The Ever After of Ella and Micha (The Secret 4)

“That’s not what my dad and Dean say,” she whispers, pulling her hand away and forcing mine to fall from her chest.

“Your dad and your brother are f**king a**holes,” I tell her firmly, leaning over the console. “And it doesn’t matter what they think—no one else matters but you and me. Remember, you and me against the world.”

Her eyelids shut and then flutter open again. “You’re always saying that.”

“Because I mean it. I don’t care about anything else. I could lose anyone else and make it through. But not you, Ella May. I can’t do this without you.”

A few tears fall down her cheeks. “I hate myself.”

“Ella, God damn it, don’t say—”

“No!” she shouts, jerking away from me and huddling against the door. “I f**king hate myself! I do! And I wish you’d just see what I really am. You’re always seeing more in me than what there really is…” She drifts off as more tears spill out and she scans the outside of the car, the trees, the water, the rain, like she’s contemplating running. “If you’d just let me go, you’d be happier.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” I ball my hands to keep from touching her because I know it’s going to set her off more. “I…” I blow out an uneven breath, knowing that what I’m about to say is going to change everything, even if she won’t remember it in the morning. I will. I can’t go back from it and honestly I don’t f**king want to. “I f**king love you. Don’t you get that?” I unclench my hands and stretch my arm over to her, grabbing her arm as she shakes her head. “I love you.” My voice softens. “And no matter what happens, with you or me—with us—I’m always going to love you.”

Her shoulders start to heave and she gives in to my hold, allowing me to pull her over the console and onto my lap. Then I wrap my arm around her and cradle her head against my chest as she sobs into my wet shirt. I smoothe my hand down her head, each sob tearing at my heart. I stare out into the rain, watching it splash against the lake, feeling so helpless. I wish I could take all of her pain and guilt away. She doesn’t deserve this—she doesn’t deserve anything. What she does deserve is someone to love her unconditionally, which I’ve been trying to do for a while, if she’d just let me. I need to find a way.

“Micha.” The sound of her strained voice jerks me back to reality.

When I glance down at her, she’s looking up like she’s lost and has no idea where she is as she clutches onto my shirt. I know she’s probably going to fall asleep soon and when morning rolls around there’s a good chance she won’t remember any of this.

I trace a finger underneath her eyes, wiping the tears away. “Yeah, baby?”

She takes a deep breath and then she’s pulling on my shirt, forcing me to get close to her. “I love you, too,” she whispers and then she presses her lips against mine. She kisses me briefly, but it’s enough that I feel it all the way through me. I clutch on to her as I kiss her back with every ounce of emotion I have in me, wishing it could be just like this all the time. But just as quickly as it all began, it stops as she leans away and settles back in my arms. Moments later, she’s asleep.

I listen to the rhythm of her breathing and the longer I sit there holding her, the fiercer my heart beats, and no matter how hard I try to keep them back, eventually tears escape my eyes. My head falls forward against the steering wheel and I cry quietly through the sounds of the rain. Crying for her. For the life she was handed. Because I’m so in love with her it hurts me to see her like this. Because I know when morning comes, there’s a good chance she won’t remember this.

Because I’m afraid I’m going to lose her forever.

Chapter 11

Ella

When Micha finishes telling me what happened, I lay quietly on the bed with him, my head right over his heart. It’s beating faster than it normally does and I wonder if he’s feeling what he felt that night. The fear I put in him and whatever else was going through his head at the moment.

“I can’t remember any of that,” I say, looking up at him. “I think it was the combination of the pills and my… my anxiety. Things sometimes get blurry when I go to that place.”

“I know,” he says, staring down at me. “Like I said, I knew that night there would be a good chance you wouldn’t remember any of it. I just thought that I’d never see you again after it happened.”

Silence stretches between us as I struggle to remember and he struggles to forget.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him because it’s the only thing I can think of to say. There are no words that could possibly even begin to explain to him how bad I feel for putting him through that and for me doing it to begin with. It still hurts to even think about it, how I was about to throw everything away—everything I have with Micha now. “I really am.”

He moves me with him as he sits up. “You don’t have to be sorry for something that happened a few years ago—something that wasn’t even in your control.”

“Running away was.”

“You know, I thought so at first, but now I don’t think that’s entirely true. I think sometimes in life shit happens and people have to do what they can to move past it.” The corners of his mouth tug upward into a sad smile. “For you, that was running away and for me… with my father, it was deciding it was better to let him go.”

