Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian novel Chapter 33

“I’ll close on this sometime before the end of July. I think Ana, you, Gia, and I should meet here once that’s done.”

“Do it before. Doesn’t sound like the results of any survey will stop you from buying this place.”

“You’re right. I’ll look at my schedule. When do you think you might have time?”

“For what?”

“The build, dude. The build.”

“Ah. Well, if the Spokani Eden project stays on schedule, maybe early fall?” He shrugs.

“It’s going well?”

“Yeah.” Elliot looks pleased with himself.

He should. It’s an ambitious project, and, once complete, it will be a showcase for his sustainable building methods. He shoves his Seahawks cap back on his head and claps his hands. “T.G.I.F., hotshot. Let’s get back to your place and get our beer on.” Rolling my eyes, I follow my big brother around the side of the house to where my car is parked in the driveway.

“I wonder what our women are doing?” Elliot says on the drive back to Escala.

“Packing up Ana’s things, I hope.” I glance at Elliot. He’s got his fucking foot on my dashboard, and he’s watching the passing scenery as if he doesn’t give a shit.

Lord, I envy him.

“They’re probably eating pizza, drinking too much wine, and talking about us,” he quips.

I hope they’re not talking about us!

“Or they could be watching the game.” He cackles.

“Kate into baseball?”

“Yeah. She likes all sports.”

Of course she does. I’m once more confounded by why she and Ana are friends. Ana doesn’t seem interested in sports at all. Though we both enjoyed watching the Mariners recently. “So, do you think of Kate as your woman, then?” I ask, curious.

“Yeah. For now.”

“It’s not serious between you?”

He shrugs. “She’s cool. We’ll see. She doesn’t hassle me. You know?”

“I don’t know, thank God,” I mutter to myself, and shake my head. This might be the longest “relationship” he’s ever experienced.

“Let’s stop at a bar,” he says.

“No. I’m not drinking and driving.”

“Dude, you’re driving like Dad.”

“Fuck off, asshole.” I put my foot down and the R8 screeches up the on-ramp onto I-5 and we speed toward the city.

“Have you found the prick who totaled your chopper?”

I sigh. “Helicopter, Elliot. And no. It’s really pissing me off.”

“Man, who would want to do that?”

“I don’t know. My team has turned up zilch. I’m waiting for the report from the NTSB. They’re taking their sweet time. I’ve had to up our security. I’ve got two guys watching Ana and Kate’s place tonight.”

“No kidding! Don’t blame you, man. There are some wackos out there.”

I give him a look.

“What? I’m just stating the obvious. I’m glad they’ll be safe,” he says, and I’m beginning to think he might really care for Kavanagh. “What do you want to do for your bachelor party?” he asks as we come off I-5.

“Elliot, I don’t want or need a bachelor party.”

“Man, you up and marry the first girl who’s given you any serious attention. Of course you need a bachelor party.”

I laugh. Dude, you have no idea.

“I thought you’d knocked her up.”

I go cold. “Fuck off, bro. I’m not that careless. Ana’s far too young for kids. We have a life to live before we get into all that shit.”

Elliot laughs. “You with kids. That’ll loosen you up.”

I ignore him. “Have you heard from Mia?”

“She’s chasing cock.”

“What?”

“Kate’s brother. I don’t think he’s interested.”

“I dislike the words cock and Mia in the same sentence.”

“She’s not a kid anymore, hotshot. You know, she’s only slightly younger than Ana and Kate.”

I’d rather not think about that.

“Are we playing pool or watching the game?” He wisely changes the subject.

“Whatever you want, bro, whatever you want.” We pull into the underground garage at Escala while I’m still trying not to think about Mia and Ethan Kavanagh.

Elliot is snoring in front of the TV. He works too damned hard, he plays too damned hard, but he’ll sleep off his overconsumption of beer in the spare bedroom. We’ve had a chill evening: we watched highlights of the Mariners-Angels game (Mariners lost), he thrashed me at Call of Duty, but I won at pool, for a change. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be at Ana’s apartment to help move the rest of her belongings here. It’s taken enough time. I glance at my watch, wondering what she might be doing. My phone buzzes, and it’s as if she’s heard my thoughts.

ANA

I’m packed. Missing you.

Sleep well. No nightmares.

This is not a request.

I’m not there to hold you.

Love you. ?