Here for the Vibes

The spring of sophomore year was far less hectic for Annie and Smoke than the fall had been. Classes were handing out a lighter load, so the pair could indulge in Jackson State’s campus life—and each other—with no real remorse. The time they once spent tucked underneath each other in Smoke’s bedsheets was now being shared with other things.

The pair often found themselves holding hands while walking through the plaza or cuddled up at basketball games, but their newest adventure had been the most fulfilling.

About twenty minutes away from the city, Smoke found a nice open field with tall grass, cooling shade, and beautiful flowers. It was very different from what they’d grown accustomed to in their first few semesters of college, but getting away from the hustle of college life was always appreciated.

So after finding the little field, he brought Annie there, and she fell in love with it.

Despite them spending a lot of time together, they hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk about things. When they hung out in their new spot, they’d end up finding a tree to post up against it, tonguing each other down like it was the most natural thing in the world. But when they’d returned to life on campus, they wouldn’t speak any further about it.

The same would happen when their study sessions turned into Annie sleeping in Smoke’s bed. They’d lay together, breathing deeply in each other’s face, cushioning each other’s dreams. But then Annie would wake, shutting the man down every time he tried to talk about their friendship and his feelings for her.

Smoke would be lying if he said he wasn’t annoyed by the way Annie had been acting. It was like ever since that first moment in his bed—when their bodies found each other under the cover, clothed and needy—she wanted to block that part of her memory out.

They hadn’t been close like that ever since.

They still cuddled.

Still slept together.

And they kissed like crazy which was very new.

But besides that, Annie was treating them completely as friends, failing to acknowledge the fact that their relationship was forever changed. Smoke was fine with it though. He was willing to go along to get along because deep in his heart, he had love for Annie. If she wanted things a certain way, he’d oblige. But things had gotten ridiculous when she began flirting with people in front of his face, entertaining the idea of being taken on dates by women or men who were complete strangers compared to what he was to her.

He knew her. Had known her deeply. Carnally.

Every time she pulled him close for a kiss but pushed him away afterwards, Smoke felt his heart breaking. Every time she batted her lashes at someone else, he felt like shrinking inside himself.

Annie had been dealing with her own inner turmoil. She adore Smoke—damn near had love for him, and that was the problem. She couldn’t allow herself to explore him in that way. Wouldn’t allow it. So she dated other people in between sleeping in Smoke’s bed and kissing him between classes.

When she’d leave his apartment, Stack laughing at her as she departed dazed—and horny—she’d call up someone to ease her need.

She’d been rotating through a few people: some random guy who walked up to her in the plaza and asked for her number (he was on the basketball team and his contact popping up on Annie’s phone always upset Smoke); a stud who was pushing up on Annie all of fall semester (she was in her chemistry class and knew how to fuck Annie long enough that she could almost pretend that Smoke wasn’t on her mind); and a fem that flirted with Annie like it was some type of game when they’d pass each other in the dorms (she’d tongue Annie down real good, but she only ever wanted her Elijah).

She went from not fooling around with anyone because of her complicated friendship to fooling around with multiple people just to keep her mind off of Smoke.

And despite her efforts, nothing was working.

She still wanted him.

Still needed him.

And she wasn’t aware that he was about to make her cave.

To combat the problem he was facing, Smoke planned to bring Annie out to their spot—that little field—and have a nice picnic before speaking through his feelings. He loved being friends with her and always would be, no matter if she wanted to deny the love that bubbled under the surface, no matter if she wanted to kiss on him everyday without explaining herself.

Holding the passenger side door open and holding his hand out to her, Smoke guided the woman through the thicket of tall grass. With the picnic basket and blanket in one hand and hers in the other, his heart beat wildly in his chest, and Annie could feel it.

She was trying to pay attention to their surroundings. How the nature seemed to envelop them. How the wind was blowing in their direction, bending the seeded grass toward them. How in a nearby tree birds chirped songfully.

But she could feel his heart and hear his breath, and his nerves made hers spike.

“I'm so ready for spring break,” Annie admitted, leaning back on her hands and looking up at the sky. The blanket was soft underwear of fingertips, grounding her as she took deep breaths.

“What you got planned,” Smoke grumbled, mind too far away to really be focused on the conversation. He knew Annie was avoiding the inevitable. They’d eaten in silence, and after they finished and Smoke cleared his throat to speak, she intercepted him with random thoughts.

“Me and my girls gon' head down to my hometown for a few days. I got a friend at Dillard so we finna turn Bourbon Street up,” she laughed, thinking about the upcoming trip to quiet the beating of her heart. Her hand kept inching closer to Smoke's. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, her body churned at him.

“I hope you can save some of your week for me,” he breathed into the quiet air, allowing the tall grass to cushion the roughness in his voice.

“You know I always got time for you, Elijah,” she crooned, finally meeting their fingers. She brushed her hand over his knuckles, feeling the way he shivered beneath her.

“Annie,” Smoke's voice cracked, edged with desire and heartache. He needed her, and he knew she felt the same. As their eyes met, there were no words that could be said. Nothing that could soothe him that she was actually ready to admit.

Annie climbed into the man’s lap, body trying to fill the gaps her words couldn’t. She was wearing a flowy sundress, and as she straddled him, it rose up on her thighs, shielding the place where their bodies connected. Things still felt forbidden. Like the lines between friends and something more wasn’t supposed to be blurring the way it was. The thought of it—and the feeling of their bodies too close—made Annie fold herself in on him. Her face settled into the crook of Smoke’s neck, breathing her friend in as her hips rolled experimentally. The moment caused him to let out a rough gasp.

“If you gon' go back to pretendin’ we ain't shiftin’ into something more than friends,” Smoke began, hands halting her hips even though he wanted it as bad as she did, “then you may as well stop now.” His voice was shaking with need and excitement. His fingers were twitching against her clothes hips.

Annie huffed against him, upset that she wanted him. Upset that he wanted her. Upset that she would have to talk about her feelings at some point. The man's hands loosened their grip, giving her room to decide what she wanted. As she pulled back from his neck, looking him directly into his dark brown eyes, Annie let out a sighing breath before rolling her pelvis forward to test the strength of their desire.

“Fuck,” they groaned simultaneously, heads threatening to tip back but desperately needing to keep their eyes locked on each other. Their breaths mingled as their surroundings seemed to swarm. The coolness of early spring felt comforting on their warm skin.

