by Julie Cross
“And you’ve already learned your lines. Got a ring yet?” I press.
He grins and then glances into the kitchen, checking to make sure Harper isn’t listening. “Maybe.”
“Hopefully you didn’t hide it anywhere in this apartment because after yesterday, it’s likely she either found it or lost it. Or both.”
“I’m not an idiot.” Aidan roughs up my hair as Harper appears with two mugs of coffee, and the conversation is over.
More than anything, I would love to ask Aidan if he’s part of this St. Felicity’s Shelter. I’ve been going back and forth on this all night. On one hand, Aidan is the noble do-gooder type who will break the law for the greater good. But on the other hand, it sounds like members of St. Felicity’s pledge their duty to the group over anything else. Aidan will always put Harper first.
I don’t ask Aidan any of this, because Miles has taught me that some things really are on a need-to-know basis and people’s lives are at stake.
I curl up in the corner of the couch, enjoying my warm sweats and the blanket Harper offers me. I just sit there and listen to Aidan and my sister talk, watch her curl up with him and finally close her eyes.
My family might be small now, but there’s enough love and loyalty right here to fill the entire world.
When Harper dozes off, Aidan elbows me and says, “I still can’t believe Miles broke into the Gilberts’ place with you. Can’t believe you two have been running around playing teenage detective duo right under my nose. I thought you hated him?”
“How could you not notice them?” Harper mutters, her eyes still closed. “I lost count of the number of tracking devices that boy planted on people.”
“What?” Aidan and I say together. Aidan adds, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Harper tightens her arm around Aidan, giving him a squeeze. “I thought you knew, thought he was just going through a phase. Isn’t that what boys do?”
“Um, no,” Aidan says, laughing. “You know what? I’ve caught nearly all the Becketts doing some strange things, but they’re good people. Let’s just leave them to do their thing and not ask questions.” He looks at me. “I take it you don’t hate Miles anymore?”
“Hate?” Harp says. “She’s totally in love with him.”
“Am not,” I say automatically, but Harper hears the lie. I look down at my hands. “But no, I don’t hate him. The real question is, does he hate me?”
My sister pries her eyes open long enough to give me a sympathetic look. “He knows?”
I nod. “I told him right after Aidan was dragged out of here. He didn’t take it well.”
“But then he saved your life,” Harper points out.
“Yeah…true.” I leave the topic alone, not wanting to ruin the celebration. I wait for Harper to fall asleep again, and I elbow Aidan in the side. “Your babies are going to be beautiful.”
His forehead wrinkles, but he laughs. “Thanks?”
“Just wait until I’m long gone.”
Aidan pats my knee. “Done.”
...
A knock coming from somewhere in my room pulls me from sleep. I sit up, my heart racing, my eyes scanning every dark corner of the bedroom. Then I spot the shadow at the window. I rush over and open it. Miles lifts his sling a few inches. “Can’t make the jump like this. But I figured the sentiment was still there.”
I smile at him, my insides warming. I give him a hand getting inside. “You’re using the door to get out. No breaking any more bones.”
The joke was me testing the waters. Seeing if I need to deal with us being friendly and nothing more. But one look at Miles’s face and it’s clear he’s here to discuss serious matters.
“What?” I press. “Any word on Jack? Is Bret in trouble for the pictures and working with Jack? What about Rider and that other rifle guy?”
Miles shakes his head, his face tense. “Bret went in to the field office for questioning. But they found nothing at the cabin where we were held. No trace of Jack or Rider.”
My stomach turns. I never asked Clyde where he shot Jack. I assumed he killed him, but maybe not.
“I talked to my dad about it,” Miles says. “He said an organization like St. Felicity’s doesn’t take any chances. They cover their tracks, even when it’s members who betrayed them. It’s likely they took care of the three who held us themselves and cleaned up the mess.”
So Jack is likely dead. I swallow back that thought and turn to Miles again. It’s obvious he hadn’t come for that. Or at least not only that.
“I need you to tell me something, Ellie.”
I stand awkwardly in the middle of my bedroom. “I’ll try.”
“Do you still want to do it?” he asks. “Steal from people. Cheat. Do you stop yourself only out of fear of getting caught? I need to know who you really are under all the costumes and the glimpses of real feelings I’ve seen.”
So he doesn’t doubt my feelings for him, only my morality in general. I’m not sure which is worse.
I shake my head. “That’s impossible to answer—”
“No, it’s not,” he argues. “You are either someone who can take things that don’t belong to you for personal gain. Or you aren’t.”
“That question isn’t fitting for someone who knows how to con. I can take things that don’t belong to me. What you really want to know is if am I compelled to.” I wait a few seconds, and then he nods. “The other problem with that question is that personal gain is relative. Am I greedy? Do I want to be as rich as most of the kids at Holden Prep? No. Does that mean I won’t ever cheat someone out of money or something of value again? No.”
His face falls. That was the wrong answer.
“Here’s an example… Let’s say Harper got sick,” I tell him. “She has cancer and we don’t have insurance. I’ve got enough experience in insurance fraud to know how to work the system. I could get her fully covered for free. And yes, I would do it if there were no other options. In a heartbeat. And I wouldn’t feel an ounce of guilt.”
