The Twenty-One (Emerald Cove #2)

by Lauren K. McKellar

  And don’t let them take no for an answer.

  “Where are you?”

  Hope shoots me a worried look, and gives a small shake of her head.

  Dani rattles off an address, and I repeat it in my head over and over, imprinting it upon my brain, before hanging up.

  “Sixteen Meleuca Court, Abbottsville,” I tell Lia, who taps the address into the GPS without asking anything further.

  “Ell Bell, are you really up for this?” Hope asks.

  I nod. Because this time, I am.

  We arrive at the address Dani gave ten minutes later. Tension is thick in the interior of Lia’s Hyundai, and I’m sure it’s not just the stifling air-conditioning. Pressure weighs heavily on my shoulders as I stare out at yet another rundown ghetto house. Yet another refuge for my sister’s escape.

  My sister sits on the porch step, an image I am all too familiar with and all too enraged by. My car door flies open.

  This is it.

  I’m not letting someone else live this anymore.

  I storm across the yard. My shoes smart against the concrete path, slapping sounds that are completely at odds with the fierce anger boiling inside of me.

  Dani looks up when I’m a few feet away. Her eyes are red, and her cheeks blotchy. “Thank you,” she sobs. She stands and holds her arms out, waiting for my embrace, but I walk straight past her, charging into the house.

  “Eleanor!” she screams.

  Her bare feet thud in my wake, but I’m inside the darkened shack before she can catch me.

  On the couch, three guys sit, ten bottles of beer littered in front of them. One man is covered in tattoos, one is pale and weedy, and one looks as if he could model for Billabong if he tried. They’re three complete opposite lifestyle clichés, and I would never in a million years have picked them as belonging together.

  The only thing they have in common is danger.

  It leeches off them, permeating the air, coating my skin and infiltrating my lungs.

  I shake in my stupid shoes, and heat rushes to my stupid made-up cheeks. I can’t do this. I can’t—

  Dani tugs on my arm. When I spin to see her, her face is pure panic—completely stripped bare. The strap of her tank falls down her shoulder, a reminder of how skinny she’s become. It exposes a bruise, green and purple, that runs around the base of her neck. In her eyes, I see a wild fear I haven’t seen before. I see terror. “El, let’s go.”

  I know what I should do. These three men are bigger than me, stronger than me, and I have no doubt about the damage they could do to those who got on their wrong side.

  But that’s the thing about hitting rock bottom. You have nothing left to lose.

  And this is a gamble that I’m prepared to take.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Tatts asks.

  I glare at him. Heat coils my muscles into springs. It balls my hands into fists. “None of your fucking business.”

  Surfer God laughs, only it’s a chilling, cruel sound, as if he knows something I don’t. As if he could slice me in two. “Get out of here, little girl.”

  With that, I snap. I pick up the closest beer bottle and I slam it against the ground with all my might. Brown glass shards fly everywhere. Three men look at me with widened eyes.

  “She’s fucking on a trip,” Pale and Weedy says, his eyes flitting from me to the floor and back.

  Tatts stands up. He’s six-foot-something, and as he steps closer, I fight every instinct I have and hold my ground. I don’t run, despite how much I want to. Despite how much better that would be.

  “Leave her alone.” My voice tremors as the words come out, but I stand my ground.

  Tatts steps closer, and I bite down hard on my lip. Fear courses through my body, and I hate it and relish it all at once. I hate it because it turns my blood to ice; it freezes in my veins.

  I relish it because I feel.

  “We can leave her alone, little girl,” Tatts seethes. He pushes at my shoulder, and I stagger backward into the wall. The salty taste of blood fills my mouth and I swallow it down. “It’s her who can’t leave us.”

  “Well this time, she doesn’t have a choice.” I move to step around Tatts and reach for Dani’s arm, but he blocks me. Without laying a finger on me, he’s asserted himself as able to crush me like a fly. It’s in the cold onyx of his eyes.

  “D ... Dani, get in the car.” I swallow, struggling to control the tremors in my voice. My hands grip onto the edges of my skirt.

  Tatts steps closer again. A whiff of smoke chokes my throat. “She doesn’t want to leave.”

  “She was begging to stay last night,” Pale and Weedy pipes up.

  I swallow down the excess saliva that has somehow appeared in my mouth. Taking money from Colin for a little heavy petting is one thing. But she’s not ... she wouldn’t ...

  “That’s right, little girl.” Tatts smirks. “Your sister fucks us to get high.”

