Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Ella

The next morning, I sat on the porch swing at my grandmother's cabin—my cabin—and stared at the lake. Shifting my hot cup of coffee from hand to hand, I managed to wrap my robe tighter around myself. I hadn't slept well, but I'd still gotten up at six-thirty.

Even before I took the nursing job in Refuge Falls, I'd worked as a nurse in California since I'd graduated four years ago. I'd always worked the day shift, which I was grateful for, because nursing could have horrible hours. In Los Angeles, I had to get up early for the commute, so six-thirty truly felt like sleeping in.

I took a sip of coffee and tried to relax into the porch swing. It was chilly this early in the morning. I'd pulled out the outdoor heater and had it running next to me.

The system was ridiculous. I was outside trying to heat myself, while I was outside. I couldn't help but smile, because Grandma had taught it to me. Grandpa had always teased her about it. He'd passed away when Greg and I were around twelve. I still remembered cuddling with my brother in the swing while the heater was on. Grandma would be inside the kitchen, making us breakfast, and a little TV would blare the news from the countertop.

Another wave of grief hit me. I would never get back that time with my brother. I wished I had appreciated all the time with him when I had it. That was the thing about death—it stole time. It made a person look back on everything before and see it in a new, painful light.

It didn't help that today was the anniversary of his death. Brian had always hated that I observed this day. I hated that he'd hated it. It had sparked our first fight after getting married, because he'd been upset that I'd been paying attention to something that wasn't him.

I stared into my black coffee, then put it down and reached for another blanket to pile on me. I hadn't changed much in the house yet, had just been systematically decluttering and getting rid of things, but there were so many I couldn't part with. Like Grandma's blankets.

Tears streaked cold trails down my cheeks. It wasn't fair. I should've died that day, not my brother. It should have been me.

Closing my eyes, I rocked back and forth. It took a minute before I wiped the tears and leaned back, gazing out again at the lake.

I'd gone to sleep last night thinking of how different Noah looked from when I'd seen him eight years ago. His face had popped up in my mind again and again, no matter how I'd tried to push it away. I'd remembered the last time I'd touched that face, the last time our lips had been pressed together. I couldn't forget his expression when I'd told him I could never be with him.

Anger suddenly rushed through me. Why did I have to see him yesterday?

The guilt set in. I loved his father. His mom and dad had always been so good to me. I'd seen them at the movie theater when I'd first gotten into town. I'd gone there by myself, hoping to get lost in a story and not think about my life. Of course, I'd forgotten that I wasn't in Los Angeles anymore. Refuge Falls was not really a refuge when you were trying to run away from everyone. His mom had hugged me, and his father had given me a kind look and told me how sorry he was about my grandma.

My phone buzzed, jolting me from the memory. Who would be trying to call so early?

Mom.

I nearly dropped the phone. I hadn't talked to my parents since Grandma's funeral.

"Hello," I answered. I was keenly aware of how most people would say something more personal, like "hey, Mom." But our relationship wasn't like that.

"It's the day. I know you like to honor it in your own way."

"I do." One time, we'd had a brief discussion about how I thought of it as a death anniversary.

"I wanted to call you and tell you that I know you think Dad and I don't think about it, but we do. We miss him too."

That was more thought and emotion than I'd thought was possible from my mom. "O-kay."

She sighed. "Have you settled into Grandma's house, then?"

This small talk also took me by surprise. "Yes."

There was silence over the line. A bird chirped in the distance.

"Where are you and Dad right now?"

"New York. Well, I'm in New York. Dad took another assignment."

That sounded cryptic, but I wasn't in the mood to chase down where my father had gone on yet another important journalistic assignment. "Oh."

Silence fell between us.

"I'm actually working with a photographer to capture millennial life and how it differs from people our own age."

"Oh, neat." She was always doing something academic like that, and I wondered if she would publish it in some college journal.

"And your divorce is final? We always liked Brian."

