Not What You Seem

by Lena Maye

  How is Dean?

  The ambulance had its siren blaring when it left the house. I hear the echo of his name around me at the station when they think I’m not listening. They’ve taken my phone. My one lifeline to see if Dean’s okay. And they won’t answer my question.

  I don’t know why. So when they give me back my phone and ask if I need a ride somewhere, I don’t even stop to answer. I run out the front door, my fingers dialing before it closes behind me.

  Renee answers on the first ring. “Are you okay? Where are you? What happened?”

  I ignore her stream of questions. I’ll answer them later.

  “Is Dean okay?” I ask, my heart beating in my throat.

  “He’s in surgery,” she says. “At the hospital in Upper Bay. The first bullet shattered his femur. Offset it, and they have to put it back. But the second just went through muscle.”

  My hand shakes so hard it’s difficult to hold the phone. “What does all that mean?”

  “He’s going to be fine,” she says quickly. “He’s injured, but he’s going to be fine.”

  I close my eyes, stopping on the sidewalk for a moment. The rush of emotion is too strong for my feet to keep pushing forward. Almost too strong to remain standing or for my heart to keep beating. This man that I am so deeply bound to—it’s like he’s the other half of my heartbeat.

  “We waited for you,” Renee says. “Dev’s driving us up there. Meet us at your apartment in five minutes.”

  That’s all it takes to get my feet moving again.

  A few minutes later, I’m sitting in the back of Dev’s car with Matty’s head on my lap. He looks up at me as I absently scratch his ears. His big, brown doggie eyes are filled with concern. Like the first time he came up to me sitting on the dock with my mother’s letter.

  I clear my throat, breaking the silence in the car. “Has anyone called Sebastian?”

  Renee glances at Dev and then looks back at me, shaking her head.

  “Thought I’d do it when we had more information,” Dev says.

  “No, he’d want to know now.” I sit up. Matty does the same and sets his head on my shoulder. “I’ll do it.”

  Renee hands me Dev’s phone, and I stare down at Sebastian’s name. Thinking of all that I have to tell him.

  I take a breath and dial.

  “Hey, man,” Sebastian answers.

  “It’s Ella.”

  “Oh. Hey, Ella. What’s up?”

  “Dean is…” I swallow back a tremble in my throat. “I have some news. Bad news.”

  “What happened? Just tell me.”

  He’s straightforward like his brother.

  “Dean’s hurt,” I say. “In the hospital. And your father is dead.”

  There’s a long pause on the other end of the line—so long I wonder if he’s still there. Then I hear shuffling.

  “What happened?” he asks. “Our father hurt him?”

  “No. He was shot by my mother.” I wring the bottom edge of my shirt. I threw on a clean one while waiting for Dev and Renee, but it’s like I can still see the blood splatter. As if I’ve looked into the sun for too long and the image is burned into my eyes. “She shot him because of me. It’s a long story, but I think you should come here. I think he needs—”

  “I’m already in my car.”

  I lean against Matty. “Good. You should be here. He’ll need someone.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He pauses. “But he has you too.”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t know if he’ll want…”

  “Want what?”

  “Me.” The word is so quiet. But Renee still turns from the front seat, watching me. I close my eyes so I can’t see her. Matty’s head is pressed against my shoulder. The leather in the back seat is hard against my back. The sound of Sebastian’s car engine winds through the phone.

  I know there are more pressing things to think about, but it’s a question I can’t stop asking.

  “Dean loves you,” Sebastian says. “My brother doesn’t place feelings so easily. He gets along with just about anyone. But love? That doesn’t come easily for either of us. I don’t know what happened. But trust me, he wants to see you. And, Ella? I need you there with him too.”

  “Okay.” I let out a shaky breath. “I’ll let you know the second I hear anything.”

  I answer as many of Sebastian’s questions as I can before disconnecting and copying his number from Dev’s phone to mine. And then I tuck around Matty and close my eyes for the rest of the ride.

