Page 31 of Gamble (Black Light #38)

ELIJAH

T he pills weren’t working anymore.

Elijah stared at the collection of amber prescription bottles cluttering his coffee table—Percocet, muscle relaxers, anti-inflammatories—and wondered if he’d built up a tolerance or if the pain had simply evolved beyond what modern medicine could touch.

His hip throbbed with a deep, grinding ache that radiated down his leg and up his spine, a constant reminder of his stupidity and the surgery that loomed in his future.

The living room had become his world for the past week.

Empty Chinese takeout containers shared space on the coffee table with his medications and a stack of unread books.

The television droned in the background—some mindless talk show he wasn’t watching—providing white noise to fill the oppressive silence of his self-imposed isolation.

Dr. Jennings had been blunt during Tuesday’s appointment: the fall had done significant damage to joints that were already compromised.

The hip replacement Elijah had been dreading was no longer optional.

They were just waiting for the swelling to subside enough to make surgery viable.

Until then, he was trapped in his own body, dependent on pills that barely dulled the edge of his misery.

This is what fifty looks like, you pathetic bastard.

His phone buzzed against his leg, and Elijah’s chest tightened with the familiar mixture of longing and dread. He didn’t need to look to know it was another text from Reagan. They’d been coming all week, evolving from concerned to hurt to increasingly angry as his silence stretched on.

At first, she’d been worried: Are you okay? Did something happen? Please just let me know you’re safe.

Then, confused and hurt: I don’t understand. I thought we had something real. Can we please just talk?

And now... now her messages carried the sharp edge of betrayal that made his chest feel hollow: You’re a coward, Elijah. I trusted you, and you’re treating me like I’m nothing.

He should delete her number. Block her. Make it impossible for either of them to reach out. But he couldn’t bring himself to cut that last thread, even as each message felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

The doorbell’s chime jolted him from his brooding.

Elijah started to push himself upright, then collapsed back onto the couch as fire shot through his hip and back.

Whoever it was could damn well go away. He wasn’t in the mood for visitors, solicitors, or well-meaning friends who wanted to lecture him about his choices.

But then he heard the electronic beep of his security keypad being activated, followed by the distinctive sound of his front door unlocking. Only a handful of people had that code—Madison, Tyler, Jaxson, Chase, Emma, and...

“It’s just me!” Nalani’s familiar voice called out.

Elijah closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. Of all the people who could have shown up today, Nalani was perhaps the most dangerous to his carefully constructed walls of self-pity. The woman had an uncanny ability to see through his bullshit and wasn’t afraid to call him on it.

He heard the front door close, followed by the rustle of what sounded like shopping bags. Nalani’s voice carried from the foyer as she set things down.

“Don’t even think about trying to get up. I brought supplies.”

She appeared around the corner moments later, her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail and her arms full of grocery bags.

At thirty-two, Nalani had evolved from the shy, young housekeeper he’d first met into a confident woman who managed the domestic side of Shane Covington’s celebrity life with impressive efficiency.

When she looked at Elijah, her dark-brown eyes still held the same mixture of affection and exasperation she’d had on her last visit days before.

“You look like hell,” she announced without preamble, setting the bags down and taking in the chaos of his living room. “When was the last time you showered?”

“Nice to see you too, kiddo,” Elijah grumbled, pulling a throw pillow over his face. “Did Madison send you to check up on me?”

“Madison mentioned you were still being a stubborn ass about accepting help, but no one sent me. I came because I’m worried about you.

” Nalani began unpacking the bags, revealing what looked like enough groceries for a week.

“Shane left this morning to go to Vancouver for a few reshoots, so I have time to play nursemaid to grumpy old men who don’t know how to take care of themselves. ”

“I’m taking care of myself just fine.”

Nalani snorted, gesturing at the disaster zone surrounding him. “This is what you call taking care of yourself? Elijah, there’s a pizza box from when I was here four days ago molding on your kitchen counter.”

