Chapter 35 Ella

Chapter 35

Ella

I felt it when I woke up this morning.

That weird intuition that sometimes pokes at you with no logic to back it up. A rock plopping into the pit of your stomach. A knobby finger jabbing at your chest.

Saying yes to an innocent New Year's Eve party invitation.

I brushed it off as residual stress and anxiety. After all, Max never climbed through my window the night before—likely due to the fact that I threw his love confession back in his face—so my dreams were filled with ghosts and black thoughts. Not to mention, it's also supposed to thunderstorm today. Storms always make me anxious.

Trying to counter the sinking feeling, I call Brynn over for some girl-bonding time. We sit cross-legged on my bed, facing each other, while I fill her in on Jonah's shocking return and watch tears stream down her pretty cheeks. We hug and cry as I binge a tray of brownies she brought over, courtesy of her fathers. I wish sugar had the healing powers her dads insist it has, but my heart still feels irrevocably wounded.

I devour five brownies, just in case.

After she leaves, the sky swirls with gray and silver as I step outside and look up. My itch to delve back into bookbinding has been clawing at me over the past few days, and I'm craving the therapeutic outlet. Our backyard is laden with colorful wildflowers—lavender, pink, and baby blue. I'm going to pluck a few handfuls, press them between the pages of an old book, then use them in my next project.

It's a slow, tedious walk to the backyard, my body sore from reacclimating. I've been doing exercises on the days I don't have physical therapy, and that paired with my late-night activities with Max, I'm feeling the burn.

I take a few moments to sit in the grass before the rain comes, stretching out my legs, the tendons straining. Then I gather up a collection of purple and light-blue flowers and tuck them in my palm. Satisfied with my haul, I pull myself up and head back toward the door, eager to start working.

I'm walking along the side of the house with a fistful of flowers when a figure catches my eye from across the street.

Everything blurs.

Icy fingers clamp around my heart.

A blizzard races down my spine.

McKay.

He's stalking toward me from his driveway, glancing once over his shoulder before beelining toward my house. Thanks to him, I'm not exactly limber these days, so my quick escape is more akin to a turtle trying to outrun a hare.

I've hardly had a chance to move when he calls out to me. "Ella, wait. I just want to talk to you."

I freeze in place.

Mom went back to work today after I promised her I'd be fine on my own. Jonah is on his way home from Charlotte, having left to grab the rest of his belongings so he can officially move back in. Max is still at school.

If McKay intends to hurt me, it wouldn't be hard, even if I do manage to lock myself inside the house. My heart beats swiftly, my stomach pitching with telltale fear. I knew this moment would come. He can't hide away forever.

I curl my fingers around the handful of green stems and try to center my breathing. "Leave me alone. I'll call the police." My cell phone is inside but he doesn't know that.

"Please, give me a chance to explain."

My eyes pop as he jogs the rest of the way over to me. "Explain?" I scoff with astoundment. He's too close. Only a few feet away from me now. Panic crawls through me, dozens of fire ants biting at my insides.

"I need to talk to you," he says, looking around, assessing the quiet street. It's midday on a Tuesday; most adults are at work, kids are in classes. He should be in class, too. "Please."

The flowers flutter from my clammy hand.

My whole body erupts with tremors.

"You need to leave," I demand. "Right now. Don't come near me again."

His shoulder-length hair catches on a storm-charged wind that whips through, sashaying among the treetops. He looks gaunter, sickly. The weight of his secret glows heavily in his eyes. Eyes that are rimmed with dark, hollow circles. Once-bronzed skin is now chalky and bloodless as he scratches at his cheek, fidgeting on both feet. "I was drunk. Out of my head. I hardly remember it happening."

My bottom lip wobbles. "I can jog your memory."

He presses his lips into a flat line.

"First, you tried to kiss me," I tell him. "When I resisted, completely disgusted, you grabbed me, hurt me, bruised me, then tried to rape me."

"That's an exaggeration."