  We sit in the waiting room for hours. My chair is metal with a maroon covering, and I pick at the edge of the fabric where a few strings stick out. I can’t stop myself—I just keep doing it. Pulling on them until they become longer. I ignore Benny’s calls and texts. I’m not ready to talk to him yet—not until I have an answer about Dean. Dev’s up at the counter, trying to get information. Renee’s outside with Matty.

  And I pick at the thread on the chair, staring at the white tile floor, and waiting for any hint of news.

  “Ella?”

  I jump and clutch my hands in my lap. Carly stands in front of me, breathless with brown hair curling everywhere. I blink, testing to make sure she’s really there.

  She reaches down to touch my shoulder, and then she’s sitting next to me, pulling me into a hug. Her hair smells like apples—just like it always did before. I grip her tightly, and tears squeeze from the corners of my eyes even though I’d been trying to hold them back.

  When she finally releases me, she tucks a wayward chunk of my hair behind my ear. Twice because it springs forward again.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” she says. “Because of the circumstances, I went to Anthony first.”

  “Anthony?”

  “He turned himself in. Walked into the police station not long after you left. Both he and your mother are in custody now.”

  “I can’t believe he turned himself in.” I chew on my bottom lip. “Did he really kill Charles?”

  “He entered a statement,” Carly says.

  Behind her, nurses laugh about something at their station. A phone rings. Feet clip along the tile hallway. I glance up to see if it’s about Dean, but the nurse continues past us.

  Carly takes my hand. “He says he wants to plead, but I’m hoping he’ll hold off until he’s thought about it more.”

  “Did my mother put him up to it?”

  “I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “He won’t be honest about it. If he doesn’t talk to me, then I’ll find another attorney. One he will talk to.”

  I nod. “He needs help, Carly. No matter what happens, we have to try. I don’t know what we can do, but—”

  “I’m not giving up on either of you.” She squeezes my hand.

  “Thank you.” I try to put all of the feelings I have into the two words. But I’m not sure it’s enough. That it will ever be enough. Dev nods toward the exit and goes to trade places with Renee. Carly holds onto my hand. Sebastian texted not long ago to say he’s on a flight here.

  And Dean. Somewhere in this hospital. Still breathing. And I know he’s still fighting because that’s who he is.

  For a girl who grew up feeling so alone and lost, I am surrounded by so much.

  Dean

  “Ella.” It’s the first word I say. The first word I think.

  I’m not even fully awake yet, but I hear myself mumbling it. I look groggily around the room for her. Instead, a man leans over me, his fingers clamped around my wrist. He counts and then sets my hand on the bed next to me. Bandages cover my forearms. Something’s wrapped tightly around my side. Everything is white and fuzzy and suffocating.

  “You’re just coming out of surgery,” he says. “We had to rebuild parts of your femur, but the surgery was a success.”

  “That’s good,” I choke out. My throat burns. My whole damn body burns. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was on fire. An IV is attached to the back of my arm, and it takes e
ffort not to rip it out.

  He holds out a cup of water with a straw in it, and I take it, drinking it all before handing it back.

  The water cools my throat enough to talk again. “Is Ella here?”

  “You shouldn’t have visitors yet. You need to rest.”

  “I need Ella.” I sit up, and a burst of pain ricochets from my side down to my knee, hitting every single tendon and nerve along the way. I hiss through it and swing my legs to the side of the bed. One obeys, but the other I have to move with my hand. The world spins, and the guy sets a hand on my shoulder. He probably thinks I’m an idiot for trying to get up.

  But I don’t care. I know exactly what I need. And if I can get out of that red chair, then I can get out of this bed.

  “Ella,” I repeat, firmer this time. Maybe he sees that I’m not going to give up—I’m about to rip out this IV and hop out of the room on one foot—because he nods and disappears out the door.

