Chapter 41 Ella

Chapter 41

Ella

A scorching-hot June shifts into an even hotter July, and my mother finally tells me that Grandma Shirley passed away in the weeks prior.

"You sure you don't want me to go with you?" Brynn asks, zooming by me in a streak of pink and baby blue as she hunts down her sandals. "I can reschedule with Kai. It's just a picnic."

A smile tips my mouth. "Nobody turns down a picnic, Brynn. Nobody."

She dismisses my claim with a beaming grin, slicing a hand through the air. "It's not a problem. The great thing about Kai is that he's extremely adaptable."

My lips purse.

You kind of have to be in this cursed town that's been privy to multiple tragedies in the span of a few months.

I should rephrase: You kind of have to be in this town that's been privy to multiple tragedies in the span of a few months, thanks to the cursed Ella Sunbury.

"He made a charcuterie board," I remind my friend as she gives her high ponytail a tug. "You don't turn your back on a complex array of fine cheese spreads on your first official date."

"I do like cheese."

"Cheese wins. Every time."

Brynn pauses, leveling me with a sympathetic stare. "I'll have my ringer on full blast. Please call or text if you need anything. I'm so sorry about your grams."

We hug each other as Kai pulls up in his dad's Volkswagen and races to the passenger side door to open it for Brynn. I smile and send her off, just as he's traipsing up the walkway. "Have fun," I tell her with a wave.

"I will!" she calls back. "Cheese!"

Fifteen minutes later, I'm pulling into our driveway.

Brynn let me borrow her car to make the few-mile drive over to the house. It was my first time behind the wheel in ages after my doctor finally gave me the green light, and it felt good to have a semblance of control over something in my life. All of my scans and tests have come back clear with no permanent brain damage, no vision impairments, and no issues with motor functions. Next, I'll be working toward my GED, courtesy of missing nearly six months of my senior year.

Gathering my courage, I climb out and meet Mom in the living room as she shares a mug of tea with Ricardo on the couch. His arm is draped around her shoulders and my mother is snuggled up against his chest, both hands cupping the mug.

I'm glad she has someone after I left her in the shadows with all these ghosts.

She glances up at me when I enter. "Ella."

"Hey." I set my purse down and slide out of my sneakers. "How are you?"

All she offers is a small shoulder shrug as her eyes glaze with sadness.

My poor mother.

Ricardo stands from the couch, sending me an empathetic nod. "I'm going to head out back to mow," he says, graciously leaving us alone.

"Thanks, hon," Mom replies, reaching for his hand and squeezing before he disappears through the patio door.

I stand in the entryway, lost.

Frozen.

Hopelessly unsure.

"Come here, sweetheart," Mom says, patting the space beside her on the sofa. "I miss you."

My eyes mist, her words triggering my legs into action. I collapse beside her as her arms envelop me, and I break down. "I'm so sorry, Mom. For everything."

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

"I abandoned you. I've been a really shitty daughter," I croak. "Selfish."

"Ella," she whispers, propping two fingers underneath my chin and lifting my head. "Every human being has a right to be selfish when it comes to grief. I abandoned you, too, in the wake of what happened with your brother." Her voice cracks on the last word. "I sacrificed precious time with you, so obsessed with overturning the case, when I still had a child here who needed me more than ever," she tells me brokenly. "I kept you in the dark. I was trying to protect you, trying to save you from another crushing disappointment if it didn't work out. So, no, Ella…you don't need to apologize for taking time to heal, no matter the cost. I'll always be your safe place to land when there's nowhere else to go." She strokes my hair back and shushes my tears. "I promise."

Her words make me cry harder as I bury my face against her shoulder.

In the midst of my tears, there's a solemn realization that bitterness—like a stubborn thorn—cannot be the sole foundation for our relationship. As my mom continues to comfort me, I sense a shared vulnerability bloom between us. Mom made a choice; her staunch belief in Jonah's innocence guided her judgment. Love always has a way of guiding the heart's will.

I can't fault her for love.

And I know that I'll need to make a choice, too.

"I love you," I whisper against her shoulder as she strokes my hair. "I don't want to stay angry, or to hold on to useless grudges. I just want to move forward. I want to live. And it's so hard to live when I feel trapped inside this bubble of tragedy and resentment." Inhaling a ragged breath, I finish with, "I just…I want to heal, Mom."

"Oh, sweetheart…I love you, too. So much." She sniffles, squeezing me tighter. "Do what you need to do to find your healing, okay? Whatever it might be. I will always be here. No matter what."

I nod, taking her words at face value.

Simmering in them. Spinning them over inside my head.

We stay like that for a few minutes, maybe ten, maybe twenty. It feels nice to be held, to still be loved after so much love has been sucked out of everything.

"I have something for you," Mom says, removing her glasses to swipe away her own tears. Smudges of mascara mingle with dark circles as she returns the wire-rimmed glasses to her nose. "It's from Grandma. She left you something in her will."

"She did?"

"Of course. I know she was stern and set in her ways, but she loved you very much." Mom stands and traipses across the small living room to snag her purse off a wall hook.

She hands me a manila envelope.

I lift up off the couch and pluck the envelope from her hands, grazing my fingertips over the starchy paper. A knot tightens in my throat.

"I'll give you a few minutes," she says softly. "Find me in the bedroom after you've read over everything."

Nodding distractedly, I feel her hand squeeze my upper arm, and then I listen to her footfalls move away as she heads down the hallway.

I peel open the envelope and reach inside.

I read.

My eyes bulge. My lungs squeeze.

Air leaves me in a staggered whoosh as I lean back against the wall for support, the world blurring.

Grandma Shirley left me $250,000 in her will.

She also left a note.

Warm tears stream down my cheeks as I skim over the shaky ink, drinking in her final words to me.

Dearest Ella,

Use this money wisely.

More importantly, live wisely and with love.

With all my heart,

Grams

I place a palm over my chest, rereading the simple words dozens of times.

Then I glance out the window, my gaze settling and lingering on the RV on Chevy's property across the street, before panning over to Max's house.

My chest contracts. My pulse stutters.

And it only takes two heartbeats for me to figure it out.

I make my choice.

I know exactly what I'm going to do.