The Secret of Ella and Micha

are sitting at the kitchen table with coffee mugs in front of them. There’s a box of doughnuts on the counter and someone’s taken out the garbage and cleaned the dishes.
    “Oh my God, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” The girl with black hair stands up and meets me in the middle of the kitchen.
    “Likewise, I guess…” I shake her extended hand, glancing at Lila and then Dean.
    Dean gets up and brushes crumbs off the front of his button down shirt. “Ella, this is my fiancé, Caroline.”
    My mouth forms an “O.” She’s not how I pictured her; short and slender, with tan skin and shoulder length wavy hair. She has a vest on over a t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. There’s a butterfly tattoo on her wrist and her ears have multiple piercings. I pictured her more prim and proper, by the way my brother showed up looking.
    “Dean’s told me so much about you,” she says with a genuine smile. “And I’m finally glad to have a face to attach to the stories he’s been telling me.”
    My eyes wander to Dean and my eyebrows arch up. “Stories, huh? I’d love to hear these stories.”
    She doesn’t miss a beat. “Like how you like to draw and how you love cars. He also said you attend UNLV, which is so cool because that’s where I went.”
    “I thought you said you didn’t know where I was,” I say to Dean.
    He shifts uneasily. “Dad told me once during like a five minute conversation. But anyway, it’s not a big deal, Ella, for me to tell my fiancé about my little sister.”
    “It kind of is.” My voice carries an underlying meaning that only he will understand. “All things considering.”
    Dean hisses through clenched teeth. “Ella, can you not start this shit. It’s too early in the morning.”
    Caroline glances from Dean to me then back to Dean. “You weren’t lying. You guys’ relationship is a little intense.”
    Removing myself from the conversation, I pull my hair into a ponytail and pour myself a cup of coffee. Breathing in the aroma, I stare out the window, noting that Micha’s car isn’t next door.
    “Where the hell is he?” I mutter to myself.
    Suddenly, I’m being yanked by the arm out of the room.
    “Hey,” I protest as hot coffee spills onto my foot. “What is your problem?”
    “Look.” Dean says once we’re in the living room. “I didn’t invite her here. She just showed up to surprise me.”
    “So you don’t want her here?” I take a sip of my coffee, hiding my amusement.
    He rubs the back of his neck tensely. “There’s just stuff she doesn’t know about me yet and I don’t think I’m ready to tell her.”
    “You told her about me.”
    “But not dad. And not mom either.”
    I set the cup down on the table and wipe up the coffee from my foot with a towel. “Okay, so what do you want to do about it?”
    “Could you hang out with her for the day, while I pack up the rest of my room?” he asks. “And then I can get her out of here by tomorrow morning.”
    “You should just tell her the truth.” I toss the towel on the couch. “Avoiding the problem will only catch up with you.”
    He pulls an annoyed face. “You’re one to talk.”
    “I know and I’m working on it.” My voice shakes a little and I clear it.
    His face is turning red. “Would you please just keep her busy?”
    “I guess.” I shrug. “But where do you want me to take her?”
    “For a drive around the lake or something,” he says. “I don’t care just as long as you keep her away from here.”
    I collect my coffee and proceed for the kitchen, while he heads for the stairs to finish packing.
    “And Ella,” he calls out from the stairway “You look different today—happier.”
    I give him a small smile, and then I turn away, wondering what looks different.

Chapter 17

    Micha
    I called my dad from the road and got his address. He tried to talk to me a little bit, but I hung up on him. Confronting him for bailing is not something I’m going to do over the phone.
    He lives about two hours away, which pisses me off. Two hours away and he hasn’t stopped by once. When I pull up to his house, my hands nearly choke the life out of the steering wheel. He lives in a two-story white-brick mansion. The neighborhood is nice with gigantic houses and people walking their dogs along the sidewalk. There’s no drug dealings going on, no fights, no junky cars parked in the front yard.
    I sit in my car staring at the red door with a big “Welcome” sign hanging on it. There