The Secret of Ella and Micha (The Secret 1)

"Hi, I'm Lila," she introduces herself and offers her hand. "You must be Ella's brother, Dean."

Dean is vaguely amused and shakes her hand. "Yeah... how do you know Ella?"

"I was her roommate," she responds, pressing her hand to her chest, faking being offended. "Didn't she ever mention me?"

"We don't talk that much." I eye the bathroom door again and my stomach twists. "We need to find Dad."

"I'm not looking in that bathroom, Ella, but if you want to, go ahead."

With legs flimsier than wet noodles, I walk down the dark hallway and stop in front of the door, having a flashback of the day my mom died. The door was closed and the house was soundless, except for the running of water. My hands tremble as I open the door.

The room is bare, the tub empty, and the tile floor is clean, except for a small stain. There are no towels on the hooks and the mirror on the wall across from me shows my reflection. My auburn hair is curled perfectly in place, my lips are lined with gloss, and my green eyes are immense and reveal everything.

"Dad isn't in here," I tell him, unable to look away from the mirror. "Are you sure you didn't hear him leave the house?"

"He could have left and I just didn't hear him," he answers. "But when has he ever left the house quietly before?"

I quickly slam the bathroom door, like I'm trying to put out a fire, and race back down the hall. "Someone needs to find him. Did you try and call him?"

"Of course. I'm not a moron." He rolls his eyes and nods. "And he didn't answer."

Lila shifts her weight and forces the uncomfortable conversation elsewhere. "So you play the drums, Dean?"

He motions to his drum set in the middle of his small room with dark blue walls. The floor and bed are cluttered with boxes and the curtain is pulled back, letting the sunlight spill in. "I used to, but I don't much anymore. I have work and a fiance."

"Fiance?" Lila and I say simultaneously.

"Yeah, as in we're engaged." Dean rolls his eyes and goes back into his room. "It's what happens when two people date for a really long time."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, following him into his room.

He picks up a small box and drops it onto the floor. "Do you really care that I am?"

I carefully nudge the box out of the way with my foot. "You're my brother. Of course I care."

"But it's not like we've ever really gotten along," he points out. "I haven't even talked to you for a year. God, I didn't even know you went to college until a week ago."

He's right, which is sad. I barely know him, he barely knows me, and I'm starting to think I barely know me, too.

"Does Dad know you're engaged?" I ask. "Were you at least planning on telling him?"

"Even if I told him, he'd just forget the next day." He empties a dresser drawer into a large open box and then aligns the drawer back into place. "You know how he is. Christ, I don't even think half the time he knows that you and I don't live here anymore."

"He still deserves to be told," I say. "He's not a bad guy and you know it. He just has problems."

"Problems that f**ked up our childhood." He kicks a box out of the way with force and it crashes into the wall. "You do realize that how we grew up wasn't normal. God, even Micha had it easier and his dad bailed out on him, but at least he had a stable mom to take care of him."

"Umm..." Lila pokes her head in the room. "I think I'm going to wait outside for you, Ella."

God, I'd forgotten she was even there and she just heard all of that.

"Okay, I'll be down in a second," I tell her and she leaves readily. I wander around Dean's room, taking in the photos he has up. "I think we may have just scared her to death."

Dean picks up his drumsticks and places them into a large duffel bag. "Okay, I have to ask. How did you end up being friends with her?"

"She was my roommate and we just sort of bonded." I shrug, picking up a photo of Dean and his friends on a sunny beach. It was taken during his Senior Field Trip and he looks happy.

"You bonded," he accuses. "The girl looks like a spoiled princess."

I eye his preppy clothes. "So do you."

"First off, I'm not a princess and I've earned what I have," he says. "It wasn't just handed to me."

"Maybe she did, too."

"Did she?"

I hate to give him the benefit of being right. "No, her parents are pretty well off."

He looks at me with that stupid arrogant expression he gets when I admit he's right. "Well, there you have it then."

"She's nice," I protest. "And she doesn't ask a lot of questions."

"It may seem like you need to keep things to yourself," he says, putting a blanket into a box. "But it's not healthy. You need to find someone you can let it all out to. Otherwise you're going to lose it."

My eyes roam to the window where the edge of Micha's house is visible. "I think I already did."

Dean's forehead creases as he drops a handful of guitar picks into a trunk. "Lose it? Or talk to someone about it?"

"Both." I back toward the door. "When are you heading back to Chicago?"

"Hopefully by tonight. No offense or anything, but this place brings back way too many unpleasant memories."

"Try to say good-bye before you leave."

He doesn't respond and I don't wait around for an answer. That was probably the longest conversation that we've ever had and I have a feeling it may be our last for a very long time.

Chapter 12

Micha

"Dude, where the f**k is your head today?" Ethan asks and seconds later a grease rag hits me in the face.

I throw it back at him, hard. "You're starting to piss me off with this crap."

Ethan widens his eyes exaggeratedly. "Whatever man. You've been so distracted for the last two days." He sticks his head back under the hood. "And I'm not going to say why."

"Good, because I don't want to hear it." I round the back of my car and eye over the tools on the wall of the garage. I grab a rusty toolbox, one of the few things my dad left behind, and toss it into the garbage can. He called again this morning, begging on the answering machine for either my mom or I to pick up.

Ethan raises his head up and eyes the garbage can. "Wanna explain what that was for?"

"Nope." I pick up a wrench and start working on the car.