The Secret 02 The Forever of Ella and Micha (8 page)

“Why didn’t you call me?” My voice echoes through the room so I lower it. “I would have come over and helped you.”

“That’s why I didn’t call you.” Her tone is strained. “You didn’t need to come out. Ethan helped me and it’s all good. I’m taking my dad back to the rehab right now and then I’m heading back to school.”

“Do you need me to fly out there?” I stand up and pick up my guitar, ready to go.

“No, I’m fine, Micha,” she assures me. “I need to start taking care of myself a little bit more, but I promise I’m not having a meltdown.”

I should be happy, but I’m not. “When are you heading out to the wedding?”

She pauses and the phone statics. “In, like, a week, but you don’t need to come. I know you’re busy with stuff.”

“What the fuck is going on?” I’m getting pissed. “Why are you blowing me off?”

She sighs heavily. “I’m not blowing you off. I’m trying to let you live your life without my burdens… Look, I have to go. I just pulled up to the rehab center.” She hangs up before I can say anything else.

I rake my hands through my hair and then kick the brick wall behind the stage. “God damn it.”

Everyone in the club looks at me with terror in their eyes and I jump off the platform, storming for the door.

“Where are you going?” Naomi calls out, turning away from the bartender, ready to head after me. I ignore her and walk outside to the busy street.

Things aren’t going the way I planned. I haven’t even told Ella how I’m feeling—what I want from her—and she’s already pushing me away. Maybe I need to figure something else out.

Or maybe it might be time to move on.

“Do you want me to walk you in?” I say to my dad, putting the car into park. We’re out in front of the rehab center, a small tan brick building with a narrow bench area in front of it where people are smoking. The sky is cloudy and leaves fall from the trees onto the hood of the car.

He shakes his head as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’ll be fine, Ella. And you should probably be getting on the road before it gets too late.”

“Are you sure?” I check. “Because like I said back at the house, you can talk to me if you need to.”

He gazes at the entrance door. “I didn’t mean what I said… I don’t blame you. I know it wasn’t your fault.” My gaze meets his eyes, which have cleared of alcohol but still carry so much pain and hatred. “I know it’s probably hard for you to remember, but I didn’t used to be like this. Things used to be good, and then your mother started taking a turn for the worse and everything went downhill. It was hard to deal with, and I handled it wrong.”

I’m stunned. He’s never talked to me like this before, but he also hasn’t been sober for more than five minutes.

“Dad, do you regret things…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Do you wish that sometimes you would have just left and had a normal life?”

He lets out a shaky breath. “Honestly, yes, sometimes I look back and wish I would have run out. I probably would have been a lot happier. I’ll always hate myself for feeling that way, but it’s the truth.” He opens the door and climbs out, ducking his head back into the cab. “Thanks for bringing me back.”

He shuts the door and walks up the sidewalk, putting a cigarette into his mouth as he joins the people in the smoking area. A woman with red hair hands him a Zippo and he lights up, taking a drag. I sit in the car for a while and let his words replay in my mind with a heavy feeling weighing on my shoulders. Is this Micha’s and my future? The therapist already wants to check me for depression, which was how my mother started. What if it ends up that I am depressed? What if Micha and I stay together and I start to go downhill? What if I ruin his life?

By the time I leave the parking space, all I want to do is go home, climb into bed, and shut down my mind.

“Ella, get your butt out of bed,” Lila demands, jerking the blankets off me. “Or I swear to God, I’m going to dump a cup of ice water on you.”

The sunlight trickling through the window stings my eyes. I curl up in a ball, cradle my knees to my chest, and cover my head with my arms. “Leave me alone and close the curtain. The light is giving me a headache.”

She turns down the song playing on the stereo, “The Tide” by Spill Canvas, and sits down on the edge of the bed. She’s wearing a white shirt, jeans, and a pair of high-heeled boots. Her hair is curled up and her lips are stained pink, along with her cheeks.

“Are you going out?” I bury my face to the pillow and my voice muffles. “If you are, can you pick up some milk? I drank it all last night.”

She tugs on my shoulder, kind of roughly, and forces me to look at her. “You have to stop this. You’ve been in bed for almost three days… What the heck happened back in Star Grove?”

“Nothing,” I mutter. “I dropped my dad off at rehab and then drove back here.”

“What did your dad say to you?” She says it with accusation.

“Nothing.” I roll onto my stomach and smash my face into the pillow. “Look, Lila, you can sit here and dig into this all you want, but there’s nothing there. I just feel like shit and want to be alone.”

She dithers and then gets up from the bed. “I’ll be back later tonight with some milk.”

“Thank you.” I shut my eyes. “And can you turn the music back up?”

A few seconds later, Spill Canvas fills the room again and I drift off to sleep, happy to let my mind enter sleep mode.

“How long has she been like this?” Fingers lightly trace up and down my back.

“Since she came back from dealing with her dad,” Lila says with worry in her tone. “So, like, four days. She barely gets out bed and she won’t eat anything.”

