Chapter 24 Ella

Chapter 24

Ella

Johnny Mathis is music to my ears.

But the only thing echoing louder is my own moaning as Max brings me to ecstasy against my bedroom door with his fingers between my thighs. The mellow vocals are drowned out, overridden by the feel of Max's tongue in my mouth, his opposite hand sliding up my dress and cupping my breast. I arch into him with a whimper. "Oh God…"

"Mmm." His fingers pump in and out, pace quickening. "Kissing you feels like catching the sun," he rasps, his lips dipping to my neck and trailing wet kisses down to my collarbone.

Not that I've had a ton of experience with romance, but that is, by far, the most romantic shit I've ever heard.

It'll be impossible to top.

I smile through the spasms buzzing down below that are funneling into a spine-tingling release. Max presses his face to the curve of my neck as his speed kicks up and he hits just the right spot, causing another loud moan to fly past my lips.

His free hand whips out to clamp around my mouth when I gracelessly unravel and jerk forward. I pull at his hair, my emerald party dress bunched at the waist. "Mmmphxx," is my muffled version of Max that doesn't quite articulate right with his hand over my mouth.

I get it, though.

His dad is right down the hallway in the living room. And his brother.

My mom, too.

Actually, everyone is here, and they all probably heard me, including Johnny Mathis.

Yep. He knows.

I come down from the euphoric high and collapse into a sated heap against the door. Slowly, Max drags his hand away from my mouth, his fingertips catching on my bee-stung bottom lip. Turns out, I didn't even need to bother with makeup. My lips are kissed raw, mascara smudged beyond repair, and my cheeks are stained with the natural blush only an orgasm can provide.

I stretch a drowsy, idiotic grin and drape the back of my arm across my eyes as I catch my breath.

Max drops his hand from between my legs, looking smug. "I think you're getting louder."

"You're getting really good at that," I mumble, floating somewhere far, far away. Removing my arm, I blink up at him, my punch-drunk smile still in place and matching his. "Your turn?"

His eyebrows arc. "Sure."

As Max reaches to unhook his belt buckle, a knock sounds on the bedroom door behind me.

Crap!

"Max. Get out here and help us with this stupid lasagna," McKay blares from the other side. "It looks like it had a midlife crisis. You can fuck later."

My cheeks burn to heat-stroke level as I rearrange my dress, searching the floor for my underwear. "Coming!" I call back.

"Yeah. We heard." McKay's footsteps stomp away.

Eyes bulging with horror, I step into my underwear and nearly topple over as I do a one-footed hop. "Shit. Mortifying."

Max follows suit, glancing in the mirror to fix the buttons of his dress shirt, smooth down his hair, and relatch his belt. "I told them we had to finish up a project real quick."

"Mm-hmm. Project: ‘Bring Ella to Soul-Fleeing Ecstasy with Nothing But Your Hand' has been well-documented across Juniper Falls. Thanks."

"I tried to shush you."

"We should have waited. There's a dozen people in my house right now."

"You gave me a look, Sunny. And your hair was all pretty against the Christmas tree lights. And that dress…" He pivots toward me, giving me an appreciative sweep with his eyes. "I was toast."

"And then you turned me into melted butter." Grinning, I fluff my hair in the mirror and scrub at the black streaks under my eyes before unlocking the door and hauling it open, while also praying the musk of sex and teenage hormones doesn't seep out.

Max exits beside me, readjusting himself in his pants.

I grin wider.

I'll repay him later.

Music pours from the record player that Brynn! and her dads brought over and "Winter Wonderland" fills the air with snow-sprinkled magic, even though my internal temperature is hovering around the dead of summer in South Florida. Clearing my throat, I tromp across the living room and give a little wave to the party guests scattered across the space.

Everyone stares.

Brynn! pretends to be oblivious as she pops up from the couch in a cherry-red dress patterned with snowflakes. "Merry Christmas!" she beams brightly. She says it like she's bursting through a giant gift-wrapped box, her arms raised high, tinsel raining down on all.