“Elijah,” Annie moaned. She held his head, fingers supporting the weight as he caved under her. They could both feel each other throbbing as Annie's grinding turned more desperate. Whimpers spilled between them. “I'm scared,” she admitted, tears on the verge of spilling. She watched the way the man's eyes went from cloudy to soft as he locked back in to what she was saying. His brows tightened, and he sat up straighter with both hands on her back as he grounded her even in the swirling arousal of the movement.

“What you scared of, baby,” he questioned, breathing hard through his worry as her hips only moved with more fervor. The bane slipped off his tongue too easily, causing Annie’s heart to flutter.

“Of things changing,” she cried, moaning too loudly for either of them to only be able to focus on one thing. “I love the way we feel pressed together like this.” She grinded down harder, pulling delicious whines from the man. One of his hands was forced to tangle in the blanket beneath them, trying not to spill in his pants while she was confessing what he'd been spending weeks trying to discover. “I be so fuckin' wet for you, ‘Lijah,” she slurred. “I want you, but I'm scared to ruin our friendship over how you make my body feel.”

The words caused Smoke to choke on a sob.

“I want you too, Anne,” he groaned. He thrusted his hips forward just as she grinded down.

“God,” she moaned, laying her forehead on his shoulder. Beneath her dress, the fabric of her panties clung to her pussy, darkening the color of his pants.

“I've always wanted you,” he soothed her worry, rubbing the length of her back before planting a hand on her ass. “You ain't gotta worry 'bout shit with me, mama. Shit ain't gon' change 'cause it's always been like this. Me and you.”

“Yes,” Annie nodded against him, feeling his body twitch beneath her. She felt like she couldn't breathe in the best way, and when he started kissing her neck and collarbone while kneading her ass, she just about combusted. “I'm about to cum, baby,” she moaned as he whispered praises against her skin.

“Cum for me,” he guided. He hardened his body, not allowing himself to fully indulge because he wanted this to be about her and what she needed from him.

When she came, Annie clung to Smoke’s body, face buried in the crook of his neck, arms around his shoulders, thighs shivering around his. Smoke clenched his jaw at the way her hips stuttered, still grinding slowly as she drank up every ounce of her arousal.

They each took heaving breaths, chests pressed tightly against each other as the moment faded and the heaviness of what they’d done came rushing through them.

Annie pulled away from Smoke to look her friend in the eyes. Her body swelled at the sight of him. He looked fucked out, dazed, needy, in love, and tired all at the same time. Like he needed her in his bones but wouldn’t ask for more than she was willing to give.

“You didn't—” she started before getting flustered. Heat rose to her cheeks as she flushed at the words about to leave her. “You didn't cum,” she whispered quietly, turning her eyes downward in embarrassment, but Smoke wasn't having any of that.

Letting out a small chuckle and shaking his head incredulously, he lifted her chin with two fingers, forcing Annie's eyes on him.

“Next time,” he assured, enjoying the way her spine shivered at the confidence in his tone.

“Elijah,” she chuckled, covering both of her eyes with her hands and tilting her head into his chest. “You a whole mess,” Annie spluttered, giggling to push away the truth.

There was gonna be a next time. No matter how hard she denied her feelings and used other people to rid her mind of Smoke. They cared too deeply for each other, and little moments like this always reminded them that there was no faking what they were.

Smoke sat there, body barricaded beneath Annie’s body and loving every minute of it. He breathed her in. He kissed the crown of her head. He wrapped both arms around her, knowing that when they got back to the real world, Annie was going to pretend this didn’t happen.

But as the woman allowed him to hold her, she convinced herself that he was her home. Her comfort. Her release.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: IM IN LOVE WUTH THEM

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

month seven

When Elijah left Annie’s home, he had no clue of what to do next. He had no where to lay his head for the night, and he refused to be like Stack and seek refuge in no good women—or Mary’s mother. The woman had helped raise them, and if she saw the type of man he’d become—a man that leaves his wife to reconcile his own grief—she’d be beyond disappointed. She attempted to raise him to be upstanding, but with the influence of his father and the crux of war, he’d become something she wouldn’t recognize.

It was like Elijah was moving aimlessly through the world without Annie. Departing for Chicago, they left on the best terms they could have; They were still tethered, still one. But now? Elijah wasn’t sure if Annie had just cut all ties with him or put a nasty root over his heart, but the feeling that was brewing in his stomach was worse than any grief or anger or depression he’d ever experienced.

He felt desperate and fearful of what the next day could bring. He wanted to fulfill every task he’d neglected while away. He was going to do the chores she gave him, having it in his mind to go even further. As Stack ran through a minuscule list of possible refugees for his brother, Elijah floated above it all with nothing but Annie on his mind.

Stack drove the vehicle loosely, glancing over at his twin with sad eyes. Having witnessed the scene in their home, Smoke under the heavy knife Annie wielded, Stack felt out of control. He couldn’t begin to imagine how his brother felt—standing there as she cut into him with eyes full of hatred. Elias had never seen Annie like that, not even when she stood on the other side of the door, listening to their plans for Chicago.

Annie always loved Elijah the most. She always spoke kindly even when upset. She saved her anger and resentment for others—only when they deserved it. Elijah hadn’t deserved it ‘til now.

Elias turned over ideas in his head, some geared toward assisting Smoke in saving his marriage, some towards finding a place for him to rest his head until the first task was accomplished. With that glint in her eye, it was evident that Annie was gonna need more than an apology, the tears of a hardened man, a leather-bound journal of secrets to take him back. As she should, Stack thought, pain flooding his chest while he remembered begging his brother to put his fear aside and be truthful with her—seven months ago.

“What ‘bout Bo’s,” Stack shook himself out of his thoughts, throwing the suggestion in the air like it was the answer to their problem. “He sure to let you stay!”

The older twin grunted, eyes trained on the yellowing trees and the browning tendrils of late-harvested corn.

“You seen how them women was lookin’ at me,” Smoke shook his head, looking out toward the front windshield as if he could see past everything in front of him. “Grace ain’t gon’ let me stay in they house. As foolish as I’ve been.”

“Grace ain’t nobody to crucify you. Only folk who can do that is Mama, God, and Annie.” Stack allowed the words to settle between them, racking his brain for other ways to find his stubborn brother lodging. The older twin was set on sleeping amongst the mosquitoes and waking up at the ass crack of dawn to be at Annie’s beck and call. But Stack wasn’t going to let that happen—not that way. Elijah at least needed a clean, warm place to sleep.

“We’ll go by Chow’s Grocery anyhow,” Stack nodded curtly, one hand gripping the wheel and the other thrumming nervously in his lap.