“What the hell happened?” Micha sounds equally as concerned.

I rotate onto my side, blinking my exhausted eyes against the sunlight spilling through the window. Micha is sitting on the edge of my bed with his hand on my back and his hair has a little wave to it, which means he’s recently been sleeping.

“Nothing happened,” I say and they both jump.

“That’s a lie.” Lila paces the floor with her hands on her hips. Her blonde hair is twisted up and she’s got on a purple lacy dress. “We know something happened.”

Micha’s is wearing all black, with his chain hooked to the belt loops. His eyes search mine and my insides quiver. “What did your dad say to you?”

I sit up and his hand falls off my back to the bed. “He didn’t say anything.”

“Ella May”—he reaches for my face—“don’t feed me bullshit.”

“I’m not feeding you bullshit, Micha Scott.” I climb out of the bed and drag my feet toward the bathroom. “Did you ever consider that this is who I am? That maybe you can’t save me because you’d have to save me from my own head?” I lock the door and collapse onto the floor, hugging my knees to my chest as thoughts race through my head.

I wish he wasn’t here.

I wish he would just let me go.

I wish I didn’t have to wake up anymore and deal with life, because it hurts. It all hurts.

Seconds later, someone knocks on the door. “Ella, open the God damn door before I break it down.”

“I want to be left alone,” I snap. “I never asked you to come here, Micha.”

“I know you didn’t,” he says softly through the door. “Lila called me because she was worried about you. And so am I. You act like you might be going back to that dark place again.”

“I’m not. I promise.” I feel too drained to deal with anything else, so I crawl over to the shower and turn it on, letting the sound of the running water drown out his voice. It feels like I should be crying, but my eyes are dry.

I lie on my back on top of the fuzzy purple rug on the floor and stare up at the small crack in the ceiling. I never expected him to come here. I wanted more preparation, but it’s time to face the inevitable.

I’m letting him go. Cutting the strings. Because I love him that much.

I made the decision on my way home, as my dad’s words continually haunted me. I want something better for Micha than a dark, murky future.

Suddenly, the doorknob lock pops up. The door swings open and Micha stands in the doorway with a bent hanger in his hand.

“What are you doing, pretty girl?” he asks, taking in the sight of me. “One minute we’re good and suddenly you’re shutting me out again.”

Closing my eyes, I inhale, and then open them again, breathing out. “We need to talk.”

He shakes his head, looking like he understands what’s coming. “No, we don’t, unless it’s about something happy.” He tosses the hanger into the sink and drops to his knees in front of me. “You can have your mood swings, but I’m not going to let you shut me out. It’ll blow over.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “No, it won’t. It’s part of me.” I muster a shaky breath. “I think we should break up.”

Quickly shaking his head, he lies on top of me. “Stop it. I’m not going to let you do this. Just tell me what’s going on and I’ll try to fix it.”

My whole body aches. “Nothing’s going on. I just don’t want to do this anymore. It’s getting tiring.”

His eyes blaze with anger and he crashes his lips to mine, suffocating my thoughts momentarily as his tongue slips deep into my mouth. I kiss him back as his thumb runs along each one of my ribs, but when his hand heads down south, I snap back into reality and start to panic. I have to do something—anything—to make him hate me; otherwise he’ll never let me go and he has to let me go.

Placing a hand on his chest, I gently push him away and look directly into his aqua eyes. “Micha, I cheated on you.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”

“I’m being serious.” I let my hand fall from his chest. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but I didn’t know how to.”

He leans back. “No, you didn’t.”

I sit up and tuck my legs under me, plucking at a thread on the rug. “Please don’t make this any harder than it is. I did it and I’m sorry… I didn’t plan it or anything. I was just drunk and it happened.”

He’s starting to believe me and I feel like the world’s biggest asshole, but one day, when he’s married and has kids and he’s happy, this moment won’t matter to him.

“Who was it with?” His voice is quiet, but quakes with rage.

I force down the massive lump in my throat. “That doesn’t matter.”

His gaze bores into me. “Yeah, it does.”

My legs tremble as I stand up and turn off the shower. “I’m not going to tell you so that you can go beat the shit out of him.” I start to walk around him, but he sidesteps me, blocking my path as he puts a hand on each side of the doorway.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you did it,” he growls. “Tell me that you fucking ripped out my heart and stomped on it.”

My tongue feels like lead, but I manage to keep my voice steady. “I’m sorry, Micha. I really am. I’d take it back if I could, but no one can change the past.”

Turning away from me, he punches a hole in the wall just below the light switch. He storms off and, moments later, the front door slams shut. Silence is all that follows, which is what I want.

I want him to hate me, just as much as I hate myself.

That way I can’t bring him down with me.

Days feel like weeks as I plummet into a deeper hole of darkness and exhaustion. Thoughts of giving up drift through my mind and all I want is to shut my eyes and never see the light of day again.