“I’ve been eating,” he protested.

“Takeout and pills don’t constitute a balanced diet.” She disappeared into the kitchen, and he could hear her moving around, cleaning and organizing. “When’s your surgery scheduled?” she called.

“Sometime the week after next. Assuming the swelling goes down enough.”

“And who’s going to take care of you after?” she called from the next room.

Elijah hadn’t thought that far ahead. The idea of being even more helpless than he already was made his stomach churn. “I’ll manage.”

“Bullshit.” Nalani reappeared with a glass of water and what looked like homemade soup in a real bowl—not a takeout container.

“I’m staying with you for the first few days after surgery.

Don’t argue,” she added when he opened his mouth to protest. “Shane and I already discussed it. We’re not letting you go through this alone. ”

The kindness in her voice made his throat tight. Nalani and Shane were busy planning their wedding, dealing with his career demands, and building their life together. The last thing they needed was to babysit a broken-down ex-stuntman who’d brought his problems on himself.

“You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be high on pain medication and barely able to walk. You need someone to make sure you don’t fall down the stairs or forget to eat.” She settled into the chair across from him, her expression softening. “Besides, you’ve been like a father to me. Let me return the favor.”

Like a father.

The words should have made him feel warm, grateful for the family bond they’d built over the years. Instead, they made him feel ancient. Decrepit. Exactly like the old man Reagan was better off without considering the women were about the same age.

His phone buzzed again against his leg, and this time Nalani noticed him flinch.

“Your phone’s been going off constantly since I got here. Is everything okay?”

“It’s nothing,” Elijah said too quickly, reaching to silence the device.

But Nalani had always been observant, and his obvious discomfort only sharpened her attention. “That doesn’t sound like nothing. Who’s been texting you so much?”

“Just work stuff. Nothing important.”

The phone buzzed again, and Nalani’s eyes narrowed. “Elijah, Tyler’s been covering your shifts. What work emergency could?—”

She moved faster than his drug-addled reflexes could counter, snatching the phone from his loose grip before he could stop her. His attempt to reach for it sent pain shooting through his back, and he collapsed against the couch cushions with a grunt of agony.

“Give that back, Nalani.”

But she was already scrolling through his messages, her expression shifting from concern to confusion to something that looked almost like hurt.

“Who the hell is Reagan?” she demanded, looking up from the screen. “And why is she... oh my God, Elijah. She’s in love with you.”

His chest felt like it was caving in. “Those are private messages. Give me the phone.”

“Not until you explain this. Who is Reagan Murphy and why have I never heard of her?” Nalani’s voice carried the sharp edge of someone who’d been excluded from something important. “She’s been texting you for a week, begging you to talk to her. What did you do?”

“Nothing. It’s complicated.”

“Try me.” She scrolled back through the messages, and Elijah could see her reading Reagan’s increasingly desperate attempts to reach him. “Jesus, Elijah. She’s destroyed. What happened between you two?”

The combination of pain medication and emotional exhaustion broke through his defenses.

Maybe it was the disappointment in Nalani’s voice, or maybe it was just the relief of having someone to talk to, but the entire story came tumbling out.

Vegas, Reagan, their perfect weekend, the daily texts and phone calls, his growing feelings, the accident, the cowardly text message that had ended everything.

Nalani listened in silence, her expression shifting through a dozen emotions as he spoke. When he finished, she was quiet for a long moment, staring down at the phone in her hands.

“You met this woman three weeks ago and fell in love with her,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t say I was in love with her.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it in your face.” Nalani looked up at him, and there was something in her eyes he couldn’t quite read. “Why didn’t you tell me about her? About any of this?”

The question hit harder than he’d expected. “Because it doesn’t matter now.”

“It matters to me. You’ve been there for every important moment in my life since I came to Los Angeles.

You helped me figure out my feelings for Shane, trying to protect me from his—“ Nalani paused, smiling before adding “—his unique proclivities. You stood by me after the whole Henry Ainsworth nightmare.” She hesitated then, visibly shivering at the mere mention of her rapist’s name.