  I shake my head. Tears glass over my eyes as I try to make contact with Dani, but everything’s a blur. How can things have gotten this bad? How can she have fallen so far, so fast?

  “Every few nights, she comes back. Spreads her legs, and in return ...” Surfer breaks into a laugh. “Well, we show her a good time.”

  “She never sleeps with me,” Pale and Weedy mutters, but it hardly seems like a saving grace, given the circumstances.

  I seek out my sister’s eyes and hold them, brown eyes so like my own. All I want is for her to deny it. To say that she never did any of the things they’re implying. “Is it ... true?”

  Torture is watching a heart break in front of your eyes.

  Dani shatters in front of me. She sways, and for a brief moment I think she’s going to pass out. Her face pales to an ashen colour.

  “We’re leaving.” I push forward to go to my sister. To save her.

  But Tatts wraps a firm hand around my upper arm, and my heart leaps to my throat. His grip is so tight it crushes my skin, and I think of the bruise around my sister’s neck. I jerk back against the wall, but he doesn’t let me move. Flat eyes bore into mine, a staring match that I know I’ll struggle to win.

  For the first time since arriving, I wonder just how smart this idea was after all.

  “I’m not a slut.”

  Her voice is small, but audible. Pale and Weedy snorts. Tatts doesn’t batt an eyelid.

  “I ...” Her voice breaks. “Ellie, let’s go.”

  Tatts gives my arm one more squeeze, then releases his mammoth fingers with a sneer that has blood pumping fast through my veins. “I ain’t gonna keep her here if she wants to leave. But she’ll be back.”

  I grab Dani’s wrist and try not to run out of the house.

  “See you soon, whore,” Surfer calls as we hasten out the door.

  As we head to the car, no one follows us. No one seems to try and slow us down.

  “Ellie, I—”

  “Save it,” I whisper. Tears glass over my vision and I wonder when it’s going to end. When I can catch a damn break.

  “No.” She stops still on the patchy lawn, and I turn to look at her.

  “So help me God, if I have to carry you to the car—”

  “I didn’t ... I didn’t know.” She shakes her head, and fat tears swim down her cheeks. “I never meant to ... I’m not a whore.”

  I take two steps forward and wrap my arms around her. Even though she’s out of that house, she still needs saving.

  Maybe she always will.

  We stand there for a moment, until she looks up at me with a smile fighting her wobbling lower lip. “Let’s go home.”

  I open the door and shove her across the back seat, then hop in beside her. Lia and Hope are silent while I click Dani’s belt buckle, and minutes later, Lia pulls out of the drive and heads toward the main road.

  “You guys look like you’re going to a funeral or something,” Dani says, giving a short laugh at her own joke.

  “We just did,” Hope seethes.

  Dan
i’s eyes widen. “Shit,” she breathes. Another tear creeps down her cheek. “Sorry.”

  I turn to face her. My shoulders stiffen. “No.”

  Her cheeks pale, the red blotches popping even more. “No?”

  “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s because you’re going to rehab, Dani.”

  She reaches for the door handle, but Lia pops the child lock. Dani is stuck here.

  She’s stuck facing her problems.

  “Don’t make me, Ellie. Please, don’t make me.” Her fingers claw at my skirt, pulling it to her as if that will make a difference. As if that will change the way I feel.

  And even though this knowledge clouds my heart, even though it’s a heavy weight blinding my soul, for the first time in years I see clearly. And I see the truth.

  “Dani, you need to get help. I can’t force you to do that, but if you don’t, I’m not going to be here for you anymore. I want out. I don’t want to be put through this—this saving you, week in, week out. I want to be able to love my sister. To know that when I wake up in the morning, she’s going to be there.” I suck in a shuddering breath. “That she’s not going to die just like Dad did. Just like Joel.”

  I swipe at my eyes and the stupid tears that gathered there. It hurts so damn much thinking of what I’ve lost. I hope against hope that I’m not about to lose my sister, too.

  The words hang in the car between us, and for a few moments I wonder if I was wrong. If maybe my threat isn’t enough.

  “No.”

  I lean closer to hear the word, unsure if I heard right.

  “I won’t be like Dad, Ellie.” Frail fingers reach across the back seat and wrap around mine. “I don’t think I can stop. But I’ll try.”

  I pull my hand closer to my chest, hers still wrapped up in it. “I’m going to need more than try.”

  She levels me with her gaze and bites down on her lip. “I’m going to do more than that.” Her voice wobbles. “I’m going to want to.”