  And then she’s there. She stands in the doorway. Her eyes swollen and red. Her hands shaking. She’s got a slice along one cheek, and it worries me, but she seems okay otherwise. Her gaze flicks over me, taking in everything, and then she lets out a little gasp. But she’s not moving. Why isn’t she crossing to me?

  I reach out toward her, trying to move, but grimacing when the pain hits me again. And then she’s in my arms. She’s kissing me—my lips, my jaw, my forehead. She’s finally kissing me.

  I pull her onto the bed next to me, ignoring the pain and tangle of tubing hooked to me, and I hold on to her. I breathe in her strawberry-sweet scent, her warmth and kindness. Fuck, tears well in my eyes. I don’t even try to blink them away.

  She pulls back a little. “I’m so sorry.” Her bottom lip trembles. “What I did. How I hurt you.” She stares at my chest. Normally I take her attention on my bare chest as a good sign. Not right now.

  I tip up her chin so those dark eyes are on me.

  “You saved me. It was like I was drowning, and you pulled me out of the water.” My thumb rubs the streak of flour that I wanted to wipe away earlier today. It’s cut with tears now, but I wipe all of it away. “I guess I needed a hero.”

  And this woman is exactly that. My fucking hero. She’ll never know how much I needed her. I didn’t know how much. How alone and angry I was. Not until she showed me the other side.

  “We’re not them, Ella.” I clear my throat, my voice gruff. “I’m not my father and you’re not your mother. All those things that happened so long ago—what he did to her or what she did to him—it doesn’t have to be part of us anymore. We can just let it go.”

  She meets my gaze, and I smile a little. Maybe a strange reaction, but now that she’s here, I can’t stop myself. I pull her head down against my chest, and her hair tickles my jaw.

  She entwines her fingers with mine, her cheek warm against my chest. “You’re not the only one who needed a hero.”

  I squeeze her hand. I’m so gone for this woman. A thousand percent over the edge. I’d do anything for her. Travel any distance. Even around the world.

  As long as she goes with me.

  45

  Ella

  I stop before the steps to the old Victorian house Benny and Laura own. I remember sitting with Renee on the long, worn steps. It must have been a few weeks after I came to live with them, and Renee was telling me about Portage. From a teenaged-girl perspective, at least. How there was this guy she knew that threw the best parties over the summer—defined by liquor and hot guys—while his parents were off sailing. How there was this lake not far away where we could go skinny dipping while her parents were at the bakery.

  Then she’d sat up suddenly. “I meant our parents.” And she smiled this wide smile that I hadn’t learned how to do yet.

  “I’ve always wanted a sister,” she told me.

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say. The world was such a blur of things that didn’t make sense. My mother arrested. My brother a runaway. I was suddenly living with a father I didn’t know and a family I’d never met. And here was the girl saying that we were sisters.

  It was terrifying. I never understood why she’d want to be part of me. Part of the horror my mother had handed me. The echo, the legacy. I had a thousand different names for it.

  But staring at those steps now. The place where we had sat so long ago. Maybe she was the one who saw clearly.

  I’m not my mother. I’m not my brother. Not a legacy or an echo or anything.

  I’m just me. Ella.

  And I’m tired of things unsaid. Secrets, lemon truths and buttermilk lies.

  Something I said to Renee when I told her I was calling a family meeting.

  I walk up the steps and knock on the door. I haven’t been into this house since I was here with Dean. I’ve hardly talked to Benny since then—passing by each other silently as we trade shifts at the bakery. Didn’t even call to talk to them after my mother’s escape. I assume Renee told them what happened. Or they read it in the news.

  A long minute passes, and I check the time on my phone. Crap, did I get the wrong day?

  Then Laura opens the door. She’s got a walker, but also a smile. I embrace her before walking into the kitchen to find Renee and Benny already at the yellow-and-blue-flowered table. The rich smell of herbs always makes the house feel so alive. I’ve missed being in this house.

  I glance back to Laura. “Of the three of you, you’re the one who has to answer the door?”