Max gives my hip bone a squeeze before joining McKay in the kitchen to assist with the lasagna, while I mutter a "Merry Christmas" to Brynn! and hope that my dress isn't caught in my underwear. It might be.

Our house is brimful of twinkle lights, savory casseroles, and all my favorite people. A fresh pine tree stands slightly slanted in the main room, taking up half the space. Max helped my mother and I chop it down; then we spent an enchanted Sunday afternoon decorating it with vintage-colored bulbs, silvery tinsel, and nostalgic ornaments we plucked from dusty boxes in the shed.

Almost a month has passed since my first kiss on the bridge with Max, and now it's Christmas Eve. We decided to host a "Friendsmas" to celebrate what feels like a well-earned new beginning for all of us. Honestly, there's a lot to celebrate this year. My relationship status is evolving from "lame and alone, forever and ever" to "tentative girlfriend, even though I loathe titles." I haven't had any notable mental breakdowns recently, Mom and I are on better terms because she's been in a strangely good mood lately, and Max's dad has seemingly crossed over the line into consistent sobriety.

December has been a good month.

Brynn! wraps a shimmer-lotion arm around me and guides me over to the couch, discreetly untucking my dress from my underwear in the back.

Ahh! I knew it.

My cheeks heat, paralleling the warmth in the room from the nearby oven. We both plop down on the giant sofa with Matty and Pete on our right and Mom and Kai's father, Ricardo, on our left. Kai sits across from us on the ottoman, sipping from a tumbler of holiday punch, while the Manning men graciously tend to the potluck feast in the kitchen.

I catch my mom stealing glances at Max, her unspoken approval echoing louder than the clinking of utensils and the subtle hum of conversation in the room. Her gaze trails him as he organizes salad bowls and casserole dishes before she gifts me with a warm, genuine smile. She doesn't say anything. Words unsaid spill between us, and her eyes tell me that she's proud. Relieved. Grateful for Max and our budding relationship that has pulled me from rock bottom, giving me a lifeline.

"My son and I very much appreciate the invitation," Ricardo says, breaking through the quiet moment and leaning back with a cocktail in hand. "It's hard acclimating to a new town."

Mom nods. "We know the feeling all too well. It's nice knowing we're not alone."

"I admire your gumption and strength, Candice. Getting to know you this evening has been eye-opening in the most positive way." When Mom blushes and bites her lip, Ricardo pivots with a timid smile. "Kai told me how kind your daughter has been to him."

"I'm right here, Dad," Kai mumbles through a slurp, his bronzed cheeks pinkening.

Brynn! lifts her foot and gives his ankle a little knock. They share a smile.

"I don't know if I'd say kind ," I add with a shrug. "I more or less aggressively pursued his friendship. Force was involved. He had no other choice but to submit."

Brynn! giggles. "That's what I did with you, Ella. And now look at all of us!" She sighs dreamily. "One big happy family."

I lean over to whisper in her ear with a grin, "Sisters one day, perhaps?"

Her face falls.

She recovers quickly, bobbing her head up and down and plastering on a smile. "Yep."

Hmm.

Matty pipes up beside us, hoarding an entire tray of Christmas cookies in his lap. He says through a crumbly bite, "Whoever made these cookies is my new best friend. We'll be inseparable."

"We have a spare room at the house," Pete chimes in.

"The offer is on the table."

"As long as cookies are on the table."

Kai lifts a hand then brushes his bangs aside. "Um, thanks. I'll pass on the room and board, but I'm happy to make you cookies whenever."

The cookies actually do look fantastic. Every one of them is intricately designed with a different holiday theme, from snowmen to reindeer, looking like they came straight from a prestigious bakery. The guy has talent.

I reach across two laps to snag a candy cane cookie, my eyes popping when I take a bite. "Holy shit. These are crazy good."

"Language, Ella," Mom scolds.

"Holy barnacles. These are crazy good."

"Barnacles are horrific," Matty says, visibly shuddering.

"He has trypophobia," Pete says.

I blink. "Holy frijoles. These are crazy good."