"Don't gaslight me," I hiss back, anger and terror tunneling out my chest. "You pried my legs apart. Hiked up my dress and pulled your zipper down. Pinned me to the ground. And when I fought back, you fought harder. You yanked me toward the edge of the bluffs and then you let me fall. You almost killed me."

"It was an accident."

"You could have stopped it. You were right there, close enough to pull me back." Hot tears blanket my eyes, but I force them back. "You were jealous that your brother had something special. You were angry that you had no direction in life. You took it out on me."

"I didn't—"

"You left me for dead!" I screech.

McKay shoots forward, getting right in my face. "Be quiet," he grits through his teeth. "Someone will hear you."

Bitter memories flash across my mind—of his hand lashing out and covering my mouth, holding in my cries, my screams. Before I can shove him or slam my knuckles at his teeth, he jumps back, shaking his head.

"Sorry, sorry…" he tries, holding both hands up, palms forward. Sweat gleams on his forehead as raindrops sprinkle down from the clouds. "I'm just…I'm freaking the fuck out. I can't go to jail. I can't . It was a mistake, Ella…an awful, horrible mistake that I wish I could take back. I'd do it all differently, I swear."

I step away from him, almost stumbling when I trip over hedges. "I trusted you."

"I know… God, I know. I'm so damn sorry. You have to believe me, that's not who I am. I drank too much, got carried away, and then I panicked when I thought you were going to run off and tell somebody. I didn't push you. I just…"

"You just tried to rape me," I provide. "Then you watched as I plummeted to a likely death and forgot to call for help."

He grips his hair, swinging his head back and forth as his teeth gnash together. "I thought you were dead."

"You hoped I was."

"I was fucking wasted, Ella! I don't even remember how I got home. Think I slept it off in my truck in some parking lot, then I woke up the next morning hardly remembering what had happened."

"Well, I didn't wake up for four weeks. Four weeks!" I seethe, tears sneaking through and pouring down my cheeks. My face is hot, furious. "Nothing you say is going to fix this."

"I just…I need you to keep quiet. I'm begging you not to tell anyone." He steps closer, eyes glinting with ice and fire, arms shaking at his sides. "I'll do anything. Anything you want."

"I don't want anything from you."

"There has to be something." He reaches his hand out tentatively, but I slap it away like it's a deadly weapon. "You haven't gone to the police yet, and there's a reason for that. All I'm asking is that you hold on to that reason, whatever it is. I think you know, deep down, that I'm not a monster. I'm human. I royally fucked up and I promise I'm suffering the consequences. The guilt is killing me."

"The fear is killing you," I correct, putting more space between us. "The fear of getting caught."

"No. It's more than that. I regret every second of that night." His throat works through a hard swallow as he glances down at his feet, then back up at me. "Please…keep this between us. If you wanted to rat me out, you would have already. You know I don't deserve to go to prison."

I stare at him, feeling numb. Feeling beaten down and torn. "Let me make something perfectly clear," I bite out, my balance unsteady as I try not to fall. "I'm not protecting you. I'm protecting Max. I'm protecting that amazing, beautiful, incredible man, who is more of a man than you will ever be." I jab a finger at him, my skin flushed hot, breathing erratic. "Shame on you for taking something precious away from him when all he ever did was love you. And you did, McKay. You stole from him. You succeeded tenfold because you ruined me. The girl he knew is long gone." I close my eyes through the pain, more tears leaking out. "And he doesn't even know why."

His blue eyes shimmer as the rainfall swells. Fat droplets tumble down, splashing across his hair and skin. Blinking the tears away, he swipes a hand down his face, forehead to chin, looking genuinely devastated. "I'm so sorry," he chokes out. "I am. Max has been my best friend from the moment my eyes opened, and the last thing I ever want to do is cause him pain. You two can fix this. You can—"

"Every time I look at him, I see you ." My breath catches on a whimper as my teeth chatter hopelessly. "I've read hundreds and hundreds of books in my lifetime and nothing— nothing —could ever paint a tragedy like the one I'm living."

