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

I touch his arm lightly. “Micha?”

He stiffens under my touch. “Yeah.”

“I want to marry you more than I’ve wanted to do anything else in my life,” I say, turning him so that he’s facing me, even though he’s got his head tipped down. “And yes, I know that sounds super cheesy, but it’s true so…” I trail off as he leans in toward me.

“Even after everything you’ve been reading?” he asks, his hand cupping the side of my neck.

I nod and his mouth covers mine. I part my lips as his tongue devours me in a deep, passionate kiss, his fingers knotting through my hair, tugging at the roots, forcing my head back. When he pulls away he looks high on the kiss, eyes glazed, pupils wide, and I love him for it.

“There is something I want to talk to you about,” I tell him, because I know it’s time to ask questions that need to be asked. To have the talk about where we’ll be in a few years, what our plans are for the future. “But let’s do it after we tell my mom and your dad that we’re getting married.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his fingers unraveling through my hair.

“I’m sure,” I say. “Besides, if we don’t get this whole wedding announcement thingy out in the open there isn’t going to be a wedding, at least one that people can go to.”

“Where are we going to have it?”

“I don’t know,” I say, and I don’t. Even when I was little, I never imagined getting married. In fact, when I thought about it, I thought about how much I didn’t want it. I watched my mother and father fight too much, be miserable, fall apart, our household always on the verge of cracking until one day it shattered completely. But I’ve changed. And it doesn’t matter where it takes place or what I’m wearing. I just want Micha there with me and I’m good. “In your backyard?” I suggest. “I mean, a lot of stuff happened in the backyard.”

His sucks on his lip ring, contemplating. “Yeah, a lot of things did, but a lot of things happened at our spot, too, so how about up by the lake. It’s where we first said we loved each other, even if you don’t remember it.”

“Won’t it be cold?”

“Does it really matter?”

He has a point, but I still frown at the floor, my heart knotting in my chest as I remember the night on the bridge and how I almost jumped into the water. How Micha saved me. How I kissed him afterward to silence the three words I knew he was going to utter, words I can’t get enough of now. I remember turning to leave, ready to bolt from him and my feelings, and then the rest of the night is only broken pieces in my mind because of the mixture of adrenaline and anxiety in my body, along with the pills I took from my mother’s stash. Rain drops splashing against the asphalt. Puddles covering the ground. Water like black ink. Silver lightning blazing across the midnight sky. Micha’s intoxicating warmth. “You never did tell me exactly what happened.” I glance up at him. “Would… would you tell me what happened? I want to know what happened the night I first told you I loved you.”

He looks at me for what feels like an eternity, assessing me as he contemplates what I’ve asked. Then instead of walking out of the room like I fear, he pulls me down onto the bed with him and wraps his arms around me. “Absolutely. I’ll always give you whatever you want.”

Chapter 10

Two and a half years earlier…

Micha

Rain hammers down from the sky and slams against the charcoal asphalt, soaking my jeans and T-shirt. Lightning zaps across the sky and thunder booms, reverberating through the metal beams around and above the bridge. My lips are numb from the cold air, Ella’s kiss, and the fact that she’s walking away from me.

“Ella May, don’t you dare run away from this,” I yell as I jog after her, my boots splashing against the puddles.

She’s having a hard time walking, veering from left to right as the rain drenches her jeans, shirt, and hair. The beams of the headlights from my car parked in the center of the bridge light up the darkness and makes her looks like a shadow. “Micha, just leave me alone. Please.” She trips over her feet and falls to the ground. I don’t know if it’s from the pills she took, if she’s been drinking, if it’s the combination of the two, or the simple fact that she’s having a panic attack.

I speed up and wrap my arms around her waist. As I help her to her feet, she wiggles her arms and tries to jab me with her elbows, attempting to shove me away.

“Just let me go!” she cries and I hear a sob in her voice. It splits my heart into pieces because she never cries. Ever. The pain she’s feeling… God, I can’t even think about it. “Please just let me go.”

“No,” I say as I support her weight in my arms and help her back to my car. “I’m never going to let you go. Don’t you get that?”

Holding on to her with one hand, I maneuver the passenger door open as rain continues to drown us. I put my hand over her head and help her duck down into the car. Once she’s sitting in the seat and the door is shut, I feel slightly better, the crushing weight in my chest lighter. Not gone, but lighter than when I pulled up and found her standing on the edge of the bridge.

I blink through the rain as I look over at the beam Ella was balancing on and then at the dark water below. “God damn it!” I curse and kick the tire as I yank my fingers through my wet hair. How did everything turn this shitty? How could a beautiful, smart, wildly wonderful girl be handed so many shitty f**king cards. She’s spent most of her life taking care of her parents, and then her mother takes her own life and her father blames her. Why does she have to deal with this? Why can’t something good finally happen to her?

