Chapter Twenty-Five

Today

I was quiet when I returned from the bathroom. I knew Tucker was looking at me, but I wished he wouldn't. I didn't want him to pity me. We stopped at a beach and walked on the sand for a little while after drinks, but he didn't come near me. Then, Tucker laughed and joked with his friends while I sat silently in the back of the car on the way home. He was unfazed. You'd never assume we'd had a conversation that left me blubbering in a public bathroom. Cool as a cucumber, sober as a judge. He didn't try to catch my eye anymore or speak to me.

While Ritchie makes lasagna for dinner, I change my clothes. I pop Tucker's sweatshirt back over my head and take my necklace off. I hear him coming into the room and I hurry into the bathroom, locking it, saying, "I'm in here!"

"Okay, I'm just grabbing my phone charger."

Probably so he can find a Tinder date for the night so he doesn't have to make awkward conversation with a girl who can't stop staring at his toothbrush like a crazed, obsessed teenager.

We all eat dinner on the patio watching the sunset, listening to the gentle sound of small waves hitting rocks. Twinkle lights sparkle around the pool and down the path to the dock. The fountain has a light in it, changing the color of the trickling water. A squirrel scratches at a seed and Tucker's voice scratches my brain.

Spinning his fork, Wyatt offers to the group, "You know what? I've been thinking about my New Year's resolution, and I've decided to do more fun shit this year. What about you guys?" He frowns at the cackle of laughter. "I mean it! I need to get out of my cubicle and see the world or take up a hobby or something."

Ritchie laughs, "Dude, you skateboard to work. You go out almost every night. You traveled to two different countries this year. You took a mixology class, and you dabble in street art."

"So?"

"So, there's no one more fun than you! How much more fun can one person have?"

"I want to get into woodworking," Wyatt answers. "Maybe learn to knit."

Callie rests her bare feet on the arms of his chair, reclined, hands on her full stomach, and says, "My New Year's resolution is to get a dog."

"We are not getting a dog," Serena groans. "My resolution is to get her to stop volunteering at the animal shelter."

"Good luck with that." Callie looks at Jen and Johnny. "Our soon-to-be-married couple," she purrs. "What does your year look like?"

Johnny reaches over and squeezes Jen's hand. "A giant wedding in Lake Tahoe. I've been talking to a wedding planner already. I'm so stoked. It'll be a three-day affair, at least , with my best friends at my side."

Tucker and I exchange a glance.

He continues, "We've got a bachelor party to plan, we're still looking for a house -"

Callie interrupts, "But John, what does your life look like?"

"I just told you."

"That's your wedding. That's one day. What's the rest of it going to be about?"

His eyes fall on Jen. I notice the confusion and maybe fear. He mutters, "I mean, we'll just figure it out, I guess."

Jen smiles. "Quality time. Words of affirmation."

"There you go!" Serena cheers. "She figured it out."

Johnny exhales, relieved to have been saved.

I take it he hasn't thought much about what he plans to do after the wedding. Once they're married, real life starts. And it won't end. How could he have not thought about that? If I was proposing to someone, all I'd see is the block of time between then and death and how I'd want to spend it. That's the whole point. You can love someone forever, near or far, and not marry them. If you marry them, it's because you want actions to accompany that love. You're specifically saying, we do this together. You're promising that the law will have to separate you, it's not ambiguous.

Did Johnny propose to Jen because he wants her by his side every morning when he wakes up or when he's seventy and needs someone to help find his shoes? Or did he just do it because he missed his friends and family, and he wanted something that felt comforting?"

Callie turns to Tucker. "All right, Tuck, you're up next. How many houses are you flipping this year?"

He does this perfectly Tucker thing where he sinks into himself as if he's shy, but you can't take your eyes off of him, because he oozes confidence. He focuses on his empty plate. "Um, besides the never-ending bed and breakfast, I've got two houses my team is working on that'll be finished in the spring."

"And how many women are you going to let slip through your fingers?"

He looks up under his brows. "Well, I've still got some hearts to break before they turn me into the next Disney villain , so I'll be working toward that goal."

She smirks. "And what about finally telling the truth?"

His eyes flash angrily.

"Ella?" Callie twists her head to me. "That one was for you, too."

I cross my legs on my chair. My ears pick up on sipping wine and dropping forks, quieting sounds around the table. I dart my eyes around at the expectant faces. "The truth about what?"

She moves her legs and sits up. "About how you feel."

My hands rifle through my hair. She can't be asking me this. She can't know. "I don't know what you mean."

