Page 84 of My Fallen Saint

“He said he wasn’t sure how much of what you heard was true, but that part of it is, and he’s sorry he hurt you.”

I swallow. “He says some of it’s true? Did he tell you what?”

She laughs. “He didn’t tell me shit other than that he’s worried about you. Seriously, Ellie, the guy’s ripped up.”

“Good. What else did he say?”

“That he didn’t want you to find out that way—Ellie, what way? And what did you find out in the first place?”

That way? Did he mean from someone other than him? Or did he mean by talking to a prisoner, which would mean he’d been watching my every move. I pull my knees up and hug myself. “He didn’t want me to find out at all,” I say

“Yeah, he said that, too.”

I’d been looking at my toes, but now I look up at her. “He did?”

She nods. “But since you did, he says the way you found out was really bad. He says that he should have been the one who told you.”

I scoff. “Bullshit. He’s just pissed I learned the truth at all.”

She puts a hand on my knee and squeezes lightly. “He also said that you could tell me everything. Because he knows you need someone to talk to.”

“What?” I must have heard her wrong.

“He said he knows you, and you probably haven’t told me a thing. But that you can. You didn’t tell him that I know he’s Alex?”

I shake my head, irritated. Like I need his permission? Please. He should be grateful I’m not telling the whole damn world, much less Brandy.

I stand up, then take a step toward my satchel. It would be so easy. Just pull out my laptop, open up Twitter, and post from my official account at The Spall.

But I can’t seem to take that first step.

“Ellie, please.”

But I can’t, and when the tears start flowing, she puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close until exhaustion wins and I slip away into the refuge of darkness and dreams.

When I wake, it’s the middle of the night. I’m still on the couch, but Brandy’s covered me with the afghan, and Jake is snuggled up close. I stay still for a moment, relishing the feel of his furry warmth, then sit up, holding the afghan around my shoulders like a cape as I take deep breaths and lightly pat the tender, tear-ravaged skin beneath my eyes.

I stand, intending to go to my bedroom. Instead, I find myself in Shelby. I fire up the engine, then pull out of the garage to the end of the driveway. I send Brandy a quick text to let her know I’ve gone out driving. I doubt she’ll wake before morning, and by then I’ll be back. But just in case, I want her to know. I’m coherent enough to know that it matters, so I guess that’s a good thing.

My rental is still parked on the street, and I vaguely think that I need to return it. But mostly, I don’t think at all.

Mostly, I just need to drive. I need the wind in my hair. The noise and the rush either bringing me back to life or whisking all the dark thoughts from my head. I don’t want to want him. I don’t want to think. And the only way I know how to free myself is to lose myself in speed and the hills and these tight, winding turns.

I go slow until I’m out of the neighborhood, then I head to Sunset Canyon Road and take it away from town, to the turnoffs that lead into the foothills and the wild and winding unpopulated roads that go up and up until you’re high enough to touch the sky or go flying out over the hills toward the sparkling waters of the Pacific.

Mindlessly, I navigate the curves, my hand on the gearshift, my foot working the clutch. I whip around hairpin turns, fly along winding curves, and push Shelby harder and harder until my body and my car are one and it’s me who has the power, me who’s flying, me who’s cheating death and pain and loss and I’m fucking winning, dammit. I. Am. Winning.

Fuck.

With the curse screaming in my brain, I hit the brakes and skid to a stop in a turnabout. I’m breathing hard, and I should be free now. I should have sloughed it off, this feeling that I have to push and push and break through if I’m ever going to feel again.

But I’m not. I’m not even close. I’m not winning at all, and I could drive all night and it would still be a lie.

Because these hills aren’t where I need to be.

This isn’t the danger I crave.

I close my eyes and draw a deep breath, because I know what I have to do.

I have to go see Devlin.