Everything You Are(65)

Haunted, she thinks, and then brushes that thought aside.

Still, she finds herself creeping down the stairs, skipping over the creaky fourth step, as if the cello will hear her. There’s nothing to prevent her from walking out the front door, but instead she slips out the back, opening it slowly and closing it as gently as she can. It always sticks a little, and she has to give a firm tug, but she’s outside now. The air is cold but not quite freezing. A full moon lights the sky, creating shadows on the lawn. Allie sneaks around the side of the house, breath held, with only a minute to spare.

Ethan is right on time. She hears the motorcycle coming and runs out to the curb. Without taking time to put on a helmet, she swings up behind him.

“Quick!” she says, a rush of unreasonable fear sending a burst of adrenaline through her body.

She turns her cheek into the shelter of his shoulder and closes her eyes, arms tight around his waist, and stays that way. When he stops the bike and kills the engine, she looks up, expecting the dark, grungy parking lot of the motel. Instead, she sees neon lights and smells French fries and something savory. Her mouth waters in response. She’s hungry, even after the dinner and cookies Phee’s mother fed her earlier.

“I’ve never taken you on a real date,” Ethan says. “Dinner? Yes?”

“Yes.”

Her heart swells and she feels the smile blossoming. A real smile, not a made-up one. He really does understand, she thinks. He knows what I need without me even telling him.

“How did you know I was hungry?”

“I know everything about you, Allie. You’re the girl I want to spend forever with.”

His hand wraps around hers, warm and strong. Admiring eyes follow them as they walk in and sit down, and she feels lucky to be chosen by him. Half an hour later, with a hamburger and fries warming her empty belly, rock music drowning out the ever-present cello, and Ethan’s eyes gazing into hers across the table, soul to soul, she feels better than she has any right to feel.

Ethan leans forward so he can be heard over the music.

“So. Was the party worth staying alive for?”

Allie’s heart stops. Her hand freezes halfway to her mouth, the French fry dripping ketchup onto the table.

“No,” she whispers.

“Neither was jail.”

“Ethan, I’m sorry—”

He waves off the words. “I’m done, Allie. With this world. There’s nothing in it to hold me. Except you.”

“Well, good?” she says, having no idea what to say, really. “I’m glad you’re in it, too, Ethan.”

“I don’t want to stay in it.” His eyes are so compelling, his voice speaking to her own desire to just let everything go. “So if you came with me . . .”

Allie drops the fry, her appetite gone. Wipes up the ketchup smear with a napkin, giving herself a minute, just one, to get her brain working again.

Ethan reaches for her hands. “Look at me, Allie.”

She does, losing herself in the darkness of his gaze.

“Give me one reason why we shouldn’t do this.”

“What if it’s worse? The other side, I mean.”

He smiles, dark and dazzling. “And what if it’s beautiful? I think it will be. You know? To make up for how fucked up everything is here.”

“I don’t know,” she says. Hope or no hope, her soul recoils from the idea of death.

Ethan’s smile fades. He drops her hands, leans back in his chair. “I want you to come with me, so much. I don’t want to go alone. But I will. You have two days to think about it.”

“That’s all? Come on, Ethan. This is huge. A week, at least.”

He shakes his head. “Two days. I’ll be at the motel, same room as before. If you want to come with me, be there.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then this is goodbye.”

Allie shivers, all of the warmth of the burger joint unable to touch her. The smell of fries and burgers turns her stomach.

Ethan leans forward again, taking both of her hands in his warm ones. His eyes gaze into hers with mesmerizing intensity. He lowers his voice, making his words a secret just between the two of them.

“Come on, Allie. Please. Die with me. Say yes.”

“Yes.”

She’s surprised by the relief that washes over her. Yes. She can let go of everything. The cello and the broken relationship with her father. Her guilt. The wasteland of a life stretching ahead of her.

“That’s my girl. I knew you’d be the one.”

“Why wait?” she asks. “If we’re going to do it, why not just—do it?”

“No way! People spend a year planning for a wedding, you know? This is the most important day of our lives. It needs to be a ceremony.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Leave it all to me, Allie. Just leave it all to me.”





Chapter Twenty-Five

PHEE

Phee has a name and a town, and it turns out that’s all she needs. Josephine Conroy is the only woman of that name in Colville, Washington. Her number is in the directory, and she answers on the second ring. A TV is loud in the background and the music is loud in Phee’s head and she’s already on edge. She consciously wills her fingers to relax their grip on the phone, tries to slow her breathing.