“It doesn’t matter anymore.” There’s a dullness in her face that scares me. She shakes her head. “Before I met you, my life was full of shitty things. But I dealt because what else could I do? It didn’t matter that my dad was never around, because I had my mom. I told myself that I should be grateful when she died because she was in so much pain. Then I came here and I looked at you and thought, I see myself beneath that hard, rough exterior. This boy lost his mother. He’s angry and hurt and I see him. Maybe he sees me, too.”
She folds her arms around her middle—trying to hold something in, keep me out. I don’t know anything other than she’s hurting. I reach for her, but she flinches as if even the thought of my touch is too painful.
Fuck, she’s hurting so bad and I did that to her.
“I did…do…see you,” I whisper.
She’s not listening. “And I thought, I’ll just keep after him. Eventually I’ll wear him down, convince him that we’re a beautiful fairy tale. But we’re not. We’re nothing. We’re smoke—insubstantial and meaningless.” She flicks her fingers against each other in a soundless snap. “We aren’t even a tragedy. We’re less than nothing.”
Her words make my heart ache. She’s right. I should walk away, but I can’t. And the fact that she’s in so much pain tells me that she needs me. Only a coward would stop fighting now. I caused all this pain, but I know that I can take it away if she’d give me the chance.
I take a deep breath. “I can play this two ways. I can walk away. Or I can fight for you. Guess which one I’m doing?”
Ella glares at me in stony silence, so I keep talking. “I messed up. I should’ve been honest with you from the start. Brooke told me she was pregnant that night. I panicked. My whole brain shut down. I scrambled for a way out that didn’t include me telling you that I ever touched her. I was ashamed. Okay? Ashamed. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Her lips curl. “Yeah, well, you know what I am? I’m the stupid girl in the horror movie. You made me into that stupid girl.” She points an accusing finger at me. “I’m the one running back into the house where the guy with the knife is. You warned me. Over and over again, you told me to stay away. But I couldn’t listen. I thought I knew better.”
“I was wrong. We shouldn’t stay away from each other. We can’t stay away from each other. You and I both know that.”
I walk toward her and stop when my toes nearly touch hers. Then, in one swift movement, I haul her against me. Oh fuck. She feels so good pressed up against me. I want to shove a hand in her soft hair and kiss the shit out of her, but she’s gazing up at me with livid, burning eyes.
“Stop touching me,” she snaps. “I’d rather die—”
I cover her mouth with my palm. “Don’t say things you’ll regret. Don’t say things we can’t come back from,” I warn.
Her hand flies up and crashes against the side of my face. My chin jerks to the right on impact, but I don’t let go. Her eyes are bright and her shoulders are shaking. I bet I look just as stupid and crazy and out-of-control at this moment as she does.
“What do you want from me? Tell me and I’ll do it. Do you want me on my knees? Me kissing your feet?”
“No, keep your pride,” she says snidely. “You’ll need something to keep you warm at night. Oh wait, that’s what you have Brooke for.” She gives my chest a hard shove and scrambles away, and she’s wresting the door open before I can reach her.
In the hall, Dad and Brooke grind to a halt. Dad looks at Ella’s fleeing figure and then back at me with narrowed eyes. Brooke’s all smiles.
Angrily, I stomp past them to find Gid. Maybe he has answers for me. At this point, he’s the only brother left who’ll talk to me.
I find him standing outside on the rocky ridge that separates the lawn from the sliver of sand we call a beach. The Atlantic is cold and dark, lit up only by a partially covered moon.
He doesn’t turn to look at me when he asks, “Is the baby yours?”
“Why does everyone think that?”
“Gee, bro, I can’t imagine why anyone who knew you slept with Brooke might think that her baby is yours.”
“It’s not.” I run a hand through my hair. “I haven’t touched her in over six months. Not since St. Patrick’s Day. We got lit, remember? I passed out upstairs. She climbed on top of me. I don’t remember much about it except waking up naked with her next to me. Dad was outside, calling us in to dinner. I was gonna tell him then. That night. But I chickened out.”
Gideon doesn’t answer. He simply keeps staring at the water.
“I used to think that Dinah and Brooke were trying to destroy this family, but now I think it’s us. We’re the ones killing the family. I don’t know how to make it better, Gid. Tell me.” Help me. He doesn’t speak, so I try again, desperate to make a connection. “Remember when Mom read us Swiss Family Robinson and we walked up and down the coast trying to find a perfect cave to live in? It was all five of us. We were going to kill the whale, eat berries, make our own clothes out of Spanish moss and seaweed.”
“We’re not kids anymore.”
“I know that, but it doesn’t mean we’re not still family.”