“You didn’t think I’d want to know that you’d found someone who made you happy? ”

The reproach in her voice made him feel small. “It was just a weekend. It wasn’t supposed to turn into anything.”

“But it turned into something,” she answered, her voice rising.

“And instead of fighting for it, you sabotaged it.” Nalani scrolled through more of Reagan’s messages, shaking her head.

“She’s twenty-nine, Elijah. She’s not a child.

For God’s sake, she is a surgical nurse.

Don’t you think she’s capable of making her own decisions about what she wants? ”

“She doesn’t know what she wants. She doesn’t understand what being with someone like me would mean,” he argued back.

“Someone like you? What does that mean?”

Elijah gestured helplessly at himself. “Look at me, Nalani. I’m fifty years old, I can barely walk, and I’m about to have my hip replaced.

Not to mention, I’m into BDSM in ways she could never understand.

She’s vanilla, she’s young, she has her whole life ahead of her.

What kind of selfish bastard would I be to drag her into my world? ”

“The kind who loves her enough to let her choose,” Nalani shot back, her voice raising another notch. “You’re not protecting her, Elijah. You’re protecting yourself from the possibility of rejection.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re so terrified she might realize you’re not perfect that you decided to hurt her first.” Nalani’s voice softened. “What about what’s best for you? Don’t you deserve to be happy?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. “Sure, but not at the expense of someone I care about.”

“And what if she feels the same way? What if she’s willing to take the risk, to figure out together whether you’re compatible? Shouldn’t she get a say in that decision?”

Elijah closed his eyes, feeling more tired than he could ever remember. “You don’t understand. If I let her in, if I show her who I am... when she realizes what she’s gotten herself into, it’ll hurt even worse.”

“So instead, you’re going to leave her hanging with no closure?

With no explanation beyond ‘you’re too young for me’?

” Nalani waved the phone at him. “This woman is in agony, Elijah. She trusted you, opened her heart to you, and you responded by disappearing. At the very least, don’t you owe her an honest conversation? ”

“I care about Reagan too much to ruin her life.”

“And what about your life? What about the fact that you’ve been miserable for the past week, not just because of your hip but because you miss her?

” Nalani leaned forward, her expression intense.

“I’ve known you for five years, and I’ve never seen you light up the way you did when you were talking about Vegas.

Don’t you think that’s worth fighting for? ”

Before Elijah could answer, his phone buzzed with another incoming message. Nalani glanced down at the screen, and her expression crumpled.

“What does it say?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

She read silently for a moment, then looked up at him with something that might have been pity.

“Read it,” he said heavily.

Nalani’s voice was quiet as she read Reagan’s latest message: “I thought you were different, but boy was I wrong. Never in my life would I have said you would end up hurting me ten times more than Tristan did.”

The words hit Elijah like a physical blow, stealing what was left of his breath. He’d hurt her worse than the selfish asshole who’d abandoned her in Vegas. He’d become exactly the kind of man he’d wanted to protect her from.

“Elijah...” Nalani started, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“I need to be alone.”

For a moment, he thought she might argue. Then she sighed, setting his phone on the coffee table.

“The food’s in your refrigerator. There’s enough for several days.” She stood, gathering her purse. “I’ll be back on Sunday to check on you.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“Yes, I do. Despite your best efforts to push everyone away, you’re not going through this alone.

” She paused at the edge of the living room, looking back at him.

“And Elijah? When you’re ready to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start fighting for what you want, call me.

I’ll help you figure out how to fix this. ”

After she left, Elijah lay on the couch staring at his phone, Reagan’s devastating words echoing in his head. He thought he was protecting her, but he only ended up making her feel worthless, like other men had.

Maybe Nalani was right. Maybe he owed Reagan more than his cowardly silence.

But first, he had to find the courage to face the possibility that he’d already lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.