up her back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He wants to study her, to refresh his memory, without the need to be rushed despite the hunger and desire.

“Arthur,” she sighs, and it is all he has within him to resist not ripping her clothes off her body.

Instead, his hands move to scoop her up into his arms, and he carries her to the bed, the bedcovers already pulled back.

He lays her down gently, and she grips his strong forearms, feeling their sturdiness. Her brow pinches as her chest rises and falls, her breasts peaking through her silk top. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“No,” he answers, his voice a low drawl that seems to make her worries fall away. The softness in his marine-colored eyes holds promises no words could ever capture. He bends down, brushing a kiss on her forehead, one that speaks of protection and permanence. She tilts her head up, meeting him in the middle and they kiss again. Softly and tenderly, her mouth relents to his tongue and teeth, each caress deepening the ache of long years apart. His hand finds hers, fingers intertwining as if binding their souls together with the simplest of gestures.

The glow of the lamp almost feels like an intrusion, and rising slightly, Arthur reaches over to turn it off. Eliza brings her hand up to his abdomen, slipping her hand underneath the gape of his shirt. She’s missed the feel of him, the warmth of his skin against hers, and as he looks back at her, he can see her blown pupils and plump lips.

The room dims to a soft shadow, emphasizing the contours of their bodies as they draw near one other in the quiet darkness. Arthur's breath hitches slightly as he feels Eliza's fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, a map she knows all too well despite the years that have intervened.

His lips part from hers as he leans away from her. He takes the hem of his shirt and pulls it off of his body and she watches him with adoring eyes.

Arthur’s chest, now bare, reflects the faint moonlight filtering through the window. His skin is a canvas of silver and shadows, muscles undulating with each breath. Eliza reaches up again, her hand tracing the landscape of his scars and sinews. He catches her wrist gently, lowering her arm back down. They both have their own scars to bear, but that isn’t why they are here.

Carefully, gently, Arthur brings his hands back to her, taking the bottom of her silk top in his fingers. She sits up and together, they remove her of it, its fabric slipping off her body like water.

He takes a moment to look at her. Her skin. Oh, there are so many words to describe her. Soft, inviting, warm, velvet, satin. The milk-white of her skin, the shape of her breasts. The dip in her collarbone. All things he’s loved. All things that act as merely a shell of what she is deep inside. If a star could ever be embodied, if devotion could ever have a face, it would be hers.

She sees the way he looks at her. Not of sheer lust, but of adoration. Love. That’s what this is. As his eyes meet hers again, she pulls him back, reminding him of the task at hand.

They work together, as though in a dance, to remove the remaining confines of their clothes, letting nothing but the sounds of their breath and heartbeats reverberate in the room.

As they embrace, their bodies press against each other with a need that words could never capture. Every touch ignites a fiery longing within them, drawing them closer as they lose themselves in the moment. Time seems to slow down as they explore the depths of their shared desire, their movements fluid and synchronized like a beautifully choreographed dance. Each touch and caress is like a note in a symphony of surrender, building towards an ultimate crescendo of pleasure and release.

***

The silvery moonbeams cascade down upon them, enveloping them in a soft glow as their bodies lay intertwined, tangled in a passionate embrace. With each breath, the barriers that had once held their hearts captive crumble into a million pieces, freeing them from the burdens of the past.

Their skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, flushed and alive with desire. In this quiet sanctuary of their own making, they have finally found each other. Eliza, with her head resting peacefully on Arthur's chest, feels safe and content in the arms of the one she has always loved. And for Arthur, holding her close is like holding onto a precious treasure that he never knew he had until now. With the moon as their witness, they are two souls entwined in perfect harmony.

He listens to her as she sleeps, her body finally at rest. It’s the most content he has ever seen her, and a quiet sense of fulfillment settles in his heart.

He knows that good moments don’t last forever, he’s learned that the hard way, but he will relish in it now. He will soak it in, drench himself in the wave of emotions, and relive it in his dreams over and over again.

As the hours travel on, the pale light of a new dawn teases out shadows from the corners of the room. Arthur watches them dance upon the walls, his mind a tumult of thoughts and emotions. Despite the serenity painted across Eliza's face, he knows that outside their sanctuary, reality waits for them.

What could it possibly be?

At least for now, he can leave it all outside, and hold his everything close to his heart.

Thank you so much for reading! Any feedback is always appreciated. :)

Tag Requests:

@photo1030 @cassietrn

8 notes · View notes