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Bo crooned with a small bit of animosity hiding behind his grin. He was happy to see his boys, happy to have them back in the Delta, but their leaving had caused a world of troubles and confusion for them all. He had spent the last four months, knowing of Annie’s pregnancy, tending to her needs just as much as her three girlfriends. He’d spent many of his nights laying beside Grace as she badmouthed the man he grew up with, calling Smoke everything but a child of God.

He knew Smoke—knew how he’d grown up under the scornful eye of his father, knew how grief and destruction seemed to follow him everywhere, knew how the man’s face was sunken by a lack of hope. The only time Bo saw Elijah though was with Annie. He would let it slip through the cracks when he’d guide her through a room with his head high and hand on her back. When he’d let his eyes drift away from a conversation just to find hers in a crowd. When he’d confided, pride dripping off of him, that Annie was pregnant with their baby girl.

Bo hadn’t seen those glimpses of Elijah since their daughter first got sick. It was like that cold wind had come through, freezing Elijah’s heart and taking her away with it. In front of him now stood a frightful and despondent version of the man he knew.

“How you doing, Bo,” Stack asked animatedly, giving the man a deep hug. Bo’s grin became more genuine as he reciprocated the younger twin’s laughter. Smoke stood back, blood still seeping into his collar, hiding his eyes away from the world.

“I’m doin’ alright,” he remedied, looking over at the other twin, “betta than Smoke I see.” His eyes trailed over the cut, stuffing down a laugh as he imagined how he’d gotten it. “Annie gave you yo’ welcome back gift, I suppose.” Bo laughed, throwing his head back in amusement as he applauded Annie in his mind.

On quick feet, Smoke charged toward Bo. His chest puffed out and his chin rose high. He was fuming at the mere mention of Annie and the thought that someone felt comfortable enough to speak on her anger.

“Keep my wife name out of yo’ mouth,” he argued, shame spreading across his face as he remembered her saying that she wasn’t his. Bo’s jaw trembled in anger, trying to tow the line between honesty and disrespect. He knew how Smoke got about Annie, even though he’d been gone for so long. “You ain’t got the right to talk about her like you know anything.”

“We all been takin’ care of Annie in yo’ absence,” Bo confessed, shaking his head in disbelief. Smoke was always protective of her, but he couldn’t be stupid enough to think Bo and everyone else wouldn’t step in with him away. Bo’s heart pounded against his chest as Smoke clenched his fists at his side.

As his oldest friend eyed him with disdain and his twin brother eyed him with pity, Elijah found his resolve crumbling again. Since he’d stepped foot back in Clarksdale, it was like the newly-made Elijah had been replaced with someone peculiar. He came home because he was ready. Because he was whole.

But now that he was in the Delta again, it seemed as though he had become a different type of spitfire. Instead of being trigger-happy, he was easily brought to tears. Instead of being closed off emotionally, his heart was always open. Too open for his liking.

And somewhere deep inside of him, Elijah couldn't really see that as a bad thing. Just a new thing to get accustomed to. Would he ever grow into himself?

Only time could tell.

“I been a coward,” Elijah spoke earnestly, swallowing the pridefulness that he’d been taught as a child. “I left my woman. And I am gon’ reconcile that. And I apologize for the stress of my leavin’, but I thank you for lookin’ after my wife in my absence.”

Bo was thrown aback by the man’s demeanor. He was passive and understanding in a way that he wasn’t in his formative years—apologetic and appreciative. Bo nodded in an awed manner. His fighting spirit faded away as he listened to Elijah’s words.

“I know this probably too much to ask,” the remorseful man stated, “but is it alright if I stay in your back storeroom? Just ‘til I get on my feet and back to my girls.” And just like that—the first time since leaving Annie’s home—he acknowledged that his wife was bearing his baby. A baby he knew was destined to be a girl.

He remembered Annie’s grandmother prophesying over them: Elijah and Annie were to birth a home filled with girls. Girls that were to be a perfect mix of him and her. Girls who’d be strong yet soft and cared for. That was all he wanted: to be strong yet soft while taking care of the greatest loves of his life.

Elijah desired to be totally different from his father. He wanted to be open and kind. He wanted to be protective and sturdy. He wanted to be surrounded by love and happiness from all sides and within.

But he messed that up.

Somewhere along the way, he forgot that one part of her prophecy that warned them of growing past grief, resentment, fear, and anger. Elijah had somehow let the good times outweigh their need to preserve the happy and loving side of their marriage. But now that he was back and with a level head, Elijah vowed to guide them through the pain—not back to when the love was once good and fresh, but to a future that was whole and wise.

Weighing his options, Bo finally agreed to let Smoke stay in his storeroom. He’d have to break the news to Grace, but at least Smoke wasn’t staying in their home.

Smoke had everything he needed: a cot to sleep on, clean towels to wash up, and supplies for completing his chores the next morning.

As Elijah tended to the parting gift Annie had left him, the three men caught up on lost time. They talked about Chicago—the good times and the bad, the peculiar types of people most Southerners don’t get to experience, how every night Elijah dreamed of coming back to his Annie. They recapped what had been going on in the Delta—how the changing of seasons ain’t shift too many things around, how business was steady like always, how Bo felt that Annie put on a brave face too much of the time.