"How you feel about moving to San Francisco."

"Oh." My arms fall. Serena gives me a sad sort of expression, as if she also thought I was being asked a different question. "Um…I'm excited," I try. "A little nervous."

Wyatt jumps in, "Surf trip!" He throws his hands up. "This summer, we can all pitch in to help Ella move and we can do whatever wedding stuff these two have planned. Get our sun and surf on. California here we come!"

Tucker lets out a soft laugh. "I don't know if I can make that, man."

"No," I snap. "I don't think he can."

His eyes meet mine. "Not because I wouldn't want to help you, but I've got a busy summer."

"Of course," I mutter. "I know how much you like helping me ."

"I do, Ella." His voice is soft, patient.

Mine, not so much. "You could help me right off a cliff, couldn't you?" I drag my eyes from him. Frustration starts to gnaw at me. It cannot be ignored, and I want to put some boundaries up before I lose myself in the whirlpool of my feelings.

With attempted strength, I say, "Guys, the truth is that Tucker and I aren't going to see each other anymore after this trip. It's not just working out for me. This is the last time we will all be together."

A fish splashes by the dock. It's the only sound. My body rumbles, my jittery muscles feel that they must be making some noise, like an angry jackhammer, but everyone is silent.

Wyatt speaks up first, "Well, that sucks."

"Are you sure?" Serena says with an upward inflection as if I may be making a premature statement.

"Yes," I say definitively.

Ritchie asks, "Why can't you figure this out? It seems like you two have been fine these last two days."

Wyatt adds, "He had his tongue down your throat last night and you seemed okay with that!" He bumps his elbow on Tucker's arm. "What do you have to say?"

"It's what Ella wants," Tucker replies, his voice strained. "She calls the shots."

Don't cry. I don't want to make this a pity Ella moment, I want it to be a final nail in the coffin. No more bathroom blubbering. No more thinking of how badly I want Tucker to love me back. I can't be in his ambivalent presence. That doesn't work for me.

"It'll be fine." I'm half-afraid I'll burn a hole through this table with my eyes. "We made it work for seven years, we can do it for seventy more."

Tucker spits, "You think you're going to live to be one hundred?"

"Once I cut out the dead weight, yeah , I think I might," I growl back.

He sucks me in with a look. Why are you doing this? he asks.

No expression can adequately explain why I can't be in the same room with him again.

Johnny leans forward. "Ella, I told you, no more two Christmases , okay? This argument between you guys ends now. Just get over it! Move on."

"I have," Tucker places.

Screw me setting things on fire, it's him who lights the first torch. His words burn and echo inside me.

"It's me," I mumble. "I can't get over it. I can't forgive him. I can't just move on." I suggest, "I'll step back if that's easier. You guys are the ones who are all friends.

"Come on, you're our friend," Serena reasons.

"You know what I mean." I shrug. "I'm the outlier."

"No, we don't know what you mean because we don't think of you like that." She widens her eyes at Tucker, silently asking him something.

He exhales. "No, it's my fault. I fucked up, I'm the one who should step back."

My reason for wanting to never see him again is only half his fault. If I didn't love him, I could be ambivalent, too.

I respond softly, "Not all your fault."

Ritchie stands and collects his and Wyatt's plates. "Look, we've still got two more days here. Let's not write off you guys working it out in that time. Let's just keep having a good time and we'll deal with the next trip when the time comes." He stops me when I try to get up and help with the dishes. "Don't you dare. Sit right there, birthday girl."

I sit quietly at the table, avoiding their eyes as everyone quietly collects the dishes.

"You okay, Ell?" Serena asks when just the two of us are left outside.

No.

My heart hurts. It's hurt for a long time.

"Ella?" Serena bends down and grips my knees. "Babe, what's wrong? You're crying."

I wipe away the tears and suck in air. "I wish everything was different."

I think about what I could have done differently and if that would have kept him. I could have prevented myself from falling in love with Tucker and he wouldn't have had to change. I should have said he was my friend from the get-go. I could have never fought with him or argued or kicked him in the balls. I shouldn't have dressed provocatively, maybe then he wouldn't have kissed me on the cruise that first time. I shouldn't have told him I wanted our prom night to be a date and I shouldn't have asked him to have sex with me. He would have been the equivalent of Johnny. He would have come to see me in the hospital.

It's not your fault.

My inner voice calls bullshit.