His face falls. His shoulders sag.

Rain drenches us in the sky's cold tears.

McKay closes his eyes and stares down at the damp grass, blowing out a long breath as he digests my words. A heavy moment trudges by before he whispers, "Okay." Another beat passes. "Turn me in."

"I—" My words fall off when the statement fully registers. I blink at him, my lips parting on a startled breath. "What?"

"Turn me in," he repeats, nodding slowly, coming to terms with his plea. "Do it. It's the right thing."

I'm stunned silent.

"Tell Max everything," he continues. "Talk to him first. He should hear it from you. And then go to the cops and turn me in. Or I'll do it. I will. Just…talk to Max first."

Thunder booms above us, crackling in the sky. My lips tremble from the chill, from indecision, from absolute misery. I don't know what to do.

I don't know what to do.

I tent my hands over my face, squeezing my eyes shut as mourning rakes through me.

"I'm sorry, Ella. For everything."

When I peel my eyes open, McKay is already moving away, stepping backward. His face crumbles before he swivels around and runs full speed in the other direction, heading toward his house. I watch him go, watch him cross the street, then disappear through his front door.

I tip my face to the sky and let the rain pelt me. I beg it for answers. I pray for direction.

McKay should pay for what he did to me.

But…

The one who will pay the ultimate price…is Max.

Some secrets are worth keeping. Some truths are better left buried.

And ultimately, some tragedies are worth living in order to protect the ones you love.

After only just getting Jonah back, I can't bear to lose someone else.

Minutes pass as I stand along the side of my house with rain-soaked hair and wildflowers sprinkled at my feet. I stand there long enough to see Max's truck pull in the driveway, tires splashing up rainwater puddles. There's a lump in my throat as I watch him hop out of the truck and stalk through the grass with his backpack slung over one shoulder before he enters the house.

I could tell him. I could go over there right now and confess everything.

But I don't.

I head inside my house instead.

Slamming the door behind me, I growl my pain into the quiet void as I tug at my hair and crouch down, my weight too heavy to bear. I take a few minutes to calm myself, collect my strength, and then I pull up to unsteady feet and make my way to my bedroom to decompress.

I stand in the center of the room and stare out the rain-glazed window, listening as the storm brews on the other side of the glass.

Seconds pass until I feel a presence behind me.

I jump in place, a yelp dislodging from my throat when my bedroom door slams shut.

McKay?

But when I whip around, my eyes land on Jonah leaning back against the doorframe, his every muscle taut and flexing. My chest fizzes, thrumming with relief when recognition settles in. I press a hand over my heart to calm the beats. "What are you doing here? I–I thought you wouldn't be home until dinnertime." I glance down at his hand clamped around a screwdriver.

I frown, confused.

His jaw is tight like a steel trap, green eyes wild and feral. "I got back early." Jonah traipses across the room, sits down on my bed, and sets the screwdriver beside him on my nightstand.

"What's that for?" I wonder, squeezing the front of my shirt, still trying to soothe my heartbeats.

"Fixing something for Mom," he says.

Darkness lurks within his tone. His eyes are pinned on me, burning hot. I feel the heat from a few feet away. Swallowing, I clench my jaw. "Did you need something?" I ask casually, despite the dread kissing the back of my neck.

"Tell me more about the fall." His words from the lake echo back at me, this time swirling with something sinister.

It doesn't take me long to figure it out.

My heart drops out of me. It plummets to the ugly beige carpeting.

I stare at him, unblinking, anxiety carving out my chest. "What…what did you hear?"

He heard us. He heard me talking to McKay outside the house.

He knows.

"I heard enough."

I crack on my inhale. "Jonah…"

"I need to hear it again," he says, tone steady but menacing. "Did he do all that to you?"

All I do is shake my head.

"Say it, Ella. Tell me."

My eyelids slam shut, my throat burning. "Jonah, please."