Fingers ghosting over his cut, Elijah couldn’t help but think about Annie. His wound was red and angry and raw, but it somehow brought a solemn smile to his lips. It was a reminder of her. Of her hands. Of her gutsy nature. Of the fact that—even if she was mad—Annie still cared.

~~~~~~~~~~

Back in her home, fortified by her faith in the Earth and her ancestors, Annie awoke from a much needed nap. Her heartburn was now at bay and her mind could think clearly now that she wasn’t surrounded by so much noise. Pearline, Grace, and Mary left her to sleep, and she was thankful for the time alone.

Annie wasn’t sorry for how she’d treated Elijah. Not for cutting his ass—‘cause he deserved it. Not for saying she wasn't his woman—‘cause she wasn’t. Not for sending him away—‘cause he wasn’t finna be stayin’ with her like he belonged there. Even as his face crumbled and eyes shed pitiful tears, she wasn’t remorseful, and she regretted nothing.

Annie no longer belonged to Elijah—at least not in the way she once did. Before his betrayal, she was naive to think a man would hold strong to a relationship surrounded by so much grief. She thought Elijah was different. That he loved her enough to stick it out and fix the broken pieces like a married man and woman should. That he somehow was different from all the no good man she encountered in the Delta and back home in the Swamplands. Elijah broke that trusting part of her soul, and he was gon’ have to restore it. To win her back, he was gon’ have to put in that work.

A small part of her though—probably her sweet girl tucked comfortably in her womb or her baby girl laid peacefully in her grave—wanted to forgive him. Seeing him after so long apart brought back so many emotions. They were swirling around in her body, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

She was hopeful.

Resentful.

Full of love.

Full of anger.

That man was her man, even if she wasn’t his woman.

Throat dry from her rest, Annie reached over to her bedside table for the glass of water she kept there. But before she could pick it up, her gaze drifted to that leather-bound journal. The one Elijah had given her tearfully as she excused him from her presence. Annie didn’t even try to pretend that she didn’t want to read it. For months, she’d been reading Elijah’s letters and had come to expect and enjoy them.

Reading his journal would offer an entirely different perspective of the man she loved with every fiber of her being. She grabbed it, neglecting her need for water, flipping it to the very first.

There she found shakenly written words and smudged pen—evidence that her husband was fighting back something wild in order to bear his soul on the page. It was dated for around four months of him being away.

Pensive, Annie began to take in the words.

I don't know what I'm doin' writin' down my thoughts like this, but something's gotta give. I keep things locked away so much that I act rash and out-of-order. I ain't never just let myself feel nothing but anger. Except with my Annie. With Annie, I let myself feel good 'cause she good. When I'm with her, most things feel alright.

I love Annie more than life itself. From the moment I laid my eyes on her, she became my guidin' light. That thing that remains constant and picks me up when I'm down. She always been there for me without a second thought, but I couldn't be that for her. I couldn't look past my own hurt to help her wade through hers.

I don't think I can push down the guilt of that this time.

Annie swallowed the heaviness in her throat. She ran her hand along the tattered pages of the journal, face becoming hot from his solemn words. She continued—a little more hesitant this time. She flipped a few pages forward, about five months into him being gone.

Every time I close my eyes, I’m haunted by my sins. I’m haunted by the people I’ve killed in the name of a country who don’t give a shit ‘bout me. I’m haunted by my father’s face and foul words, tellin’ me I’m gon’ grow up to be just like him. I’m haunted by my failure as a husband and a father, how I left Annie to deal with the pain alone.

I think about that day often. I woke up beside her that morning, knowin’ I was leavin’ her but still tryin’ to deny the hurt I was gon’ cause her. I had Elias of all people tryin’ to set me straight, but it wasn’t ‘til I saw that look on Annie’s face. That hurt. That betrayal. That sadness. It wasn’t ‘til then that it really set in.

I hate myself for adding to her pain. I plotted my leavin’ then I stood in front of her without a word to say but her name. I’m haunted by our last moments together, laying on her chest to hear her breathin’, thinkin’ ‘bout all the mistakes I’ve made. I should have provided for my family better and made sure my daughter was healthy. I hate myself for ruinin’ our lives.

The words were jarring. Mostly because she’d never heard Elijah admitting so much fault. He apologized to her earlier, but this felt different—more tangible. The words were written plainly in her face, and somehow she could still feel the raw emotion of it all.

No matter how upset she was with him, Annie never wanted Elijah to blame himself for the ruin of their lives. She simply couldn't believe that their lives were ruined indefinitely.

When their daughter died, she saw the guilt settle behind his eyes. He believed that if he stopped playing around with Stack—robbing folks and doing all manner of unjust things—their daughter would have never died. He believed that if he had the money to pay for her medications and treatments, then they’d all be happy and together, but Annie knew that to be untrue.

She had gotten so sick so fast. One morning she’d woken up with a small cough, and before they knew it, their baby girl was gone. There was nothing anyone could have done. Not even Annie and all the magic in the world.

Her jaw quivered, remembering the day he left her. Their daughter was shifting, getting comfortable in her mother's belly with the on-slot of uncomfortable emotions. Annie's mind wavered as she thought back to the very last time she and Elijah made love—just before her left for Chicago.

“I’m so sorry,” Elijah cried into Annie’s neck, hips grinding into her. His movements were erratic and strident—like his body wanted to make sure his apology wasn’t taken in vain; like no matter how hard he tried to steady himself, the thought of Annie’s eventual resentment was killing him.

She held onto him like it was the last time she’d be able to—like she knew what was going to happen when he walked out of her door; like the hope she had of him doing right by her was slipping away with each unsteady thrust.

“ ‘Lijah,” she crooned, allowing the tears to fall freely down her cheeks. She allowed him to fill her, but nothing was good enough to ease her broken soul. She needed more of him, a security that she knew he wasn't able to provide.

“I’m sorry,” he insisted, breaking down more with the passing thrusts.

“Why you doin’ this to me,” she wailed, moaning through the heartbreak. She sobbed in a way she hadn't since their baby girl died. It was twingeing, like she was grieving the loss of a love her body had birthed. “Why you gotta do this to us?”

The us carried more weight than it should have. It wasn’t just us, meaning Annie and Elijah—their marriage, their home, their love. It was us, meaning the entire family—Annie, Elijah, and their baby girl.

“A-Annie,” he croaked. Her name was always the only one on his lips.

“Elijah,” she whispered, affirming who he belonged to, attesting to how he was only hers just with the announcement of that name.

When their climax hit—joint and full of anguish—Elijah refused to move from where he was planted inside of her. He didn’t know how long he’d be away—however long grief takes to remedy—but he would make sure that he remembered this sight, this feeling.

Annie was tucked away in his arms, and Elijah was cradled into her bosom. Her heartbeat rapped firmly against her chest as he pressed his ear there, indulging in the steady knocking sound. Elijah saw it as a reminder that she was alive and here and his. Sometimes when he woke up frightened from nightmares, he’d reach over to her and place his ear on her chest—just to make sure.

Elijah didn’t know what he would do if Annie somehow disappeared from the earth. He’d experienced so much loss that losing her seemed inevitable, but then he’d look at her and have to be confronted by the fact that she appeared immortal. In his early years, Elijah thought running away from her and his love would make it easier. And laying next to her now, whispered goodbyes still lingering on his lips, Elijah realized that he was still running.

And he didn’t know how to stop.

While he listened to her breathing, Annie memorized the sound of his. She committed the cadence to her mind as if she would never hear it again. She laid there, face pointed toward the ceiling, Elijah clinging to her body. She prayed over every obstacle that would end up in his way. She begged for safe passage and lamented for him to be returned carefully.

She didn’t know how long she’d have to remember his breathing and the feeling of his chest rising and failing against her ribs, so Annie laid there. Quiet. Reverent. Taking in her last moments with her Elijah.

Discomfort was making way into her body again. Annie’s sweet girl wouldn’t stop moving—knowing that her papa was on her mama’s mind. Her back ached, something that hadn’t stopped in the seven months she’d been pregnant. And all she could think about was if Elijah were there, he’d been rubbing her feet and massaging her shoulders to rid her body of every pain.

