41

THE AFTERNOON SUN SHINES its blinding light in my eyes. Each passing cloud casts a dark shadow over Ambleside Crescent, and sitting on the Wexlers' front porch, I huff. Another cloud drifts away and lets the sun in my eyes. Elliot will be home from school soon.

Once again, I owe Brett Murphy the world. He's coming to take me away from his place, from this home I've destroyed.

With spring, Elizabeth has begun planting flowers again. When I first found this house in the dead of winter, I never imagined I would grow to see white tulips sprout from the soil next to the garden gnomes. It's bittersweet, like dark chocolate. I'll miss this place forever.

The truth is, I've been thinking about leaving since the day I found out about Charlotte, but I was biding my time, trying to decide what to do. I don't want to hurt Elliot, especially when he's already at such a low point, but I can't stay here either. No matter how I try to spin it, it isn't right. My heart wrenches and my eyes burn. I would have loved to stay here with Elliot forever. Always be with him. But it's not realistic; it was never going to happen.

Charlotte Wexler is still out there. When I talked to Brett on the phone earlier, he told me Colt hasn't shown his face in ages. No one has any idea where he is. He's just poof, gone. And Brett and Alecia took the opportunity to find a new place, so he has no idea where they live now. He's not trying to find them, which in itself, is suspicious.

But I know what Colt's doing. He's taken Charlotte somewhere, maybe Toronto, maybe another city. He wouldn't have gone far. After all, that's what he did with me when I first met him, back when I was naïve and fourteen, back when he seemed so powerful. Like he was my savior.

Does Charlotte feel that way now? Does she think Colt has saved her from her 'horrible life?' She'll see soon enough that the passenger's seat of his car is a cage. She's his little bird, just like I was. But if I can save her from it, I will. If Colt's out there, I have to find him. I owe the Wexlers that much and more. It's the bottom of the barrel of what I can do to make up for everything they have done for me. I hate to admit that I'm scared to leave, though. I can stay with Brett and Alecia, but it won't be the same as it is here.

Footsteps drag across the sidewalk, and I look up. Elliot slumps up to the house, and his blue eyes snap to me, then to the red suitcase beside me on the porch. He looks so cute in his burgundy Catholic school uniform with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

This is the last time I'll see him like this. No more cuddling by the fire or watching movies or sneaking around to get in each other's pants. I'm not sure which part I'll miss the most, but it's over now. Because that's what eras do; they end. But time always goes on, and so does life.

I clasp my hands together. "Your brother said it'd be okay if I had this suitcase."

Elliot's confused frown alone is enough to snap my heart in two. "What? Why? Where are you going, Luce?" Slowly, his eyebrows pull together. His face goes pale, his eyes glossy, and he drops his backpack. "Lucy, no." He storms up to me. Maybe he thinks about grabbing my hands like he always does, but he stops himself.

"El..." I half-smile and shrug. "Come on. You know that it's over between us."

"What? No, pretty sure that's news to me." His tone is snide, but his voice shakes.

"After what I said on the roof yesterday... I thought you knew."

"No. As always, I didn't clue in. Or maybe you just implied but didn't actually say."

I'm quiet. I know how much Elliot loves me; I feel it in the way he touches me and kisses me and tells me I'm beautiful. It's in everything that he does for me, how he always makes sure I'm warm and never hungry, how he brushes my hair behind my ear so he can see me clearly. How the only time he closes his eyes around me is when our lips touch.

"So, what?" He crosses his arms. "You just don't care about me anymore?"

"Of course I do..." I love you.

"Then don't leave me. You're my rock—you're the only thing that's been making this whole thing with Charlotte bearable. You're—"

"Stop." My eyes sting. "It's over, Elliot. I've already made up my mind. But I didn't want to just run away this time. I had to face you."

"Better than a stupid note, I guess."

"You're mad at me."

"I don't know, Luce. I guess? How am I supposed to feel? I can't just let you go. I love you, Lucy. And how many times do I have to tell you that I don't blame you for what happened to Charlotte?"

Doubt crawls through my veins, but I keep my shoulders firm. Part of me wants to say to hell with this and stay with him, but I have to be strong. Leaving is the right thing to do. Doesn't he see that I've torn his family to shreds? Every minute I've been alive since Charlotte disappeared I've felt guilty and horrible and wrong.

"I get it," I say, "but I blame myself. How can I stay here and be with you and live with your family when I hate myself?"

"What about me? What about how I feel? Does that ever matter to you?"

"It does, but..."

"But what? You don't care, Lucy. You haven't once asked me how I feel."

I tense up, the truth of his words a cloud above me.

"It was my sister who got taken, but you haven't been there for me at all, and that's fine, I guess, because you were going through so much more, but I thought—" His voice breaks, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what I thought. I guess I thought after all of this, you'd at least be there for me in some way. But instead you're dumping me."

He wipes his eyes, and I bite back tears. He's right, I'm a shitty person. I've been so absorbed in my own guilt that I never stopped once to think about what he's going through.

"I'm so sorry, El..." I look at my feet. "I didn't realize."

"It's fine. Just—don't go. If you give a shit about me at all, don't go."

His eyes catch the sunlight.

Oh, Junior.

I had no idea I'd get to know you so well.

"I have to," I say.

"No, you want to."

Brett's car pulls up the street, the wheels crunching against the rocks on the road. I look over Elliot's shoulder to the box Chevy, the one just like Colt's, and it reminds me that without a doubt, I have to do this.

Still, remorse soaks my entire body when I connect with Elliot's pained eyes. His bottom lip trembles and his dark eyelashes are clumped together. I consider kissing him, but that will only make this harder, so I sling my ratty old backpack over my shoulder and pick up the suitcase, hopping off the ledge. This place is the closest thing to a real home I've ever had, but it's over now. I turn away and drag my suitcase over the driveway, but stop and face him.

"I'll keep helping the police find your sister, okay? I'll do my best to find her, I promise. And when I do, then maybe we can talk it out, okay? You can still text me if you want to talk. I promise I'll answer."

Elliot says nothing.

"Thank you for everything, Elliot. I mean it. I owe you and your family the world. I'll make this right, I promise."

I hurry away before my head can catch up with my heart. I'm halfway down the driveway when he stops me.

"This is bullshit."

I look over my shoulder. He looks at me over his. His eyes beg me not to go. I beg myself not to, either, but smile as sweetly as I can.

"Take care of yourself, okay, Junior? And our deal still stands—no pot, no booze. Got it? If I find out you're self-medicating again, I'll find you."

"Yeah, and I won't be hiding."

Elliot's eyes burn a hole in me as I shove my luggage in the backseat of Brett's car and get into the passenger's side, slamming the door shut. Brett doesn't say a word, just immediately starts driving. Elliot stands in the driveway. Our eyes hold each other until they can't anymore.

I'll always wonder what he did after that.