Everyone seems satisfied. Mom and Ricardo continue conversing, inching closer together on the couch with every giant sip of rum-infused punch as their hands wave with extra gusto and the laughter loudens. Matty and Pete are still on the topic of trypophobia, so I decide to leave the adults, grabbing Brynn! and Kai by the wrists and dragging them away from the new debate about why lotus pods are more distressing to look at than clusters of insect eggs.

Kai looks oddly tipsy as we sneak out the front door to mingle on the porch. I narrow my eyes at him, the crisp December air tamed only by the bright sun. "What are you drinking?"

"Punch," he says.

"More specific."

"Punchy punch."

Brynn! gasps. "You rascal! Can I have some?" He hands her the tumbler with a cooky grin and she chugs it down.

I watch them for a few seconds, taking in their dynamic. They look comfortable with each other. Maybe a little too comfortable, considering McKay is on the other side of the white siding. Brynn!'s reaction to my "sisters" comment earlier swirls through my mind and I wonder if there's trouble in paradise.

I blurt out my suspicions, never needing alcohol to loosen my tongue. "How are things with McKay?"

A swallow gets caught in Brynn!'s throat and she forces it down. "What? Why?"

"Just curious. You two have seemed distant lately."

"Oh. Well…things have been a little tense. We've been arguing a lot more, and he seems angry all the time. Besides, I'll be heading to college soon, so I'm not sure where that's going to leave us." Nibbling her ruby-red lip, she averts her gaze and stares down at the porch. "I'm moving to Florida in June. I'll be staying with my aunt while I get acclimated."

"Oh, wow. You were accepted?"

She nods, unable to hold back a smile. "Florida State."

"That's amazing. Congratulations," I tell her, giving her a celebratory nudge with my elbow. "McKay doesn't want to go with you and try to make it work?"

She shrugs. "I don't think so. He wants to stay here with Max."

"Really?"

"I guess. He said they made a pact when they were kids. They're going to travel together. See the world."

This is news to me. Max doesn't really talk about the future, and I suppose that warrants our own discussion. I have no desire to stay in Tennessee, but leaving Max behind sounds terrible. Maybe he'll come with me. McKay can look after their father while he figures out his own path in life.

Kai leans back against the porch rail beside Brynn! and takes back the tumbler, swallowing down the last few sips. "My father wants me to pursue medicine. He's a dermatologist."

"Is that what you want to do?" I ask.

"Nope. I want to be an artist," he says. "Dad says the term ‘artist' doesn't exist unless it's paired with ‘struggling,' so he's trying to pivot me in a more favorable direction. Favorable for him, anyway." His nose wrinkles with disappointment. "What about you, Ella?"

"I don't really know anymore," I admit, my chest feeling heavier. "My dream was always to move to Michigan and work on a horse farm one day. Maybe even buy it…if I could ever afford to. Lots of acreage, horses that become family, and the prettiest sunrises and sunsets lighting up the stables."

They both smile at me, but I can't manage a smile back.

The vision feels shaky, filling me with confusion. It's strange to think that a lifelong dream, carefully stitched together piece by piece with heart-laced strings and soulful knots, could untangle so easily. Unraveled by a boy and his magical kisses and strong arms. A bridge, a playlist, and a forever dance.

The Michigan dream is hard to catch when my arms are so full of something else.

And it feels too soon to be thinking like that, but I can't escape the overwhelming feeling that Max is becoming a new dream—one I never expected but can't seem to ignore.

The door creaks open a minute later, revealing McKay. A scowl paints his face when he glances at Brynn! and Kai standing so close together against the rail, their hips touching. Kai pulls up and sweeps a hand through his hair.

"Food is ready," McKay mumbles before glancing at me. "Max was looking for you."

I clear my throat. "Great. I'll be there in a minute."

He sends us a terse nod, shoots a glare in Brynn!'s direction, then disappears back inside the house. Brynn! doesn't say anything as she moves past me, her heels clacking against the porch and her bubble-gum smile all chewed up.

I watch her shuffle into the house, her dream of settling down with McKay now morphing into Florida coastlines and a promising new career…while my own dreams hang in the balance.