I have no idea how to handle this, but I know I have to try. Forcing my feet to move around the front of the car, I get into the driver’s seat and slam the door. “It’s f**king cold in here,” I say, cranking up the heat as my wet clothes soak the leather seat.

She doesn’t look at me, keeping her forehead against the window and her hands lifelessly on her lap as rain drips from her hair onto her cheeks. “I can’t feel anything,” she mumbles.

My heart sinks inside my chest and I have to take a slow breath before I speak. “Baby, put your seat belt on.”

She shakes her head, her eyes shutting. “I… can’t…” She sounds exhausted, on the verge of passing out.

I lean over and reach across the front of her. When I grab the seat belt, she doesn’t budge even when I pull it over her chest. As I’m buckling her in, she abruptly shifts her weight toward me. The seat belt clicks into the lock as she rests her forehead against mine, her skin as cold as the rain outside.

“You almost… you almost said you love me…” Her warm breath hits my skin as her eyes stay shut.

“I know.” I swallow hard, but I’m still afraid to move and break the connection between us. Water drips down my forehead, across my lips, and runs from my hand as I move my fingers away from the buckle and to her hip.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” she whispers.

“I know,” I say, my fingers shaking as I hold onto her.

Her shoulder turns inward and presses into mine as she slumps more of her weight into me. “Did you… did you mean it?”

I slowly nod without leaning away, causing friction between our foreheads. “More than anything.”

“Micha I…” she starts and my chest aches for her to say it. Just say it please. But then her forehead is leaving mine and she’s moving back toward the door. “I’m really tired,” she whispers, slumping her head against the window again.

I gradually inhale and then release, trying to steady my erratic heart. It takes more than a few breaths to get me to where I can even speak again. “I’ll take you home.”

“No, not home,” she utters. “Somewhere else… I hate home…”

I turn forward in my seat and watch the raindrops crash down against the hood and windshield. “Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere that will make me happy,” she says and flinches when thunder booms.

Placing my hands on top of the steering wheel, I shut my eyes. Some place that will make her happy? I’m not sure a place like that exists at the moment, but I have to try. Opening my eyes back up, I shove the shifter into reverse and back up off the bridge. When I reach the end, I put it into drive and crank the wheel, turning the car around.

The road is flooded with puddles and the windshield wipers are cranked on high as I drive away from the bridge. Every time the thunder and lightning snaps, I jump, but Ella stays still, nearly motionless. When she does move, it’s only to mess around with the iPod. She skims through the song list forever, her fingers fumbling over the buttons. She keeps shivering but when I ask her if she’s cold she shakes her head. Finally she selects a song: “This Place Is a Prison,” by The Postal Service. Then she slouches back in the seat, leans her head back against the headrest, and stares at the ceiling as the song plays through the speakers.

I continue to drive until I reach the side road that weaves out to a secluded area surrounded by trees and nestled near the edge of the lake. The road is a muddy mess and I’m worried that we’re going to get stuck. But somehow I manage to make it to our spot, the one Ella and I always go to be alone—to be with each other. I park the car so it’s facing the dark water and leave the headlights on. The water ripples against the raindrops as the wipers move back and forth across the windshield.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” I finally say, not staring at the lake.

“I’m thinking I should have jumped,” she says emotionlessly.

Something snaps inside me and I lose it. “No, you f**king don’t!” I ram my fist against the top of the wheel and she jumps, lifting her head up, and stares at me with wide eyes. “You don’t want to be dead, so stop saying it.” My voice softens as I reach over and tuck strands of wet hair behind her ear. “You’re just confused.”

“No, I’m not,” she protests. “I know exactly what I’m thinking.” But I can tell she doesn’t by the glossiness of her eyes, the vastness of her pupils, and the fact that she’s struggling to keep her eyelids open. “I don’t want to be here anymore, Micha.”

“With me?” I choke, cupping her cheek.

She swallows hard, her eyes scanning mine. “I don’t know.”

“But I thought you knew exactly what you were thinking?” I say, not sure if I’m going about this the right way, but it’s the only way I know how.

“All I know is that I don’t want to feel this.” She slams her hand over her chest, a little too hard. Her eyes are wildly big, filled with fear and panic as her chest heaves for air. “I don’t want to feel all this pain and guilt.”

“What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault.” I place a very unsteady hand over hers, worried I’m going to f**k this up. I’m stunned by how rapidly her heart is beating, thrashing against our hands. She’s probably got so much adrenaline pouring through she’s lightheaded.