  “I told them I wanted to.” She slowly sits, her smile fading. “That I don’t need everyone taking care of me so much.” She glances at Benny and raises a determined eyebrow.

  He sits across from me, his hands on the table. “Ella—”

  I shake my head. “I called this family meeting. I’m going to talk first.”

  He shifts uncomfortably, and Renee’s eyes widen. But I ignore it all. I’m done being the silent family member.

  I take a breath. “The truth is hard.” I turn to look at Laura. “But I think it’s time for all of us to tell it.”

  She nods. I think she already knew what I came here to say. She probably knew it the minute she saw that my mother had returned to Portage.

  “No,” Benny says. “It’s too much.”

  “It’s not.” Laura shakes her head, staring him down. “It’s my story. And it’s time that I tell it.”

  And then she does. In short, simple sentences, she tells about Mira and Charles. About what happened to her in that bar. I grip onto the table and listen. Benny’s across from me with an ashen face. I can tell he wants to go to her, but he does what she asks and stays in his seat. And Renee cries so hard that I worry she might break apart.

  Laura tells her the same thing she told me. That there’s no easy path through. We’ve got to take the help where we find it and keep stepping forward. The strength in Laura makes my eyes fill with tears. All that she’s been through, and she just keeps moving forward—looking for her path and her answers. It gives me hope.

  When Laura ends, I take over the story. Telling them about Anthony and me helping Charles out of that house. About Dean and how he made the memories come back. But how he also gave me something else—courage to finally face those memories.

  Benny tells Renee about how he chased me out of the house. His fingers rattle against the table as he recounts shoving it at me. There’s still so much tension between us. Maybe that tension will never be gone, but him being honest about it was a tiny step.

  After a long minute digesting Benny’s words, Renee tells us she’s been seeing some doctors up in Upper Bay. Laura and Benny both start demanding to know more. Renee repeats that it’s nothing serious, but there’s concern under her smile. I reach for her hand and tell her that I’m going to her next appointment with her. Putting me off is not an option.

  We talk for hours. Laura asks about Dean’s recovery and when she gets to meet him. Soon, I promise.

  It’s almost dark by the time Renee walks me to the door. We st
and on the top step, looking out at the tree-lined street that’s studded with only a few porch lights. There are no more secrets between us.

  I hope.

  I turn towards her. “Why didn’t you tell me about the doctor’s appointments? And don’t say you didn’t want to worry me. You know I would have wanted to be there for you.”

  “I know.” She wrinkles her nose. “I just didn’t want to interrupt anyone’s life.”

  “It’s not an interruption.”

  “I know that too.” She sighs, her hair floating in the light breeze. “But I’m fine for now, which is all any of us can say. I just want you to live your life. With Dean. And whatever you may or may not decide to do. I want you to make the choice for you.”

  I eye her. “What are you talking about? Is this another set up of some kind? I thought we were done with secrets.”

  She laughs. “Well, not all secrets. Some are good, fun secrets. And I promise to tell you if I need something.”

  “Okay.” But I keep eyeing her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Nope.” She shakes her head. “You’ll know what I’m talking about later.”

  “Hmm….” I contemplate the quiet evening, musing on the possibilities.

  “I used to envy you,” she says, breaking into my thoughts. “When I was younger and you came to live with us. You seemed like you’d seen so much and been to all these places. I didn’t understand until later what that meant. Or how hard it must have been to have Mira as your mother. The things you must have thought about yourself.”

  I nod and wait for her to finish. Because I know what’s coming.

  “You know, I’m pretty good at math.” She takes my hand in hers.

  “I know you are.” I squeeze her fingers.

  She turns toward me. “Benny’s not my father, is he?”

  I shake my head. “I think that’s why he was so desperate to keep it from you.”

  She nods, sucking in a deep breath and blowing it out through her nose.

  “It doesn’t make you someone else, Renee.” I fight for the right words. “Just because—”