Chapter 10: The Distraction

Elliott sat on his cot, legs crossed, watching as Gwen flipped through the worn pages of a book she had brought him.

It had been a week since his first visit to the courtyard, and Gwen had kept her promise.

She had started bringing him books.

At first, she had tried letting him read on his own, but Elliott’s hands had hesitated over the pages. It wasn’t that he couldn’t read—he could—but something about sitting alone in his room, absorbing the words in silence, felt too much like the past.

So Gwen had offered a different solution.

“I’ll read to you,” she had said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “That way, you don’t have to do all the work.”

Elliott had hesitated at first, but in the end, he had agreed.

Now, he wasn’t sure if that had been a mistake.

Because he was barely listening to the book.

Gwen sat beside him, leaning comfortably against the wall, her voice steady and soft as she read aloud. Her lips moved fluidly over each word, her tone shifting slightly depending on the scene, her voice carrying just enough warmth to make the gray walls feel a little less suffocating.

And Elliott—he was watching her instead of paying attention to the story.

It had started small at first.

A glance at the curve of her lips as she spoke. A flicker of interest at the way her auburn braid rested against her shoulder, a few loose strands escaping to frame her face.

But then, he started noticing more.

The way she would tilt her head slightly when she was fully absorbed in a passage. The way her eyelashes fluttered when she looked down, completely unaware of how much attention he was paying to her instead of the words on the page.

She was beautiful.

And that realization terrified him.

Elliott forced himself to look at the book in her hands, trying to refocus, but the words blurred together. His mind refused to process them.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He had spent years training himself not to care. Not to let anyone get close.

But Gwen was making that difficult.

He clenched his fists in his lap, trying to keep his expression neutral.

He couldn’t let this happen.

Not again.

Not after Lily.

Not after Maggie.

Gwen was too close already.

She had forced her way into his life with her kindness, her patience, and her sharp, knowing eyes that saw through him in ways no one else ever had.

And if he let himself care about her…

She would end up dead.

His father had made that clear.

But even as the warning echoed in his mind, even as he reminded himself over and over again that Gwen was just another person who would disappear if he let his guard down, he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at her.

From noticing her.

And that—more than anything—was dangerous.

“Elliott?”

His breath hitched.

Gwen had stopped reading.

She was watching him now, her green eyes curious, her expression somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Are you even listening?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Elliott stiffened, his fingers tightening slightly against his palm.

He quickly lifted his hands and signed, “Of course.”

Gwen smirked. “Oh, really? Then what just happened?”

Elliott’s mind went blank.

Gwen knew.

She could see it.

A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. “You weren’t listening.”

Elliott exhaled sharply through his nose and signed, “The book is boring.”

Gwen laughed, a soft, warm sound that made his chest tighten. “Sure it is.” She nudged him lightly with her elbow, her grin widening. “Or maybe I’m just more interesting than the book.”

Elliott’s body tensed.

Because she was right.

And that was the problem.

He quickly turned away, reaching for the book in her hands and flipping to a random page, signing quickly, “Keep reading.”

Gwen chuckled but didn’t push. “Alright, alright,” she said, settling back against the wall. “But next time, try to at least pretend you’re paying attention.”

Elliott gave a small nod, keeping his eyes on the page, even as his mind stayed on her.

He was slipping.

And he didn’t know how to stop it.

---

Gwen kept reading, but Elliott wasn’t listening.

She knew it.

She could feel it.

At first, she had brushed it off, thinking maybe he was just lost in thought. But the longer she read, the more she noticed the way his eyes kept flicking away from the book—not to something in the room, not even to his hands as he usually did when he was thinking.

He was looking at her.

Again.

She stopped mid-sentence, letting the words die on her lips.

Elliott didn’t even notice.

His gaze was still lingering—on her lips, on her hair, on something that had absolutely nothing to do with the book.

Her heart did an unexpected, subtle flip.

She tilted her head slightly, watching him with quiet amusement. He hadn’t realized yet.

So, she waited.

And when his sharp blue eyes finally flicked back to hers, only to widen slightly in realization that she wasn’t reading anymore, she smirked.

“Okay,” she said, snapping the book shut, “what’s going on with you?”

Elliott blinked. Then, as if trying to cover up his distraction, he signed quickly, “Keep reading.”

“Nope,” she said easily, tucking the book into her lap. “Not until you tell me what’s up.”

Elliott frowned, his fingers twitching slightly. “Nothing.”

Gwen let out a slow, knowing hum. “Nothing, huh? You sure?”

His eyes flicked away.

Oh, he’s flustered.

That realization sent a small jolt of satisfaction through her.

She didn’t push him, though. Instead, she rested her elbow on her knee and propped her chin on her hand. “Alright, fine,” she said. “Let’s try something different. Since you clearly don’t care about the book, tell me something you do like.”

Elliott hesitated.

His fingers flexed slightly before he lifted his hands. “Books are fine.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but you’re not actually into this one.”

He exhaled slowly, shifting slightly where he sat.

There was something thoughtful in his expression now, something distant. Like she had just nudged a memory loose.

Then, after a long pause, he signed, “Flowers.”

That caught her off guard. “Flowers?”

He nodded. “Purple hyacinths.”

A name. A specific kind.

Gwen leaned forward slightly, intrigued. “Why those?”

Elliott’s hands hesitated in his lap, his lips pressing together briefly before he signed, “They were my mother’s favorite.”

Something in his face changed as he said it.

Softer. Warmer.

Like a brief flicker of light in the cold, quiet storm that always seemed to linger around him.

Gwen felt it immediately.

That pull.

She had felt it before—subtle, unspoken, always hovering in the air between them whenever he let his guard down for even a second.

But this time, it was stronger.

It tugged at something deep inside her, something that made her chest feel lighter, something that made her want to keep him talking, keep him looking at her the way he just had.

She had seen him serious. She had seen him closed off.

But when he talked about those flowers—when he thought about them—there was something else there.

And it made her want to know more.

“Purple hyacinths,” she repeated softly, rolling the name over her tongue. “I don’t think I’ve seen one before.”

Elliott tilted his head slightly, as if surprised by that.

Then, lifting his hands again, he signed, “They mean regret.”

That caught her by surprise.

“Regret?” she echoed.

He nodded.

Gwen’s fingers curled slightly against the book in her lap, her heart squeezing at the thought.

Was that why he had chosen those flowers? Because they reminded him of something he lost?

Because they meant something he couldn’t say out loud?