“It’s Amelia. If anyone can keep a secret, it’s your wife. Don’t you think she deserves to know you’re running away? Shooting Randy was self-defense. Everyone knows that. And all this stuff about that Tim kid and the fire—just speak up and tell the truth. It was years ago. We can work through it.” Steve stared at her for a second when she mentioned the fire and then began to pace back and forth from the kitchen door to the hole he’d been rummaging through. If he hadn’t seemed so frantic, Ellie would’ve taken him by the shoulders and shaken him.
He looked almost comical wearing his father’s khakis and a light yellow button-up dress shirt. Steve pressed his lips together and nodded slowly as though processing the information as she said it. He coughed lightly and flinched back against the pain, blowing out several long breaths.
“It isn’t just that, L. The only loose end with Tim was taken care of weeks ago. Amelia left her keys out; you were on shift . . . Chief is pretty easy to convince of things nowadays, so we took a little field trip. Those papers are safely here now”—he pointed at the hole in the floor—“and they will be going to Cuba with me.”
Weeks ago. The explanation sounded so calculating and manipulative. It sounded like a mastermind who was proud of his deception. Every time she thought she’d figured out what was going on with Steve, another mask slipped into place. She wasn’t sure if she could even identify the “real Steve” if she saw him.
“But you have to know this isn’t about the fire,” he continued. “It’s the gambling stuff. Don’t pretend you know nothing about it, because I know Amelia told you. You know she was divorcing me, right?”
A stab of betrayal went through Ellie’s stomach. “No, she didn’t tell me.” So it was true. Damn it. Why didn’t Amelia confide in her? She pushed the pain away and refocused on Steve. “I don’t know much and I don’t really want to know, but please tell me this robbery didn’t have anything to do with that. God, Steve. What did you get yourself into?”
He shook his head and stopped pacing. Standing in front of her in the dark office, he reached out with his good side, placing a large, comforting hand on her shoulder.
“No, no . . . but once they start investigating, they are going to find out, and there are other things, money things that I could go away for. With what I had in the safe and the money my parents are willing to wire me, I can get away until this all gets cleared up.” Steve gestured in a general way to the office as though it were a cancer that needed to be cut out. He continued talking in a low, deep, nearly hypnotic voice. “But Caleb has it out for me. He’s going to tell all kinds of stories, and I . . . You must think I’m a coward, but . . . how am I supposed to support my kids if I go to jail? This way I can start over somewhere new and send money to my parents, and there’s the insurance money . . .” He dragged his hand down her arm and took her hand in his. “I mean, she didn’t want to be with me anymore, but I’d still take care of her. You know I would.”
Steve was growing emotional, and though it all seemed a little convoluted and made Ellie’s head swim, she couldn’t stand to see him in such a state. He was always, always there for her. Green Jell-O, there for her. Ellie placed her left hand over their clasped fingers as Steve’s tears turned to sobs. He leaned over, his forehead pressing against the pile of their hands.
“I don’t know what to say,” Ellie said, completely confused. Amelia wanted a divorce? Steve was still running his gambling business?
Steve pulled back; his face was wet but calmer than she expected. His eyes were clear, the whites brilliant. It was like some kind of clarity in his mind was being transmitted there.
“You should come with me, L. You’ve always hated this place. You deserve so much more. My dad has a friend in Cuba who’s gonna take me in for a while. We can go there and then make a plan. Amelia wanted me to make this money thing right. You could help me. We’ve always made a great team, and Collin is no good for you, Ellie. You could find someone else, easy.”
He squeezed her hand so hard, it almost hurt. Fear and a tiny pulse of excitement pounded in her chest. It was like the desire to walk into a burning building; you knew it was dangerous, lethal even, but it called to you. Not even just the saving-lives part; it was also the excitement, the adrenaline, the unknown. It was the part of her that didn’t scream, “Go back” when the heat hit but crooned, “Push forward.”
“Come with me,” he begged, his body suddenly alive with energy. “You can be whoever you want to be. No more taking care of everyone else. No more giving up your dreams. This is your chance—leave Broadlands forever.”
Those were the words, the ones she’d wanted to say for all twenty-two years of her life. Leave Broadlands. The phrase played in her mind like a lullaby. Leave Broadlands. Then, before she could stop it, the word that always followed that luscious, tempting phrase . . . but . . .
“You want me to go with you?” Ellie didn’t struggle with words normally. She was bold and fearless most of the time, but Steve’s request knocked the words out of her. Go with him? Go to Cuba? This whole episode seemed like some kind of bad reaction to the medication or maybe he hit his head after he was shot. This seemed like a very different Steve than the strong, experienced firefighter she’d always idolized.
A strange sensation made its way up her shoulders and neck and ears and to the top of her head, and she realized what it was. Fear. She wasn’t safe with Steve. She needed to get out of here as soon as possible.
The phone in his pocket started to buzz, and she grabbed for it like a lifeline. Before she could wrestle it out, Steve’s hand wrapped around her wrist, strong and vise-like. Her heart started to pound and not in the enjoyable, thrill-seeking kind of way. This was like when the emergency went wrong.
“I don’t think you should answer that right now.” He pried the phone out of her hand and glanced at the screen. “Rivera? Who is that? Wait, that’s your cop boyfriend again, isn’t it?” Steve pressed the red Decline icon on the screen and then held down the button on the side of the phone until it powered off, going from a living being to a cold, dead brick of glass and plastic.
Ellie stepped back once and then again, angling for the open door, trying to get some space between her and Steve. The part of her mind that had always seen him as an overprotective brother told Ellie to calm down, told her she was overreacting. But the part of her brain good at assessing dangerous situations told her to get out. Now. She took another step backward, the threshold within reach, but Steve reached around behind her and shoved the door shut.
“You don’t want to go in there, I promise.”
Ellie shoved her anxiety down, pressed her body against the metal door, and faced Steve, her feet squarely in a dried pool of Amelia’s blood.
“You need help. Come with me to the hospital. Amelia is awake. You can talk to her about all of this. Come with me,” she pleaded. She didn’t care how great a mentor Steve was or how much she looked up to him—this was insanity. She put her hand on the doorknob boldly, like she wasn’t afraid.