“But I came back.” I tuck my legs under me and kneel up between his legs. “Well, I came back for summer break because I had to, but now I’m back, for the most part.”

“I know.” His fingers spread across my cheek. “It’s called healing, Ella May.”

“I guess it is,” I agree. “But you wouldn’t let your father back into your life, even if he tried.”

His thumb grazes my bottom lip. “I’ve got everyone I need in my life. My mom. You. Even Ethan and Lila. That’s more than a lot of people have.” His hand leaves my lips and he threads his fingers through mine so the O-ring on his finger is pressed against my engagement ring. “Besides, I have you forever. And one day we’ll have our own family and that’s what will matter in the end.”

I’m not sure what kind of face I make, but he definitely notes a shift as I move to the edge of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, sitting up straight and sliding his long legs over the edge of the bed and his feet onto the floor.

I wanted to prepare myself for this talk, about our future, where we’re going, but now it’s kind of unavoidable because he said our own family… Shit. Does he mean kids and everything? “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“About what? Having you forever, or having a family of our own?”

“Um…” I swallow hard. “The last part.”

“About having a family.” He speaks slowly and cautiously like he’s afraid he’s going to scare me.

“Yeah, sort of…” I struggle to talk about a subject that makes me feel so uneasy. “I mean, where are we even going?”

He looks puzzled. “I’m not sure I’m following you, pretty girl.”

“Are we…” God, this is so difficult. “When you say family, are you… are you talking about having kids?”

He considers his next words wisely. “Not having kids right at this moment, but having them in the future, yeah.”

“And what if… what if I said I didn’t want to have kids?” I bring my feet back onto the bed and sit cross-legged.

He scratches his scruffy jawline as he brings his feet up on the bed and faces me, crisscrossing his legs. “It all depends on why you don’t want to have them, I guess.”

“So you do want to have them?” I’m a little surprised that he doesn’t even have to think about it.

His eyes search mine and then he definitively nods. “Not right now, but eventually way down the road.”

“And what if I said that way down the road I couldn’t see myself as a mother.” I chew on my lip nervously. “Then what?”

He slips his fingers through mine and holds both of my hands. “Why can’t you see yourself as a mother?”

I roll my eyes and pull one of my hands away to gesture at myself. “I think it’s sort of obvious.”

He looks genuinely perplexed. “No, not really.”

“Because of who I am.” I struggle for words. “Because of my problems. Because I don’t even know what being a mother entails. I mean, I had a few good moments growing up, but other than that I pretty much took care of my mother instead of the other way around.”

He wiggles his fingers from my hand, grabs my knees, and drags me closer to him. “Exactly, which is why I think you’ll make a great mom.”

“I think you’re wrong,” I disagree. “If anything, it’ll make me a very confused mom.”

His hands glide from my knees to my thighs and his fingers jab into my skin like he’s afraid to let me go. “No way. As much as I hate it, you took care of everyone in that household. You cooked. Cleaned. Paid the bills. Helped your mom take her medication. Stayed home and took care of her while your father went out to the bar every night acting like a teenager. At sixteen, Ella May, you were more responsible than a lot of thirty-year-olds.”

“I did stupid stuff, too,” I remind him. “I think you’re forgetting all the fights I got into, all the roofs I jumped off of, the many times I made you drive reckless and tested the boundaries of life.”

“You had to breathe somehow.”

I think about what he said, squirming because all this positive talk about me is making me uneasy. “You’re seriously freaking me out right now.”

“I know,” he says. “But it’s the truth. You’ll make an awesome mom if and when that time comes around.”

I eye him over with skepticism. “And what if it doesn’t? What if I say there’s just no way I can do it? What if I say that I just want to spend the rest of my life drawing and listening to you sing? Just you and I?”

“Then I guess it’ll be just you and I growing old together,” he says with a trace of a smile on his lips. “And I can live with that, too. I can live with anything just as long as you f**king marry me.” And with that, he gets to his feet. “This weekend. No more messing around.” He sticks out his hand and I take it, nodding.

He pulls me to my feet and we walk toward the door. “Although, I must say that we would make beautiful babies together.” He flashes me a cocky grin and I roll my eyes. “Imagine one with your hair and my amazing eyes.”

“You’re too cocky for your own good. Besides, I’d rather they had your hair and my eyes. I’ve never been a fan of the color.” My face twists in disgust I grab a few strands. “Although I love your eyes, too. Maybe she could just have your hair and eyes.”