~~~~~~~~~~

“M-mornin’,” Elijah jumped back, slightly startled. He’d been head first in a chicken coop, tending to his list of chores, when he rose to see Annie behind him.

Her arms were folded across her chest, laid atop her belly. Her posture was wide and sturdy as her eyes drifted over him. Her face held a perfect scowl. The navy gingham dress she wore fit her body in all the right places, showing off her pregnant body wonderfully, rustling as the autumn wind blew.

The air wafted faintly with honeysuckle and Annie’s perfume. Elijah seemed to be so clouded by the scent and sight of her that he couldn’t begin to care about the lingering farm-fresh smells of chicken shit and dirt.

“Good mornin’,” Annie quirked her eyebrow at him, looking over the bandaged wound on his throat. She held back the feisty grin that tried to break out on her face, opting to purse her lips. He handled the chicken eggs with heavy hands, as he always did, picking up three or four eggs at a time. “Guess you got a head start on things?” She threw the question out after seeing the sweat drenching his white muscle shirt.

“Wanted to make sure I got to everything timely,” Elijah admitted, breath a little heavy from the adrenaline rush Annie was known to give him. She looked too good for the sun to barely be out yet; Even with the evident fatigue he picked up on, she was gorgeous. “I wanted to leave me space to do what else you need,” he nodded shorty, raking the dirty hay out of the chicken coop to distract himself from her gaze.

“Mm,” Annie nodded, silently indulging in the view of him. She eyed his body, which she knew well, expression remaining unmoved. Elijah’s tawny skin glistened in the sparse sunlight. His biceps bulged as he shoveled the hay into a wheelbarrow, hefting a fresh stack into the coop to spread around. She bit her bottom lip at how he bent over to make it even.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout fryin’ you up some eggs and bacon for breakfast,” he threw out, trying to gauge how much she’d allow him to do for her. “I know you ain’t always hungry this early in the mornin’, but with baby girl you loved havin’ a good breakfast.” It was true, and Annie hated that he remembered—that he was right. Every morning since she’d gotten pregnant again, she always had a hankering for breakfast. “If you fine with me comin’ inside, I’d love to cook you something.”

“You got shit to do, and I can cook my own food,” she tutted, knowing she would rather him do it for her. She hadn't been on her feet much at all the past few weeks. One of her friends was always here to cook breakfast in the morning and supper in the evening. With the pain she’d been in, she couldn’t do much, but she told the girls that she wouldn't need them to stop by that day. She planned to put Elijah to work, and those three deserved a break anyhow.

“I know you can," Elijah wiped his brow, propping the rake up. He finally looked at her again. He walked toward her in slow steps to measure her receptiveness. "I have all day to finish them chores," he concluded after noting the way she didn't seem opposed to him being closer. There were still several feet between them, but he was just glad to be in her presence again. "I ain’t got no where else to be but here with y’all.” He looked down at her belly. The smile that made its way on his lips caused Annie's position to soften.

“Fine,” she caved. “But feed and water my chickens first.” Annie turned her eyes away from dragging over his body, attempting to quiet her want for him. She’d somehow forgotten what it felt like to be in his vicinity. Elijah exuded a loud energy, despite his quiet and contemplative nature. When she was near him, she couldn’t help but want to get closer.

As he immediately went back to work, Annie moved across the yard and climbed the porch steps. Her daughter was being a pain in the ass at the moment: twisting and turning like she had somewhere to be, kicking her mother in the ribs, making Annie all sorts of nauseous and uncomfortable. The woman grabbed the stair railing, placing one foot in front of the other. But with a sharp pain at the side of her stomach, Annie’s grip left the rail to cradle her belly, leaving her to stumble on the stairs.

Elijah sprung into action quickly, dropping the feed bucket to the ground. He could see Annie free-falling, and his life began to flash before his eyes. His worse nightmare began before him; His wife was going to hit the ground, and he didn’t know if he could save her in time. On steady yet terrified feet, Elijah ran across the yard, gait wide and arms open to catch her.

At the very last second, Annie landed—with a sharp gust of air and a surprised squeal—into Elijah’s secure arms. She was astounded, stuck somewhere between disbelieving that Elijah was actually there to catch her and elated that he had saved her—saved them.

He was talking—running his heavy hands gently across her face and hair to see if she was alright—but Annie couldn’t hear him. All she could seem to focus on was the sound of his rapidly beating pulse and the fullness of his lips. It was good to hear his heart beat again. For seven months, she played it back in her mind, sadness flooding her when she realized that he wasn’t truly there. But now she was in his embrace, tucked firmly in his chest as Elijah muttered on about her being careful and needing to slow down.

"I'm serious, Ann," Elijah punctuated, looking at her like a deep part of his soul was pained. He couldn't push away the concern and worry that rested between his brows—not that he wanted to. He was always worried about Annie. "I don't need y'all gettin' hurt."

"I know 'Lijah," Annie pushed up out of his arms. She dusted away the wrinkles in her gingham dress, smoothing away the feeling of his touch on her. "I'm just a li'l tired is all."

"Let me help you inside," he responded without so much as a pause. He wrapped a brawny arm around her waist, causing Annie's breath to leave her at his quick movements. He guided her slowly up the steps and into the house, not wanting to put too much stress and strain on her body.

Elijah's hand landed on Annie's side. It timidly grazed her stomach, desperate for the chance to feel as much of her as possible. He didn't know when he'd get this close again. Annie allowed his hand to wander as they moved through the front door, but Elijah laughed gustily after feeling a forceful hit against his palm.

"She always kick that hard," he questioned Annie, aiding her in settling into her favorite chair in the front room. He felt tears forming in his eyes again, so badly desiring the opportunity to feel his daughter again.

"Seem like she don't know how to stop kickin’," the woman confessed, smiling at the astonishment on his face while she rested comfortably. Annie hoped that some of those emotions she was having toward seeing her husband work so hard would go away. She wanted him in a way she didn't know was appropriate anymore. He didn't deserve to have her wandering eyes on him, and heading inside was her attempt to get rid of those feelings.

