Page 93

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ella dug her toes into the wet, cold sand. There was something about the evening as the dark skyline merged into the inky ocean. She listened to the calm. The lapping waves and the deserted beach gave her space to let her mind drift. It had been so long since she had been at peace, and she hadn’t realized it.
For the time she spent playing down her stress, the only true respite she’d had recently was in Bishop’s arms. Funny how it took traveling thousands of miles to make that realization. He’d said she needed to relax, asked her when was the last time she’d been silly.
“I didn’t believe him,” she told the waves.
Furry Baby and Little Kitty were wonderful distractions. Vlogging and live chatting with Eco-Ella fans couldn’t be more fun. But pets could only do so much, and work was actually work.
The beach had always been her safe zone, even when filled with bastards who only thought about their bank accounts. What an adrenaline rush that had been and—
Sea grass swayed with a breeze. It shifted more than the dune weed should. She knew footsteps approached, and Ella’s toes dug deep into the sand. It wasn’t smart to be out there without a weapon. The second they’d arrived, Ella had dropped her bags and slipped out the door. Neither of her parents had called after her, maybe knowing that she needed to re-center at the edge of the water. Now that she barely came back, she hadn’t thought two seconds about what to do if she stumbled upon some of her oldfriends, the poachers and pilferers. Though the location was all wrong.
Her stalker couldn’t know where she was now. Right? Fear tickled the back of her throat.
“Sweet pea?” Her mom’s gentle nickname carried on a breeze from a nearby dune.
Relief crawled through her like the ocean gust off the waves. “Hey, Mom.”
She’d gone to a dark place, only serving as a reminder that it was good she was off the grid, trying to secure serenity.
Her mom’s sandy footsteps recalibrated, changing direction under the guidance of a faint flashlight. She stopped at Ella’s side. “Dad and I noticed you were gone longer than the last few times you checked in with us. I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I lost track of time.”
Burdening her parents always made her feel as though she was a baby. Starting back when they’d first lost Brie, her parents, particularly her mom, made it their goal to make sure that Ella was fine. There was nothing they could do to lift the guilt. When they’d realized that, it hurt all of them.
Blogging had made her better. Smiling in videos made her mom trust that things were improving.Fake it ’til you make it. Maybe that idiom had worked, because Ella had become a sunny person again, eventually. She’d climbed out of depression, gained weight back, slept more. There were so many reasons that Ella did what she did with the blog.
“Don’t be sorry.” Her mom clicked off the flashlight and gave her a shoulder hug. “That’s not the reason I trudged down here in the dark.”
“Oh, everything okay?”
“With everything going on, we realize that ditching your phone and not updating Eco-Ella has probably been hard.”
“It’s different, not informing the world of my every move.” She lifted a shoulder, snuggling into her mom, and offered a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m joking.”
“Butyou haven’t been blogging, and when you’ve had your phone, it…” Her mom leaned in, and together, they let the wind roll over them. “It has not gone unnoticed that you smiled in a way that a mother wouldwanther daughter to smile.”
Heat crawled up her neck and flared into her cheeks. Thank goodness for the cover of the near-moonless night. “I wasn’t smiling long.”
“El, honey. You picked up your phone, you read something, and you smiled. I liked the way you smiled. I haven’t seen that smile in so long.”
Bishop had checked in. Not only had Bishop texted, but he had stopped by to see Manny, following up on her pets—the things that meant something to her, and that made her insides melt.
“What would you say if I met someone?” Ella asked.
Her mom patted her bicep, giving what almost felt like a hopeful squeeze. Only the waves hitting the shores responded, mixing with the sound of nature. It was a lyrical symphony.
Mom took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I would say that whomever this lucky person is, please give him a chance.”
“A chance?”
“Yes, honey, a chance. Work is a good thing. Your father and I both understand that. We wouldn’t have this life if we hadn’t worked hard. But more importantly, we had each other. That is worth so much more than a job.”
She stiffened. “It’s more than a job.”
“It pays the bills. It provides income. It puts a roof over your head. You might love it; it might be your passion, but it’s also work. Nothing wrong with loving your work; just respect what it is.”