That comment caught me off guard and reminded me why I never cared about talking with my mother. "It is," I said slowly. "I told you he was abusive."

"Do you think you're just sensitive?"

That floored me. "The fact that he pushed me several times and hit me makes me sensitive?"

"Man, El, you always have to be so extreme. You and Greg were both extreme; that's the only reason you were out freestyle climbing that day. You were both so, so, so extreme."

My mouth went dry. "What?"

"You know it's true."

I gaped, staring off into space. How could she say something like that?

"On another topic, have you seen a box of photograph books that your grandmother had of you and Greg when you were young?"

Now I was ticked off. "You know, Mom, I have to go."

"Don't be such a child. I just want some old pictures back. That's all."

"Why would you want that, Mom? Do you need a picture of us for some article? I don't know why else you'd want pictures of your extreme children." I pressed end on the call, my heart racing.

I pushed the blanket off and turned off the heater. Needing to get some of my energy out, I went into the house and to my room. I hadn't moved my things into my grandmother's room, even though it was the biggest one; I was still in the room I'd always used while growing up. I hadn't even gone into Greg's room. I knew it would still be the same.

My mother was ridiculous. Greg would agree!

I put on my sweats and a sweatshirt with some running shoes. I pulled my hair back into a tight bun, found my AirPods, grabbed my phone, and then made sure the front and back doors were locked, slipping the key into my sock. With all of that taken care of, I took off down the road, heading toward the lakeside. It would be busy. At least, I hoped so.

I had done an eight-mile loop, then made my way back to the house, walking down the driveway for my cooldown, when I saw a red Mustang convertible parked and waiting for me. Kayla's Mustang.

My pace faltered as she got out of the car. Kayla had always dressed fancy. Currently, she wore black slacks, spiked boots, and a red leather jacket that matched the car. Her blonde hair was wild and perfectly curled; she'd always looked like she'd gotten a perfect perm. Her lipstick was bright, and her eyebrows were pencil thin.

Even though Kayla was quite a bit younger than me, I felt like I was in trouble. I'd seen her around town a couple times, and she had always come up and hugged me without pressing me for information. She crossed her arms and gave me an up-and-down look.

"What brings you out?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. Her brother was back in town, and she was protective of all her brothers.

"You touched my brother yesterday." She said it in an accusatory way, as if I'd punched him.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just putting you on notice that Noah's going to be in town for a while. When you see him, don't touch him. It messes with his head. And if you see him and tell him I said that … well, you'll have other problems."

I couldn't believe what was happening, but I laughed. I had trained myself to laugh as a defense mechanism when Brian would threaten me. That training came in handy as I pushed past Kayla toward the front door. "I don't respond to threats." I pulled the key out of my sock and let myself in, ignoring her.

She was hot on my heels, grabbing the screen door before it closed and following me inside. "You told him you couldn't be with him because you would always think of Greg. And I get that, but when my brother comes back to town because he's worried about my dad and you touch him, it just … it just doesn't let things die between you, does it?"

In the kitchen, I picked up dishes from the night before and did my best to ignore her. Kayla and I had never gotten into it before. I didn't know what to do.

She moved closer to me and put her hands on my kitchen counter. "Tell me you heard what I said."

Before I could even think about it, I whirled on her, feeling all of the defensiveness I'd had about my ex's abuse triggered. "Get out of my house. Get out. This thing with me and your brother is going to stay between us, not involve you. Stay out of my business."

She sized me up one more time and then turned for the door. Then she hesitated, seeing the obituary I had left lying on the counter. Reading about my brother's life was my ritual for this anniversary. Maybe it was because they were the only words of love my parents had ever written to him. They had never even talked about it with me.

"Oh my gosh." Kayla put her hand to her mouth and then stared up at me. "That was today."

I started to shake as her eyes went back to the obituary. "Get out. Now." I couldn't put the firmness in my voice this time.

Compassion softened her face. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have come here." She rushed out the door, pulling it closed behind her.