***

After dinner, we open grab-bag gifts by the light of the Christmas tree and an assortment of red-and-green candlesticks. Our bellies are full of cookies and lasagna and the room is laughter-lit and song-filled. I'm sitting cross-legged near the tree, fiddling with the fringe on the new jade scarf I received in the exchange.

Max is beside me, his legs sprawled out as he leans back on his palms. "I got you something," he says softly so only I can hear him.

"You did?"

"Yep. I want to give it to you in private."

My eyes flare and my cheeks heat. "Is it another finger trick?"

He snorts a laugh. "I'm saving that for later."

Grinning, I gather my hair and drape it over one shoulder. We haven't had sex yet. I'm still acclimating to the idea of being someone's girlfriend after years of building anti-romance walls made of stone, steel, and bitter bricks. Every time we approach that heart-stopping line, I pump the brakes, overthinking everything. It's ridiculous because we're both eighteen and I know he's ready. I think I'm ready, too, but my bone-deep fears always sneak inside me the moment I'm about to give in. I guess that's what happens when you spend years conditioning yourself to run away from emotional connection and intimacy. You find it's not a switch you can just flip back on when the longing hits.

Luckily, Max is patient.

I pull myself up from the floor and make a clean break from the living room while everyone else is absorbed in conversation and buzzed on punch. Max follows, his hand gently pressed to the small of my back, and we swerve into my bedroom. I watch as he bends down and draws something out from underneath the bed.

"What's that?" I wonder, eyeing the neatly packaged gift. Silvery paper twinkles under the ceiling light, topped with a big red bow.

"Your present."

"I only got you a gift card to Spoon," I say miserably, which is a local coffee shop in town. It was for fifty dollars, at least. Coffee and scones to last an entire month if used wisely.

He smiles, handing me the gift. "I love the gift card. It's an excuse to take you out for coffee."

"You caught on to my ulterior motives, huh?" Sighing, I reach for the gift and lightly tinker with the bow. "This is too much, Max."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

"I can tell it's too much. And you wrap better than me."

"Yes."

Chuckling, I take a seat on the edge of my bed and begin to peel back the wrapping paper. Max sits beside me and my eyes water. It's true that I don't know what it is yet, but something tells me it's going to cause my heart to dribble out of me and leave a gooey puddle at my feet.

It's probably going to make me fall head over heels in love with him.

Max wrings his hands together as he watches my fingers work. I unwrap slowly because his wrapping job is too precious to ruin. When the tape is undone, I take a deep breath, pause, and then pull open all four sides.

A leather-bound book stares back at me.

I blink a few times.

Stare at it.

Hold my breath.

My fingertips glide along the smooth, coffee-brown texture as my heart does exactly what I expected it to do—it melts.

"Open it," he says softly, our shoulders pressed together.

I spare him a quick glance through dampening lashes, then open the book. The title page shines back at me and my tears fall like rain.

Eeyore's Happy Ending.

I cup a hand over my mouth to hold in the sob.

Max's arm encircles me as he inches closer. "I'm not an expert bookbinder like you, Sunny. But I tried."

"Oh, my God." My hands are violently shaking as I peel back pages and pages of cream and ink. "Max…"

"Kai helped me with the drawings," he says, showcasing the intricate sketches designed with colored pencils. "It's our story."

As I thumb through pages etched with deep woods and vibrant colors, the story comes to life, taking me through a journey of an often-overlooked donkey finding happiness with a fellow reclusive donkey in the Hundred Acre Wood. Their favorite spot is a little clearing where they watch orange sunsets and enchanted meteor showers together. Images detail them skipping stones across the lake while they dance to sun-charged playlists and toss sticks over their favorite bridge, triggering a quick-blooming friendship. As days turn into months, their bond deepens and they find solace in each other's company, their tails securely fastened and swishing happily. Our defining moments are sprinkled throughout the ivory pages, sending my heartbeats into a tailspin.

A childhood park date with an orange flower caught between the donkey's teeth.

Sitting side by side at a bonfire years later.

Dancing together at the Fall Fling.

Watching the Taurid meteor shower in a secluded field.