But of course she had to fall. And of course he had to catch her.

Elijah was now in her kitchen, moving around like it was where he belonged—because in some ways it was. He had finished feeding the chickens and had cleaned up. He was committed to making her breakfast and taking care of her in the way she deserved.

Annie rested in her chair, sewing together a quilt for when her daughter arrived. Every now and then, her eyes gazed up to watch Elijah cook. She felt more relaxed now that she was surrounded by lit candles, sharp-smelling herbs, and her husband. A stark and honest energy filled the room. It was lodged with an understanding of everything that had occurred for them to end up here, still somehow committed despite the difficulties and shortcomings along the way.

Annie’s anger and resentment still bubbled below the surface, but it was at bay for now. She just wanted to enjoy this—the chance to have him here and not have to worry about his safety.

“Where you sleep last night,” she questioned, fingers nimbly sewing squares of multi-colored fabric together. She didn't look up at him this time, fearful of that calming fire behind his eyes. She didn't need him to know that she was worried or that she cared, but how could she not want to know his whereabouts. Even if she was the reason he hadn't slept under her roof, she still deserved to know if he’d found a place to rest.

“Bo let me stay in his storeroom. Got me a cot," Elijah remedied, noticing the fretfulness in her voice and the way her body relaxed at his admittance. The side of his mouth raised just barely, looking up from the hot stove and sizzling bacon to lay eyes on her. His body melted every time he remembered or saw how beautiful she looked like this: calm, resolute, and bearing his child.

“How the pregnancy been,” he wondered, moving the bacon out of the cast iron skillet and onto a plate to drain. He drained some of the bacon grease into the li’l jar Annie kept on the stove for cooking, using the rest to fry up some eggs and toast some bread. “Been havin’ any cravings? A lotta pain? Many dreams?” Elijah wanted to know every detail of what he had missed.

With the first pregnancy, he was hyper-vigilant of everything. He couldn’t stop badgering Annie about when she’d last eaten, or what he could do to ease her pain, or if she needed assistance getting around.

But he didn’t want to do that this time. He was towing a fine line between appreciation and disdain right now. Annie didn’t have to allow him to be there, and if she wanted him gone again, she wouldn’t wait to let it be known.

“All that and more,” she shifted her weight, a hand resting underneath her belly. The other hand collected the quilting material and scraps, putting them to the side. “It’s been hard with everything else goin’ on, but misery ain’t worth complainin’ bout.” She rose up from her chair as she noticed Smoke plating the food. He tried his best to not put too much pressure on her, but he so desperately needed to help her walk to the dining room. As he was setting the plate down to move toward the pregnant woman, Annie saw the despair in his eyes. “I’m ok, Elijah. I can walk just fine,” she held a hand up, halting his course. “My sweet girl growin’ strong and healthy—that’s all I can ask for.”

Elijah smiled. He pulled his wife's chair out for her, sitting her plate in front of her. He moved to the other side of the table.

“That what you been callin’ her?” His voice was low and earnest.

Annie hummed affirmatively. She sat there, eating the food he cooked, unsurprised with how good it tasted. Elijah was always a good cook; A childhood spent having to fend for himself and his brother would do that to him.

She met his eyes, swallowing a mouthful of food and nervous attraction. Things felt so new between them. So new that her heart was reigniting her emotions toward him. As much as she wanted to be indifferent toward him, he was still hers.

“She gon’ be a li’l rowdy one,” she confirmed, recalling the dreams she had of a rambunctious little fish, stirring water and crowding around her feet. “I ‘pect she’ll turn out like that crazy brother of yours.” Annie chuckled at the thought of what their future held.

Elijah laughed jollily, pure happiness and hopeful anticipation surrounding him. Annie ate quietly, enjoying the meal he’d put together.

The air stirred as he felt the need to fill the quiet around them. There were things they hadn’t discussed. Things neither of them knew how to name properly.

“From the moment I met you, I knew I wanted to have a life with ya’.” He grinned at the memories of a young Elijah, running behind Annie and then away from her when he got too scared—just to come right back. “I wanted the house. And the big yard. And the car outfront. And the babies,” he gathered himself. His lip was caught between his teeth, noticing the way sadness and regret rose up from his feet. “I’m sorry I betrayed your trust and broke our vows. In sickness and in health extends beyond just you and me. When baby girl got sick, my heart shut off. That ain’t fair to you.”

Annie pushed her plate to the side, food unfinished and her appetite plummeting. Her teethed clenched as her negative feelings toward her husband came rushing back, replacing the easy loving she felt before. She was never a woman to hold her tongue, and she wasn’t going to start now.

“I grew a hatred for you, Elijah. The man I loved did somethin’ I never expected him to do.” She shook her head, as matching tears filled both of their eyes. Her head tilted to the side at the sadness between his brows. It annoyed her to no end. It made her body ache. The reminder of their daughters did little to bring her back to earth.

“Loved?” Elijah threw the question out, not knowing if he really wanted an answer. No matter what she said, he was going to love her for the rest of his life and past the point of death. “You don’t love me no more?”

Annie expelled an exasperated sigh. The gall of him to ask such a question when she was carrying his child, when he knew what family and connection meant to her. She had been taught by a long line of women the importance of relying on love—familial love, communal love, romantic love. She had been taught that love comes with heartache and difficulty, but even if she wanted Elijah, she wasn't gon' be okay with him coming back with repercussions.

“There’s no way on God's green Earth that I couldn’t love you, Elijah," she remarked peeved, rolling her eyes. "I love you so much that I got yo’ baby in me right now. I love you so much that I’m not gon’ kill yo’ ass for bein’ a dumbass. But you gon’ have to fix the broken parts of my heart. That’s your responsibility.”

The man appeared receptive, nodding solemnly after every sentence she spoke. Elijah wanted to badly to comfort her, but he knew not to do anything without Annie initiating first. She was justified in her hatred and resentment, and he didn't want to push her too far too soon.

The day was still young. The early morning sky was transitioning from pale pink and orange to a sturdy blue. Her rooster was beginning to crow, loud and disruptive, reminding her that she had things to do even if it was just resting and sewing together her daughter's quilt. Her body was beyond tired, and her emotions were muddled, but at least she wasn’t alone anymore.

