Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Ella
Old Money - Lana Del Rey
H e had to leave.
We were kissing, and he pushed me against the mirror. He slid his hand under my chiffon skirt and pulled my tights down. And when he pushed two fingers inside me, his phone rang. It was the hospital.
And now here I am, hours later, standing at the reception with flowers in my hand because Thomas Murray’s state has deteriorated. I’m an idiot for doing this. I didn’t follow him when he left, but I’m here to check up on him. I’m an idiot for so many reasons.
What if Chris wants to be alone with his family? What if Megan is here?
Being here shows I care on a whole new level. Mainly, it shows Chris has made progress in getting me back. I hate that…but it’s also the truth.
“Family only,” the receptionist tells me. “Are you family? ”
I pinch my lower lip and nod. When she still doesn’t give me his room number, I say. “Future daughter-in-law.”
A disgusting lie that tastes kind of nice.
She looks down at her laptop and says, “His son gave us a list of names. What’s yours?”
Should I lie again? It would be taking it too far to impersonate Megan. And what if she’s seen Megan before? What the hell did I just get myself into?
“Ella Baker,” I croak. Let’s get this over with.
Her eyes go from left to right, and she nods. “Room 294.”
My mouth drops open, and I’m about to double-check if I’m on the list, but stop myself short. I’ll just go.
He’s alone in the room, sitting by the bed, facing his father. Even though he’s unconscious, Chris is reading to him. One hand holding the book, one resting on his dad’s forearm, I can hear his deep voice even from behind the door, looking through the small window like a creep.
I take a deep breath, both my hands gripping the vase with the flowers and the get well soon card.
One pearl at a time, Ella.
I knock, wait for him to call me in, and push the door open.
He looks up from the book, his eyebrows rising and his face freezing. That’s shock, if I’ve ever seen it.
He doesn’t say anything, suffering a rare case of speechlessness. So, for once, I take the wheel.
“I’m on the list,” I whisper, barely containing the disbelief in my voice.
His gaze drops to his book. It’s a play. The Trojan Women by Euripides. It’s not like him to not look me in the eye when he talks, but I don’t get the pleasure of seeing his amber gaze .
“Does it make me desperate to have put you on that list the second I came back to Stoneview? Every night, I hoped you’d come.”
The undertone in his voice plays a lovesick melancholy, and it pulls at that red thread that links our hearts.
He’s here every night…alone?
“Hurting the two men I dated makes you desperate.” I huff, settling the vase down on the table before kneeling between his legs. “Wanting someone you trust by your side when you’re going through something makes you human.”
He finally looks at me, and his big arms awkwardly wrap around my body. Pulling me up, he sits me on his lap as he puts the book on his dad’s bed.
“I needed you here so badly,” he murmurs in my ear. “No one can make me feel the way you do. Nothing is as safe as your embrace.”
Isn’t it strange that such a strong man feels safe holding my small frame? Isn’t it heartbreaking that a person who is always in control finds balance within a woman who never figured life out? Every day I feel like I’m crawling through existence with no idea where I’m going. I have weights attached to my ankles, heavy stones in my chest. But right now, being with Chris, able to offer comfort, I feel like I’m fulfilling a purpose I never knew. It’s existential, yet light as a feather. It’s as natural as waking up every morning.
He's always taken care of me. I think just for tonight, I can be here for him.
“How is he?” I ask, my head resting on his shoulder.
“His…” He scratches his throat, and I feel his heart accelerating against my chest. “His…um…his brain activity is deteriorating.”
I hug him tighter, both arms around his shoulders as he holds me closer to him .
“They’re worried he’ll be...” His voice is barely audible now. “Brain dead soon.”
“Chris,” I croak. “Knowing you, you’ve probably been the one holding your family together, taking care of your mom and Juliette… I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this alone.”
Pulling back, he puts a hand on my cheek. “I haven’t been alone. I harassed you for weeks and look at you now. You’re here.”
I know he’s trying to lighten up the mood, so I won’t tell him that I’m here, but that I disagree with how he proceeded to achieve that. That I might put aside my anger toward him for one night, but that the facts stay the same. I am not his, and he is not mine.
I lack words to express what we’re truly going through, so I smile and keep the joke going. “Don’t take this as an encouragement to make my life a living hell.”
“I would never.”
Something catches my eye. There are scratches on his neck. Four angry lines that look like they were done on purpose. I graze them with the tips of my fingers.
“What is this?”
He turns away, thinking it’ll help to avoid my gaze, but all it does is give me a better view of his neck, and I can see it goes under his shirt. There are more scratches there. They’re vicious.
