“I don’t feel guilty,” he assures me over banging in the background. “I’m glad last night happened. The note and the song were my way of sending you a message.”

Bending down, I pick up an empty beer carton and toss it into the bag, then tie it shut and drop it outside the front door, leaving the door open to grab my purse, which is near the television. “What message?”

“That’s for you to figure out.”

“And what if I can’t figure it out?”

“You will,” he responds. “But whether or not you say it out loud is a whole other story.”

He’s right. I already have it figured out, but saying it out loud is something I can’t quite do.

“You’re being very cryptic.” Stepping outside into the warm sunshine, I shut the front door and drag the garbage bag down the stairs with the bottles clinking together. At the bottom, my eyes scan the parking lot. “How am I supposed to get home?”

“You could stay there until I get home,” Micha offers. “Or better yet, you could just move in.”

My lungs compress, reducing the flow of oxygen as his heavy words crumble my mood. “I have to get home. I have a class tonight.”

“Since when do you have class at night?” he questions. “Are you just saying that because of my little moving-in remark?”

I don’t bother picking up the bag as I trudge toward the Dumpster and heave it inside. “No, I really have class,” I lie. “I’ll call you a little bit later, okay? I need to find a ride home.”

“Alright.” His tone is clipped. “I’ll talk to you later, I guess.”

He hangs up before I can and it leaves me feeling hollow, like a part of me has been removed. Shaking the sensation away, I punch Lila’s number into the keypad.

“Well, look who decided to finally wake up,” she answers with humor radiating from her voice. “Did you do the walk of shame?”

“Micha and I didn’t have sex, Lila,” I respond in a snippy voice and then, feeling terrible, apologize. “I’m sorry. I’m just hungover or something. And I need to get home and lay down, but I don’t have a ride.”

“You could take the bus.” She pops a bubble into the phone. “Although I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“How did you get home?” I press my fingertips to the brim of my nose as my headache from hell surges.

“Ethan gave me a ride.” A door slams and I hear keys hit the counter. “I was actually just out to lunch with Parker.”

“I thought you were done with him.”

“Hey, he insisted.”

I start toward the exit that is situated near a brick wall. “Alright, I’ll track down a bus.”

“God luck with that. And watch out for the licker,” she jokes with an evil laugh. “Keep your elbows tucked in and stay away from the back of the bus.”

“Ha-ha, you’re a freaking riot,” I say derisively. “Talk to you later.”

I drag my exhausted legs toward the Starbucks at the corner of the street. After I have some caffeine in my system, my brain turns back on. But by the time I reach the apartment and recollect what made me drink that much in the first place, all I want to do is go to my room, turn the lights off, and sleep for an eternity. The letter from my dad still lies on the coffee table, unopened.

“Are you ever going to open that?” Lila appears in the doorway, dressed in a blue dress and heels that match. Her blonde hair is curled around her face and pinned by a few diamond barrettes.

Slipping off my sandals, I drop down on the couch and stare at the white envelope addressed to me. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Clipping an earring in, she sits down beside me on the couch. “Ella, can I ask you something?”

I shrug and cross my feet up on the table. “I guess.”

She picks up the letter and flips it over to the back. “What are you so afraid of? With this letter? With Micha? With life?”

“Feeling it all—losing it all,” I say and her face twists. “It’s nothing. I’m just not sure what my dad is going to say and it kind of worries me.”

Lila doesn’t know about what happened with my mother. She knows she passed away, but not the circumstances leading to her death. Only my dad, Dean, and Micha know that haunting secret and I plan on keeping it that way.

I tear the envelope, taking a deep breath, and unfold the paper, telling myself that I can handle whatever’s in there. That I’m stronger than I used to be.

Ella May,

I want to start off by saying I’m sorry for everything. And I mean that. I’ve been sober for almost a month now and they took me off the meds. My head’s clear and I don’t like what’s in it, especially everything related to you.

My therapist had me write down everything I regretted in therapy yesterday and it all seemed to be about you. It was like we all piled our garbage on you to clean up and it never should have been that way. The more I wrote, the more I realized you never really had a childhood. All those times I spent at the bar, I was being nothing but selfish. I’m a terrible father who put everything on his daughter, for no other reason than I didn’t want to be an adult.