"Did he try to rape you? Attack you? Put you in a goddamn coma for a month?" Shadows curl around him. His eyes are like the devil's, his body flickering with suppressed fury. "Did he leave my little sister for dead at the bottom of a fucking cliff ?"

I can't lie to him. I can't lie anymore.

He already knows.

I cover my face with both palms and nod, breaking apart as the truth finally spills free and slices every piece of me on the way out. "Yes."

Jonah jolts upright from the bed and stalks toward me, looking absolutely nothing like the brother I know. He looks like…

A monster.

I cry out when he grabs my cheeks between his hands and slams a hard kiss to my hairline.

When he pulls back, his voice is a terrifying kind of even as he says, "I swore I'd protect you, Piglet. And I'll be damned if I don't keep my word."

Then he whirls around and storms out of my bedroom, closing the door behind him. Shock renders me paralyzed for a beat before deadly realization sinks in, almost stopping my heart. "Jonah!" I screech, moving as fast as I can. I hear the front door bang shut. Fear grips me like a vise.

I twist the doorknob and yank.

My pulse stutters. It doesn't budge.

I pull and tug with all my strength, but I know it won't open.

It's locked.

My eyes quickly pan to the screwdriver, then back to the door as awareness sets in. He switched the doorknob around after he heard me talking to McKay. The lock is on the opposite side.

He trapped me in my bedroom so he could exact revenge.

"No!" I shriek, pounding my fists to the door, knowing it's fruitless. " Jonah !"

Hot tears stream down my face as I pivot back around toward the window and start banging on the pane when I see him marching across the street, his gait lethal. I try to pull the window open, but it's stuck. It won't budge, and my arms are too weak.

No.

I glance at the truck in the driveway, and I almost buckle.

Max.

They're twins. Jonah doesn't know they're twins.

He's going to attack the wrong man.

A sickly, beastly feeling washes over me. A feeling like…

Maybe Jonah is a killer, after all.

It's poison in my veins. Black tar oozing through my bloodstream. It's a thousand times more agonizing than the feeling that slithered through me when I plummeted thirty feet to the earth and landed hard, my bones breaking, heart shriveling, everything blurring to black.

I scream at the top of my lungs, slamming both palms to the window as I watch Jonah approach their doorstep.

Thinking fast, I scamper to the other side of the room, reach under my bed for the baseball bat, then race back to the window and smash it against the pane with all my might. Glass shatters. I move on instinct, uncaring of my injuries, indifferent to the way my still-weak legs resist the climb.

I haul myself out, shards of broken glass scraping my skin as I tumble out the window and collapse in the wet grass. Lightning flashes across a graphite sky. Thunder rolls but no louder than the soul-deep scream I release into the storm.

I glance up.

Jonah is already inside.

"Jonah! Jonah!" I shout, pulling myself up on shaky legs and racing forward. "No, no! They're twins! They're twins !"

I make it across the street. Rocks and rubble try to trip me. I see red, I see neon, I see stars across my eyes as my heart pounds in time with thunder.

I'm slipping across their front lawn, trying to keep from falling, when a shot rings out.

A gunshot.

I freeze in place, jerked back by an invisible force. My eyes widen into tearful, panicked saucers. I scream again as buckshot turns my insides to ashes.

I don't even remember heaving myself through their front door. I don't remember how I got there, shaking and screaming in their living room, staring down a blood-soaked body, unable to tell who is sprawled out at my feet.

Max, the love of my life.

Or McKay.

I can't remember what he was wearing. I can't remember anything.

I hardly notice Jonah standing there, his chest heaving, pistol aimed at the man writhing on the floor. The man with blood spurting from a gaping chest wound. Puddles of red pool beneath him. My screams are echoes, unable to penetrate the terror, the despair, the shock, as I drop to my knees beside him and press both palms over the hole in his chest.

I look up when another figure appears.

And that, I know, I will always remember.

I'll never forget the look on his face when he comes to a dead stop, letting out a howl of pain when he finds his brother bleeding out on the living room floor.