Chapter 32 Ella

Chapter 32

Ella

On my fifth day home from the rehabilitation center, I'm reclining on my bed, immersing myself in the final chapters of the book Monster . Despite being well aware that the assignments are overdue and that I'll be pursuing my GED once I've fully recovered, I felt compelled to finish it. I've never stopped reading a book before, even when I didn't enjoy it. Nothing feels worse than an incomplete story, the characters dangling in limbo, the plot points collapsing into unknowns. The notion has always brought me anxiety, so I trudge through pages and pages until I reach the end. No matter what.

Luckily, this book is great.

No regrets.

My mother approaches and lingers in the doorway as I lie curled up under an old quilt Grandma Shirley stitched for me years ago—it's my way of feeling closer to her since I'm unable to visit. It was buried in a box in my closet, but after a quick wash, it now feels as good as new. I idly wish I could apply the same simple steps to my own well-being.

"Ella, honey," Mom says, her hand curled around the edge of the door. "Can you meet me in the living room?"

I toss the book beside me on the bed, next to my notebook of unfinished words. I've been working on a letter to Jonah, but my thoughts are jumbled and nothing feels right. Nothing feels good enough to send him. After starting over dozens of times, all I'm left with are wads of crumpled lined paper strewn across the bedsheets and my own disappointment.

When I glance up, my eyes fixate on my mother. She looks blanched, her complexion paler than mine. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing." Her voice shrinks on the word.

Unlike me, she's a terrible liar.

She sweeps her hair back, her fingers quivering. "You're feeling better, yes?"

"Yes. I was moving around without the walker this morning."

Her sigh sounds like relief, which is a valid response, yet it hollows out my chest. Suspicion blossoms between my ribs. "Is this about Kai's father? Are you going to officially introduce him to me as your new boyfriend? Because it's not a big deal. I already told you that."

Darting her eyes away and fidgeting with her hair, Mom clears her throat, neither confirming nor denying. "I'll meet you in the living room in a minute," she says. Then she dashes from the threshold so fast I swear she leaves a cloud of smoke behind.

I rub the heel of my palm to my chest.

My cell phone sits on my nightstand beside the potted crayon and the white stone. I reach for the phone before climbing out of bed, desperately needing a shower but needing to know what my mother is up to more.

Dangling my legs over the side, I smile at the string of messages and GIF wars with Brynn that have brightened my spirits over the last few days, then pull up my recent text to Max.

Me: I miss your lists.

My smile buckles.

I sent it at 4:00 a.m., hours after he left me sated and spent, his tongue working me as long as he could. He brought me to the edge multiple times, then tore me away, reveling in my squirms and protests, knowing he needed to savor the small amount of time I offered. When I broke, I broke hard. After, I wrapped my hand around him as he kneeled over me, caging me in and exploding onto my stomach, his fist in my hair, the other gripping the bed frame as he came apart with a tapered groan.

I let him hold me through the tears.

And then he left.

My heart wilts when I discover that he hasn't responded to my text. It shows Read a minute after I sent it. I can't blame him for it, just like I can't blame my poor heart for caving in on itself at the radio silence that I set in motion.

I plop the phone back down and rise slowly from the mattress. It takes a minute for me to gather my bearings, my balance, and then I move forward on weakened legs. They don't feel like jelly anymore, at least. More like overcooked spaghetti. I refuse to reach for my walker as I pad across the carpet toward my bedroom door. Mom's voice carries down the hall from the living room, inciting a new wave of curiosity.

I'm confident I'll see Ricardo and Kai sitting in my living room, their nerves high as they inform me of the new relationship status.

A sigh leaves me as I press forward.

I'm careful down the short hallway, my hand grazing along the cream-painted wall to keep me steady and upright. I'm smiling again when I reach the end, alight with accomplishment. So far, that was the farthest walk I've taken unassisted.

Mom stands from the love seat across from me, her eyes flaring wide, hands wringing together at her abdomen as she blinks repetitively. "Ella."

"I walked the whole way," I tell her. "I did it."

Tears sluice her eyes. She's happy for me.

But before I can say anything else, a shadow steals my attention, pulling me from the proud moment. My brows draw together and my gaze holds tight with my mother's as she swallows hard and her tears fall freely down chalky cheeks.

A feeling sinks into me.

A jab of awareness. An elbow to my gut.

I turn around slowly when a flash of copper hair catches in my peripheral vision.

And I freeze.

A cloud of disbelief swirls around me as my eyes meet with familiar dark green.

I gasp. Choke. Teeter, sway, and shake.

He stares at me from the edge of the kitchen, heavy emotion glowing in his gaze. His voice hitches as he says with a smile I haven't seen since I was fifteen years old, "Hey, Piglet."

The last thing I hear is my own wailing cry.

Then my mother's arms are around me, catching me as I go down.