Page 60 of Yours to Keep
Then Deck growls, “Enough.”
The entire office goes silent. Finn turns bright red.
Deck carries him out through the back exit like a sack of problems, with Finn still protesting the entire way. I just stand there, unsure whether I should intervene or applaud whatever the hell that was.
And that’s when laughter pulls my attention across the room.
Eli.
His head is tipped back, eyes bright, laughing properly, unrestrained, unmeasured, real. Not the careful smile he offers most days. Not the polite laugh that says he’s managing himself.
The sound hits me square in the chest. Warm. Alive. I want to hear it forever.
* * *
The week moves on, and after what Finn officially dubs “Ass-gate,” something shifts between him and Deck.
Deck starts touching him more without thinking about it. It’s subtle, but it’s there: a settling, a shift. Something that looks suspiciously like trust. Finn doesn’t flinch from it anymore; he just settles into it. He’s quieter, like he’s stopped bracing for impact, as if he’s finally decided Deck isn’t going anywhere.
And Eli becomes the best part of my day without even trying. The conversations between us stay simple, normal talks that Eli happily contributes to.
The realization lands heavier than I expect. My chest tightens, but I don’t fight it.
He starts letting pieces of his past surface. Ree and Marge, spoken with a warmth that sits deep in his voice. His time as an ER nurse. The awful hospital coffee. Books he used to love. His bike.
And then, he tells me his full name.
Jonah Elijah Wolfe.
Every day, he gives me another piece of himself. Each piece feels like a privilege, a responsibility, something I never want to mishandle.
It happens during one of our coffee runs. Eli is talking about his bike again, not like something lost, but like an old friend he still knows how to miss properly.
“She was a pain in the ass sometimes,” he says, stirring his coffee.
I glance at him. “Your bike?”
He smiles. “Yeah. The battery would die if I didn’t ride her enough. Clutch was temperamental. Hated cold mornings.”
His smile softens something deep inside me. I want to keep that softness safe.
A laugh slips out of me. “Sounds like her owner.”
Eli just smiles into his cup.
“You realize you’re talking about her like she was alive, right?”
He shrugs lightly. “She kind of was.”
That makes me pause, not because it’s strange, but because I understand it. It isn’t really about the bike. It’s freedom.
“What happened to her?”
His smile fades a fraction. “I sold her. I needed the money.”
Quiet. Final.
“You loved that bike,” I say softly.