At least Elijah seemed recommitted to their love—and to her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days passed of Elijah doing everything Annie told him—and more. He was completing her daily chores: feeding her chickens, collecting eggs, cleaning the pen, watering her garden, harvesting her vegetables, gathering her herbs, filling her water pail, boiling her fresh water. He was tending to the things that needed fixing: the leaking roof, the draftiness of the front windows, that creaking floorboard. He was even taking care of the things she swore she could do alone: cooking her every meal, fixing her bath water, washing and hanging her clothes, and massaging out her aches.

He was making sure Annie knew how serious he was about fixing what he had broken and being there for his girls.

Many times as he worked, he found himself drifting toward his daughter's grave, cleaning away the leaves and just talking to her like she hadn't missed a thing.

"Your sister will be here in 'bout two months, baby girl," his spoke, voice calm as he raked the leaves away from her grave. A warm smile sat in his face as he thought about his girls. "Ya' mama always look so pretty, but she been too pretty recently. Just be makin' my heart cry every time I see her." His cheeks got hot at the thought.

Annie had truly been glowing lately, skin dewy with love and contentment. The pregnant glow was fully taking over as we body and soul finally got a chance to rest. Now that Elijah was home, it seemed that her worries were drifting away day by day.

"You pretty just like her," he proclaimed like his daughter was sitting in front of him in the flesh. In some way she was. She felt so real still, and since he’d been home and so open to feeling, it was like he allowed himself to feel the way she had never really left them. All those nights Annie stayed up at the foot of her grave, talking our into the air—she was talking to their daughter.

"You always been a smooth talker even when you don't think so.” Annie stepped out of the back door, holding onto the door jam. She’d been watching him, not trying to listen to his words but unable to help the way they warmed her body. She began to descend the stairs, mine trained on reaching her daughter's grave to commune with her favorite people, but Elijah dropped his task to help her.

He was still nervous of her being up and moving around because of her fall and the near disaster. But he knew that there was no way of stopping her from doing something she wanted. He would just have to help her as best as her could. His breath was taken away by her beauty and being able to feel her pressed against him again.

"I don't know how true that is," Elijah expressed, paying attention to her feet to make sure they hit each step solidly. He guided her to the grave, rushing over to get the wooden chair Annie kept on the back porch.

She thanked him indebtedly as her body sunk into the cool wood of the seat. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and she stretched her limbs to get as comfortable as possible.

"When no one's watching," she began, continuing her point about his use of smooth words, "you speak from the heart.” She looked towards the small rock with their daughter’s handprint, eyes widening as if she were having two conversations at once. She moved her gaze back to Elijah as he began raking the leaves again. “Yo’ words be so smooth and full of love when you ain’t worried ‘bout somebody hearin’. Like when you used to lay on my chest at night, whispering 'bout how much you love me, thinkin' I was sleep. I read that in yo' journal, but I always knew."

Elijah didn't even know what to say.

He never would have suspected that Annie knew of his routine of listening to her heartbeat when recovering from a nightmare. It surprisingly didn’t embarrass him or make him feel shameful. Her knowledge of it only added to his understanding that she knew him better than anyone else. And he liked it that way.

He also appreciated knowing that she actually read his journal. When he started it, he had no intention to allow anyone to read his words. That journal was every thought he'd ever had. Every pain. Every trauma. Every regret.

But it only made sense to give it to Annie.

"I love you, Annie Moore," he saddled himself with speaking, enjoying the way the breeze drawled through her dark brown hair. There was nothing more right to express than his love. In the cool air of an autumn day, sat alongside his wife and his two daughters, Elijah Moore felt more whole than he ever had. "I love all of y'all," he nodded sharply as a way to make the declaration definitive.

"We love you too, papa,” Annie chuckled through her bashfulness. She admired the care her husband took toward cleaning their daughter’s grave. He sank down onto his knees, dusting away the last few leaves, and he planted a hand right on the cool ground, getting as close to their baby girl as possible.

"The girls told me that you been meetin' with them 'bout the baby shower,” Annie remarked, cocking her head to the side to read his reactions. Her friends had stopped by the day prior, relaying to her of how they’d put him to work on the details Annie couldn’t be bothered with: colors of things, types of food, people to invite. They’d also insinuated that they were surprised by her husband’s readiness. That they had never seen Elijah so responsive and elated. But when Annie attempted to probe the group for more details, they wouldn’t grant her wishes.

She didn’t know what they meant by his “readiness,” and Elijah wasn’t a particularly jovial or elated man either—not with anyone besides her.

"They bombarded me at Chow's Grocery a few evenings ago,” he gawked, looking over his shoulder at her. He recognized the look on her face—trying hard to dig for more information, and he was prepared to answer her every question. “It’s been fun—really. Didn’t think I’d be the type of man who enjoyed the details of plannin’ something like this. It’s new for me.”

“You an action man,” Annie remarked to which Elijah nodded in agreement.

“It’s nice bein’ on this side of things,” he sighed contently. Between him and his twin, he had always been the one to complete a task or help someone meet their end. Always trigger-happy. Always asking questions after the deed was done. Elias was the one to gather details and make things pretty. On many occasions, the younger twin was dressing them both, doing his brother’s hair, plotting their escape from various situations.

But it astounded Elijah that he could somehow have a part in creating something pure and beautiful. His daughter’s always made him feel that way. Like a part of him was pure because they were. Like creating them allowed his dirty slate to be wiped clean. Like his sinning ways were made anew.

“I been tryin' to ask Grace ‘nem for days what they needed me to help with,” he added on, tone dripping in that low southern drawl, “but every time I walked up to her, she growled at me like I was the Devil."

Annie tutted at the comparison, knowing that her friends didn’t play about her just as much as Elijah didn’t. Her family was loyal to her, and even if she didn’t fully agree with how they’d been treating her husband, she was appreciative of their dedication.

"Well, that's how they see you now," the woman shrugged, raising her eyebrows with the expression. She wasn’t shocked—especially with how much they cared for her every single day he was gone. "Them girls been here through some of the worse parts of this pregnancy. They been tendin’ to my needs and bein’ the best family I could ask for. So you can't blame 'em for feelin’ unsavory towards you."

"I don't blame 'em. Not one bit."

The pair sat quietly, reveling in the quiet joy a slow day could bring—in the peace they’d been able to thrive in the past few days.

Elijah found his mind wandering off. He thought back to how Pearline, Grace, and Mary cornered him as he arrived back at the Grocery after a long day of taking care of Annie's home and her needs. As he opened the door to the back storeroom, there they stood—looking about ready to fight him.

"See you done bein' a deadbeat daddy," Grace suggested in that special sass only she could possess, head cocked to the side and brows scrunched up. Elijah physically recoiled at the hostility—though he did understand it. The way the three women crowded around him made unease settle in his body.