That isn’t completely true. I would probably feel a little guilt, because Harper would tell me not to do it and I’d do it anyway.
He’s silent, thinking.
“Maybe that was a bad example. Or just an extreme example. My sister isn’t sick and we do have insurance. Maybe we should just cross those moral bridges when we get to them,” I suggest, not expecting him to buy into that plan.
“Mr. Lee always told me that I have a gift for seeing into people’s souls. Seeing if it’s pure or not. I guess it’s ancient Chinese belief or maybe a fairy tale, I don’t know.” Miles sets a hand on my waist and slides it up my back. “Until you told me about your past, all I could see in you was good. And honestly, it’s still all I see.”
I lean into him, my eyes burning. I bury my face in his neck. “Was that a conclusion on your end, or are you just trying to figure out if your soul-seeing superpower deactivated?”
He laughs. “I’m not sure.”
“I guess I can’t really answer your question. I’m not a hundred percent sure what my soul is made of yet.” I lift my head, look at him. “But if we can’t— If you’re not part of my life…” I sniff and force back the tears, trying to cover it up with a laugh. “We’re so different, but you’re also my equal in a lot of ways. It’s challenging and exhilarating and—”
Miles’s mouth crashes against mine. His hand is in my hair, on my face. I’m drowning in him. Finally, he pulls away, both of us breathless. His forehead rests against mine. “Don’t let me down, Ellie.”
Nerves flutter in my stomach, but I nod. I need this. Not just Miles, but something real and valuable to drive me in the right direction. A moral compass.
“You’re still leaving, aren’t you?” My heart sinks at the thought of the apartment next door empty again.
He nods and heads for the window despite my orders for him to use the door. He swings a leg outside and turns to me, giving me his most real smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll
be around. Someone needs to continue your self-defense education.”
I shake off the thought of me and Miles rolling on the wrestling mats. His shoulder will need to heal first. “Funny how you were all worried about Davey and it ended up—”
His face tightens. “Not a mistake I’ll make again. Ever.”
I lean down and kiss him until both of us are out of air. “Go, before your parents send out another Amber Alert.”
He nods but gives me one more kiss. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”
“Definitely.” I use my shirt to dry the tears from my face. “Mostly. Probably…”
“Promise you’ll call me the second you need something?” Miles says, and then he waits for me to nod.
After he’s out the window and gone, I close it slowly, feeling the weight of his absence. Again. But there’s hope now. Because I’m not hiding anything from him anymore. And it’s one of the best feelings ever. Maybe it will be too hard, but maybe it will be amazing.
A few seconds later, my phone buzzes.
MILES: check ur pockets
I reach into the pocket of my pajama shorts and remove what feels like a paper card. I flip the lamp on so I can see and then gasp at the sight of the blue card with “Eleanor Virginia Ames” written across the front. And a nine-digit number above the name.
A Social Security card.
ME: how?
MILES: I know a guy…
ME: Miles!!
MILES: kidding. Totally legal. Just had to press the right buttons
ME: u r kind of amazing
MILES: this girl on the card? I looked her up. She’s got a perfect record.
I smile down at the card. I wonder when he slipped this in my pocket? Before or after he decided to believe in me? But I have a feeling Miles wouldn’t have crawled in my window tonight if he hadn’t already put his faith in me.
Now it’s up to me to be this girl on the card. To believe in myself.
Don’t miss these other thrilling reads from
Julie Cross
Things are heating up
between Ellie and Miles in the
second book in the Eleanor Ames series.
Coming Fall 2017
If you loved Ellie and Miles, you won’t want to miss Annie and Jason in Whatever Life Throws at You.
Available now!
Coming in January 2017, chill out with Julie Cross’s new hockey series.
Acknowledgments
First off, I’d like to thank my editor Liz Pelletier, who introduced me to Veronica Mars, helped create the concept for this series, and gave me the freedom to make it my own. My agent, Nicole Resciniti, for always having a new plan in the works for me. Roni Loren, my best writer friend, thank you for the much-needed brainstorm sessions. Thanks to some amazing Entangled team members: Stacy Abrams, Heather Riccio, Christine Chhun, and Melissa Montovani to name a few.
Thanks to my family for their constant support, especially my husband, Nick, and my kids, Charles, Ella, and Maddie, because it can’t be easy living with a writer. And lastly, thanks to my readers, new and those of you who have followed me to every pocket of YA/NA literature.
About the Author
Julie Cross lives in Central Illinois with her husband and three children. She’s a former gymnast and longtime gymnastics fan, coach, and former gymnastics program director with the YMCA. She’s a lover of books, devouring several novels a week, especially in the young adult and new adult genres. Outside of her reading and writing credentials, Julie is a committed—but not talented—long-distance runner, creator of imaginary beach vacations, Midwest bipolar-weather survivor, and expired CPR certification card holder, as well as a ponytail and gym-shoe addict.
www.juliecrossbooks.com
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