Page 69 of The Cruelest Chaos

Someone’s arms are wrapped around my back, gentle against my bare skin. I’m on the floor in the kitchen. I see the knife at the far end, underneath the lip of the cabinet.

“Maverick.” Her voice is softer this time, my head against her shoulder, her hair tickling my face.

I squeeze her tighter, my arms around her, too. “Ella.”

“Maverick,” she whispers, but she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t try to look at my face.

“Ella,” I say her name again, and breathe her in, pulling her into my lap. She straddles me, leaning against my chest as I hold her. And she holds me, too.

My body is hot, uncomfortable. I want to crawl out of my own skin but I force myself to stay where I am. To not move. Not fidget. I remember throwing the knife. I remember getting on the floor, too. Remember pulling her to me. Holding her tight.

It wasn’t a flashback.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?

It was just me. Reliving it. So I never forget.

“I’m sorry.” The words sound strange. Feel strange. But I mean them.

She shakes her head against my shoulder. “No.”

I frown, but don’t argue.

She exhales against my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin. She feels so good in my lap, just like this. I meant what I told her.

I do own her.

But right now, she owns me, too, and it’s gonna hurt like hell to give her up.

“Tell me, Mavy. Tell me a secret.”

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?

“I killed my brother.”

She goes still in my arms. I close my eyes, holding her tighter.Don’t get up. Please don’t get up. Please don’t leave.

She doesn’t. She doesn’t speak.

“Please don’t ask me questions.” I can’t tell her my other pleas. I’m not that brave, so I stick to this one. “Please don’t. Not now.”

Slowly, she nods, but doesn’t say a word.

“And you?” I prod her, hating the silence, not wanting her to ask. Not wanting to tell. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done, baby?” I stroke her hair with one hand, keep her pressing against me with the other as I lean back against the door of the oven, still warm from the cookies inside.

She takes a deep breath. Exhales. “I fell in love with my mom’s boyfriend.”

“Is he the one that hurt you?”

She tenses in my arms.

“It’s okay.”

She doesn’t speak.

“Did he hurt you, Ella?”

Silence.