Playing Pooh sticks on the bridge until the night is sealed with a sweet kiss.

And when I turn to the final page, a new picture stares back at me. A moment yet to come.

A future.

We're sitting beside a beautiful white horse, watching the sky above us sparkle with pretty green lights. "The End" is scribbled in loopy letters underneath the picture.

I break down and cry, covering my face with both hands as my entire body shakes with soul-shattering tremors.

"Don't cry, Sunny," Max whispers, pulling me closer. "Please don't cry."

I feel his lips graze my temple, my hair, my tearstained cheek. Words are elusive. Words are utterly pointless in a moment like this because there are no words that can describe how I'm feeling.

I wrap both arms around him and tackle him to the bed, crying against the crook of his neck as he holds me to his chest and strokes my hair. I can hardly catch my breath as I murmur, "Thank you. That was so beautiful."

"It wasn't lame and cheesy?"

I shake my head. "It was perfect. You're perfect. I don't deserve you."

He kisses the top of my head, still smoothing back my hair. "You deserve so much more than you know."

Sniffling, I scoot off him and curl up against his side, my finger drawing lazy designs across his chest, when a light tapping at the door startles us from the moment. I shoot up in bed and scrub the tears off my face while swatting down my mess of hair.

Mr. Manning pokes his head inside. "You kids all right?"

"We're fine, Dad," Max says, clearing his throat. "Be out in a minute."

"Okay. Well, the camping gear is in the truck. We should try to get there before dark," he tells us, leaning on his cane as his eyes stare off over our heads. "You know your mother hates putting the tents up in the dark."

I stiffen beside Max, my hands squeezing together as my heart thumps.

Mr. Manning must have gotten into the spiked punch.

Max stands, glancing at me before looking back at his father. "Dad?"

He doesn't respond right away, gazing out through the far window with a pinched brow. Finally, he blinks a few times and returns his attention to Max. "Dessert is ready. Blueberry pie." Sending us both a quick nod and a smile, he slowly pivots around and disappears from the doorway.

I watch Max's fists ball at his sides, the planks of his back rippling with tension. I wait for him to acknowledge the odd interaction, but he doesn't. He just swallows and glances my way. "Pie?"

Nodding slowly, I force a smile. "Pie sounds great."

Letting out a long breath, Max ducks his chin to his chest and walks out of the room.

My eyes close as a sad feeling floats across my heart like a rain cloud. But I don't have time to wallow in it because I'm jolting in place when Brynn!'s voice startles me.

"Dessert time," she says, peeking around the door. "Are you okay?"

Her tone is lacking its usual enthusiasm, the words void of exclamation points. "I'm okay. Are you?" As I glance at her from the bed, I swear there are tears in her eyes. Rims of red and smudged mascara.

She bobs her head with extra force. "Sure! Of course. I'm excited for dessert." The smile is also strained as she folds her hands together. "Oh, hey…you should come to Morrison's New Year's Eve party with us," she says. "It's going to be a lot of fun. Live music, fireworks, catered food."

"Oh, hmm. Max and I haven't discussed plans yet." I absently pick at the stitching on the bedcover. "I'll let you know."

"I'm sure Max will go. We can dress up and ring in the new year in style!" She infuses animation into her voice, though it still falls flat. "I have the perfect outfit. We can get ready together. I–I think I need a distraction from all these big decisions."

"College, you mean?"

She bites her lip. "Something like that."

I stand from the bed with a nod, knowing what it's like to need a distraction. A friend. An escape from life's bitter throwdowns. Smoothing down my dress and hair, I lift my chin and send her an agreeable smile. "Okay, sure. It sounds like fun," I concede. "Count us in."

"Really?" she beams.

A subtle unease settles in, a voice inside my head whispering to take it back and choose a quiet night at home with Max.

But I don't listen.

I push aside the feeling and widen my smile. "Yeah," I tell her. "We'll be there."

Her face lights up when I join her in the hallway and we link arms, sharing a tender look before heading to the kitchen for blueberry pie.

I say yes.

I agree to go to the party.

And for the strangest reason, I can't help but feel like I just agreed to a goodbye.