He opened his mouth to speak—an apology, an acknowledgement, something to ease the rough feelings they’d grown toward him—but he was swiftly interrupted by another sharp remark.

“You men always expect women to just take you back when you fuck up,” Mary projected, rolling her eyes.

"You had our girl lookin' foolish, waitin' for a nigga who hardly act like he wants her," Pearline grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. The three women’s words caused fire to spread across Elijah’s body. He deserved every ounce of ridicule. He’d fucked up massively, and there was no true redemption for a man who leaves his woman in a time of need, but they were wrong to perceive him in such a way.

Elijah had always been a good father, and if he had known, he would have been on the next train back to the Delta. And despite Mary's thoughts, he never expected Annie to forgive him, and he thought it impossible that she ever would at times.

The thing that really irked him though was the assertion that he didn’t want Annie.

Annie was all Elijah ever wanted.

He struggled so much with speaking his love aloud. He showed it in the things he did for her, in how he allowed her to command him, in how he so easily gave into her instruction. But the people in their lives—their friends and found family—hardly ever heard him speak his love and want of her.

He was a man of few words, a quality he didn’t know how to amend—or if it was even necessary. But he didn’t like people thinking Annie wasn't the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, so he needed to remedy that with a quickness.

“One of the only people I’ve ever cared ‘bout besides my brother is Annie and everything that comes along with her,” Elijah confessed, head held strong but emotions pouring out of him like a river of truth. “And I might not speak my love, but I show it—I try to.” The desperation climbed up his throat, making his voice gravely. “I been tryin’ all week to piece together what I broke, and I don’t even expect Annie to accept that. But I’m showin’ her everyday that I want her. That I love her.

“Shit I been tryin’ to get your attention all week about the baby shower,” he pointed his body towards Grace, words flying out hastily in petition. “I just wanna be put to work. If y’all wanna give me the most gruelin’ tasks, then please do. I just need something—anything.”

The women met each other’s eyes, quietly determining the way forward. They had half the mind to not include him in any of the planning, but they knew they’d have to answer to Annie; And somehow—by a sheer miracle—the woman had been so content lately.

The return of her husband was brightening her spirits and making her pregnancy more tolerable. She hadn’t been having as much pain, and she was actually reintegrating back into town after being locked away for months.

If Annie was happy, then they were happy. But that didn’t mean they weren’t going to be more cautious moving forward.

“You do wrong by her again, Smoke, and we won’t be so kind to you next time,” Grace commanded before filling him in on the things he could assist with. Elijah took note, dictating the orders in his mind like the soldier he was taught to be.

“There won’t be a next time,” he assured, voice no longer desperate and clinging to an ounce of pity. He was confident that never again would he break Annie’s heart, and he was going to show them that.

“Better not be,” Mary nodded, making her way toward the storefront behind Grace.

“A couple of angry Mississippi woman worse than anything one—or two—Moore men can do,” Pearline leveled him, eyes burning with a controlled fire. The three women filed out of his room with their heads pointed high, backs straight, and fists balled up. Their loyalty for Annie lingered in the room long after their departure, rattling Elijah's comfort.

The man drifted back into the present as Annie began to speak behind him. Warm and honeyed words of Yoruba left her lips, coating the air between them. She was talking to her daughters with a bright smile on her face, something she was known to do often. Her hands caressed her belly, and her upper body rocked side to side as her words formed their own natural rhythm.

This is exactly what he meant about his wife being so beautiful that it made his heart cry. The sun was glittering off her plush skin, the breeze was mingling with her clothes, the leaves were falling around her in halos.

Annie was heavenly—Elijah’s Heaven on Earth.

“What you lookin’ at me like that for, ‘Lijah,” she crooked her neck to the side, slipping seamlessly between Yoruba and English. She added on that sweet Creole flair from her upbringing just the way the man liked it.

He didn’t even attempt to find an excuse, not allowing embarrassment at being caught settle into his body. Elijah stood on solid feet. He took two short steps toward Annie, standing over her chair.

The woman’s breath caught as her husband placed a hand on her face. His normally cold and calloused fingertips were warm and tender. Elijah touched her like she was the last good thing on Earth, and she let him.

The feeling of his skin on hers made her eyes cloud over. It was evocative and fond—reminding her of every sweet caress, every moment spent in each others arms, every night of prayers being whispered against each other’s lips. It was allusive and hopeful—reminding her of the pain they shared, the greedy thirst for each other, the fear of losing a love they’d spent their whole lives searching for.

Just one simple touch, and she was a goner; And that was before he had even spoken.

“Don’t know how I’ve lived so long with you as my wife,” Elijah’s voice crooned, thick with tears that were threatening to gather in his eyes. “Every time I look at you, feel like my heart gon’ burst inside my chest.”

Annie blinked.

Once.

Twice.

She was unable to hold back the emotions bubbling inside her.

“Negro, please,” she bursted out laughing. She threw her head back as the truest laugh she’d felt in months left in body. There he went with that smooth talking, looking at her like she was what dreams were made of.

And Annie knew that she was the manifestation of every hope and dream Elijah had ever had.

He never attempted to hide it—not really. The hardened man was always so soft with her, proving all the odds wrong. No matter what he thought about himself or what anyone told him, he could be soft and caring and passionate and pure.

“You don’t believe me,” he questioned as Annie continued to laugh. His heightened emotions were beginning to level as her joy filled him. The sight of her flushed face brought a smile to his.

“Oh, I believe you,” she chuckled, wiping away a stray tear. “You just be talkin’ like one of them men from them motion pictures.”

Elijah shook his head in disagreement, giggling along nonetheless. The energy began to calm again as Annie’s happiness ebbed and flowed around them.

Now that Elijah was back, she saw herself as an even stronger woman than she’d realized. Elijah was all she had left. Besides her friends, he was the only person she still had on this Earth, and his leaving tore her into pieces. She hadn’t realized how hard it was to not have him. How easy things were when he was here.

It frightened her that life and love were so fragile. That on any given day, a person could leave her forever.

But as she looked at Elijah, dragging her eyes over his remorseful face and softening exterior, she knew he’d never leave her side again.

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a/n: thickkk ass chapter,, for reference, chapter one was only 1600 words- what are our thoughts? how do we feel? i'm trying to make annie forgiving him a gradual process. i also thought this update would be really sad, but i picked things up towards the endd

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

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mini taglist: comment below to be added for this fic only!