Everything between us always happened like a mirror. In a vacuum. I moved, he moved, and the rest of the world didn't exist. We shared so much with each other that the overlap became a separate entity and that's how I thought of him. We told our families, "You don't understand our relationship." Because they couldn't. It didn't have a label or a box to fit into, but it was a consistent presence, a tangible history, that only he and I could see, hear, feel. We became what we are now together.

My phone was crushed in the accident. In the hospital, I thought maybe he was trying to call me, but he couldn't reach me. I begged Johnny to call him.

"He knows, Ella." Johnny patted my arm. "He hopes you get better real soon."

I threw up. The doctors said it was from the medication, but I knew better.

Tucker wouldn't have patted me on the arm. He wouldn't have floated outside of my orbit. He would have held me to him, flush against his body, trying to take away all of the pain. He would have anchored me, grounded me. He would have told me I was perfect, even with my scars and bruises, and I wouldn't have needed another thing. I'd finally be safe.

I waited. I cried. I got a new phone and sent him a message: where have you been? He didn't answer.

Serena runs her hand down my head. "I know what this is about." Of course, she would know who these tears were for.

"Who is he?" I whine.

"He's a little different, I guess."

I drop my voice. "I don't want him to be different, I want him the same ."

"Things aren't always that simple."

"That's not fair!"

Serena stands. "Okay. Let's go sit by the water. We need to talk."

We walk, arm in arm, down the wooden planks, to the smooth, quiet ocean. I sit cross-legged on the edge of the dock, and she sits beside me, dangling her toes in the water.

"Look, I'm not supposed to tell you this," she begins. "But I think I know why Tucker's kept his distance."

"Why?" I beg.

"Johnny told us not to tell you."

"What? Tell me what?"

She squishes up her face. "Tucker was arrested after your accident. I don't think he wants you to know."

Arrested? That's not possible. Tucker's a lot of things, but reckless with the law is not one of them. I would have known something like that.

I argue, "No. My parents would have told me."

" Would they? Is it something that would have wanted you to know about when you were in rehab?" She shakes her head. "You would have freaked out, Ella, you know it. He spent ten days in jail, if I remember correctly. But I know it could have been a lot worse if you guys didn't live in a small town and his dad wasn't fishing buddies with a judge."

The thought of Tucker in jail made no sense to me. It didn't explain why he didn't see me in the hospital, why he didn't call, why our parents kept it all secret.

Serena continues, "We all understood it. Johnny thought it was stupid and he was mad at him. It took him a little while to cool off, but I know why Tucker did it."

"Did what?" I ask. "What did he do?"

She sighs. "He beat the living shit out of the guy that hit you. Third-degree assault, I think."

I look out at the horizon line and thought about how the dark sky could have seemed like a void if the stars didn't shine so brightly.

"Assault?" I repeat.

At first my accident was classified as a hit-and-run. Then, the police were able to track down camera footage from the gas station I stopped at and identified the car that hit me directly after. The driver was a single, middle-aged man. He had been stopped after crashing into me, his car barely had a dent, and was arrested for drunk driving, three times over the legal limit. There had been no connection between me and him for several weeks.

I could see Tucker learning his name and address, coming to his front door and beating him up. I could see him wanting to hide that information from me.

I take my phone out and ask Serena, "Can you give me a minute? I need to make a phone call."

"Sure." She kisses the top of my head and the planks squeak when she walks back.

I call my mom.

"Hey Ells!" she answers. "How's your trip? You know I was just looking at the weather report –"

"Mom," I interrupt. "Tell me about Tucker going to jail."

She's quiet. "He finally told you?"

"Serena did."

She exhales. "Well, it was bound to come out eventually. It was awful and stupid, but you know, it just made your father love that boy even more. Hal wanted to get his hands around that man's neck so badly. We all were just so angry that he was allowed to roam free, driving back and forth to the bars, while you were busy learning to walk again."

I listened to the sound of her comforting, steady breath.

"Anyway…that poor boy had so much pent-up anxiety from the accident and Lori tried so hard to get him into therapy before he did something like this. He just didn't get it dealt with fast enough."

I wonder, "Why would he have anxiety about my accident? He never even saw me in the hospital. He never even called."

My mother is quiet. "You said Serena told you about the jail thing?"

"Yes."

"And you're going to go talk to Eli about it, huh?"

" Yes ."

"Well, then, the cat's out of the bag anyway. I might as well tell you. Hal –" She pulls the phone away to say something to my dad about the dog needing to go out.

I demand, "Mom!"

"Yes?"

"Mom - tell me what the big secret is!"

"Oh! Well, honey…the truth is that Elijah is the one who found you on the side of the road. He's the one who called 911."