“Oh my god, Chris.” I stand up, pulling the collar out of the way. “What the hell?”
My heart drops as soon as my brain catches up, and I let go of him, taking a few steps back.
“You slept with her.” His eyes flutter closed, then open again. He’s shaking his head, but I keep going. “You left in a rush because the hospital called, but you still had time to have her hands all over your body?”
“Ella, I would never do that to you. Believe me, I don’t sleep with Megan.”
“Then what are those?” He expects me to believe this bullshit as if he’s never lied to me before.
“She tried to come visit my dad, but she’s not on the list.”
“She’s not on the…” My words hang in the air.
She’s not on the list.
He stands up, looking exhausted, like he doesn’t want to fight or justify himself, but at the same time, there’s a weight that needs to fall off his shoulders.
“She was being rude to the staff, trying to get past nurses to come to the room. So I went out, walked her outside, and asked her to leave, to wait for me at home. I didn’t touch her. I didn’t sleep with her. I don’t care about her. She’s an angry, vicious woman, and the last thing I want to do when I’m with you is talk about her.”
He’s somehow managed to corner me against the wall while he was talking, and I glance at the welts again. He avoided my question.
“What are they?” I ask again.
Because if those aren’t from sex, but they’re from Megan, then what? She angrily maimed him like a lion? It’s not like Chris is at risk to be hurt by anyone, really. He’s too big to fear people, let alone a skinny girl like Megan. It’s not like she’s abusing him…
My skin starts to tingle, needles piercing through my hands and feet as my stomach hardens. I see a flash of the bruise he had on his face a week ago. The way he acted exactly like she wanted then. I replay the scenes of him stiffening next to his fiancée who he hates so much. The way he always talks about her. Manipulative. Dangerous. He says he’ll get rid of her. Their deal he denies? And that phone call where she told him to know his place .
“Chris,” I push out through a dry throat. I’ve never experienced this.
If it was one of my girlfriends, I would hug her, ask her what was happening. I would soothe her and bring up the subject of abuse and to leave a man who hurts her.
But Chris…he’s so tall and strong. He’s a protector. He cares. How do you ask a man who seems invincible if the woman he’s supposed to marry abuses him?
It seems absurd.
And yet I know. I know it deep down in my soul. I feel it in my gut. I see it with my own eyes when I look at his neck.
I want to protect his ego. I want to laugh it off and pretend I never saw this.
But I did. And I know what it is.
“Does she…hit you?”
He’s the one who waves it off. “Don’t be silly. Have you seen me? What do you think she’ll do?”
“This.” I point at the red lines. They look painful and deep. He bled.
“Ella, I’m twice her size.”
He still hasn’t said no.
“The point isn’t whether it truly hurts you or not. The point isn’t her size. The point is, she tries . She acts on her anger and hurts you.”
“She can’t hurt me. I would crush her.”
“But you don’t,” I insist. “Because she uses your own kindness against you. She knows you won’t hurt her, and she takes advantage of it.” I run my palm up my forehead, grabbing my roots.
“Chris.” It takes all of me not to whisper my next words, but one of us has to name it. “This is domestic abuse.”
“Don’t,” he snorts. Stepping back, he bites his fist, turning his head away from me. When he looks back at me, he’s furious. “How many times did I have to spell out abuse to you when it came to your dad? You never believed me.”
“He never?—”
“Hit you. I know your excuses by heart. He made a mess out of you.” He presses his index finger against the side of my head. “He fucked with your brain until you thought so little of yourself you believe I was a good option for you.”
His words brings a chill down my spine, forcing me to plaster myself against the wall.
“He made you a vulnerable teenager to men like me, and I took advantage of it like the bastard I am. And look at you now. You’re still hung up on me, malleable like a little doll made of clay. A casualty from every move I make. See that’s being a victim of abuse. I let Megan hit me…so what? Down the line, she’ll get what she deserves, and I can say that with deadly certainty.”
I only realize my chest is shaking when he stops talking. My throat is closed from an invisible grip, but I push through because I have to. I have to make him see how far his denial goes.
“My dad.” I lick my trembling lips. “My dad isn’t the topic,” I croak. “He’s gone. Dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.”
“Ah yes.” He nods dramatically, using my perspicacity as sarcasm. “And why do you think that is, my sweet Ella? Someone had to get rid of him. ”
He freezes. His words might have had me confused, but his reaction to his slip-up clears it immediately.
I’m in a room with a murderer.