That night was not your fault. You were seventeen and I was the adult. I should have been home with her, but Jack Daniels was much more important and easier to deal with.

I knew how bad she was, more than you’ll ever understand, and deep down I knew I was wrong when I left you in charge that night. Now that my head is clear, I can imagine how hard it must be for you to deal with. All the pain you have to be feeling. I keep thinking about the pain in your eyes the last time I saw you and it eats away at me.

I’m sorry, Ella. For ruining you childhood, for taking away your happiness, and just for messing up your fucking future.

I love you.

Dad

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” My hands shake as I clutch the letter in my hand. Tears pour out of my eyes as I force my lungs to breathe in and out as a wall around me crashes to the ground.

Chapter 15

Micha

I don’t know why I got so pissed off at Ella this morning on the phone, other than sometimes things between us feel hopeless. I love her and I know she loves me, but sometimes I don’t think she does as much. It hurts when I analyze it.

That night, I pack and go to bed early, feeling down that Ella isn’t coming with me. We’ve spent the holidays together every single year since we were five. It was the only way to celebrate, since her family was never really into it and my mom couldn’t afford to do much. She tried though, by decorating the house and making Ella and me a nice breakfast. She’d always wrap a few presents up for the both of us. It wasn’t much, but it was still nice.

Long after I fall asleep, my phone wakes me up. My hand fumbles across my nightstand, knocking over the lamp, until it finally brushes my phone. Still half alive, I blink my eyes into focus and see Ella’s names on the screen.

I answer it quickly. “What’s wrong?”

She sounds hoarse. “Can you come let me in? I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and wake Ethan up.”

“You’re at my house?” I rub my eyes and check the time on the clock.

“Yeah, I’m standing in front of the door.”

I stumble out of bed and hurry to the door in my boxers, with the phone still held up to my ear. Flipping the porch light on, I swing open the door. The light hits her swollen eyes and the red streaks on her cheeks from the dried-up tears. She’s wearing a pair of striped shorts, with flip-flops on her feet, and her hair is pulled up in a messy bun. She has no bra on under the thin tank top she’s wearing and I can see her nipples through the fabric.

“What are you doing?” I haul her inside the house to hide her barely covered body away from the eyes of anyone else. Her skin is ice cold and she’s shivering. “Did you walk here?”

She shakes her head and hugs her arms around herself. “No, I took the bus.”

My gaze skims her bare legs and her perky nipples. “Dressed like that?”

She shrugs and sinks down into the couch, grasping an envelope in her hand. “There was hardly anyone on it.”

Turning the lamp on, I sit down on the couch and put my arm around her shoulder, desperate to make her feel better. “What happened? And what’s that in your hand?”

She gives me the crinkled envelope with her name and address on it. “This came in the mail yesterday.”

I turn it over, noting that she’s opened and read whatever is inside. “Who’s it from?”

She taps the return address with her finger. “It’s from my dad.”

Shit. “What did he say?”

She stares at the floor, her eyes enlarged. “That he was sorry and that what happened to my mom wasn’t my fault. That it was his because he was the adult and he never should have left that kind of responsibility on a child. That he should have been home taking care of his family instead of at the bar… and that he loves me.” Tears flood her eyes and stream down her cheeks as her breathing becomes erratic. “I’ve wanted him to say that forever.”

The ache in her voice almost makes me cry. She climbs onto my lap and buries her face into my chest, sobbing as she clutches desperately onto me. I scoop her up in my arms and carry her back to my bedroom where I lie down with her.

With each tear shed, she steals more of my heart, until she owns it completely. I realize that even through the hard times I’m sure we’ll face, I’ll never be able to walk away from her.

I wake up with Ella’s head pressed into the crook of my neck and her arms clasped firmly around my waist, as if she feared I’d sneak off in the middle of the night.

She bawled her eyes out until she passed out and my heart nearly broke in two. Even though it makes me feel horrible, I sometimes hate her fucking family. They took a beautiful girl who was full of life and who could have done amazing things and crushed her into pieces. Although she’s fixable—I can see that now—she is still so broken and vulnerable.