  Want. It’s the one word from her I never thought I’d hear.

  ***

  Sometimes you have to reach rock bottom to be able to swim to the surface. That’s how I feel as Mum and I check Dani into rehab one week later at Sydney’s most exclusive private facility.

  She hugs us both at the door as she goes in, but I know it won’t be easy. She’s only there because she wants to be. Who knows how long that want will last?

  Still, as I twist the pendant Joel gave me on a chain around my neck, I hope. Because if there’s one thing all this has taught me, it’s that people can change.

  “You did good, Eleanor.” Mum smiles at me. Her dark sunglasses reflect my own back at her against the bright summer sun. “Thank you for keeping my daughter safe.”

  Her words are not enough. It’s going to take a long time to mend the relationship between my mother and myself.

  But for now, it goes a long, long way.

  ***

  Three weeks later

  The headstone looks the same as it always has—brown, gold-embossed marble marking out his name. Only this time, everything is different.

  This time, my mother and sister are here beside me.

  We’re not fixed. I’m no longer the girl who believes in happy endings, that everything will work out okay.

  But we’re trying.

  And that sure as hell has to count.

  “Hi,” I whisper, crouching down to trace the all-too-familiar name on the tile.

  “Do we have to talk to him?” Dani asks. She scrunches up her nose, but she schools her face immediately upon seeing my look.

  “No.”

  “Sorry.” Dani’s hands go up in defence. She’s on day release from rehab so we could all be here together. “You do your thing.”

  And even though my grief used to be a private thing, even though it was mine alone to bear—I do.

  “I miss you.” I look back at the stone and offer up a smile. “I know I’m missing Joel now too—God, I miss him so much. It’s crazy how one guy can have such an impact on your life.”

  I swallow down the sob that threatens to choke my throat and continue. “But ... but I’m trying. I applied for uni. I’m going to study. I’m going to ...” I blink back tears. It’s stupid, but a part of me hates the idea of being anything but the girl I was when he died. Because this means it’s over. That I’m moving on.

  I steel myself against the doubt lingering in my head. Moving on doesn’t mean letting go. I have to keep telling myself that.

  I open my mouth to find the words to finish my sentence, but I don’t have to.

  Mum’s hand lands square on my shoulder as she says “She’s going to make something of herself.”

  My heart warms, and I look up at her.

  “You would be so proud of her, Ian. She’s done exactly as you asked.” She pauses. “She’s kept us girls safe.”

  And even if it took me stepping away to do that, even if I had to expose my sister’s secrets and hurt my mother’s heart—I’m glad I did.

  Because the best things in life are never easy.

  Joel Henley taught me that.

  EPILOGUE

  Time passes, and it’s not easy. It never is. Life doesn’t put itself on hold while you bleed. It doesn’t stop while your soul spills onto the pavement for everyone to trample on, to smother with their boots and sharp high heels.

  It goes on, and on, and on.

  The worst is laughing. It’s feeling happy. It’s being with friends, achieving, feeling good.

  Because at the end of that, you remember. And nothing hurts like that reminder that everything isn’t as perfect, as shiny as you thought it was. Nothing hurts like waking from a dream. Nothing hurts like the guilt that gnaws and chews at your stomach, your heart, your mind when you realise you’ve just laughed, you’ve just enjoyed a moment completely and thoroughly—and he’s still gone.

  You can’t stop those moments from washing over you, no matter how hard you fight them. Sometimes, you just have to let the hurt in.

  And that’s what I’m doing today.

  I press my eyes shut, trying to push back the salty sting that needles at my eyes. I can’t get emotional now. Not at this moment. Not when there’s so much to lose, and so much to gain.

  The roar of the plane blares constant and unyielding, a powerful machine. It’s hard not to clap my hands to cover my ears to protect them from the sound.

  Still, there’s something so sweet in pain. Because if this is as bad as it gets, shit could be a whole lot worse.

  I shuffle against the wall behind me, wanting to press myself against it as the door opens. The roar becomes all-consuming, everything I hear, think, feel. It’s loud, so loud, and I don’t know if I can do this.

  It was Joel’s dream for so long—but it was his dream.

  Not mine.

  Not the girl who is so afraid to jump. Who is so afraid to leap with no one there to catch her, especially now that her lover has passed away. He isn’t coming back.

  The instructor, Eric, makes a signal to me, asking if I’m okay, and I do what any idiot in my position would do. I grin and nod as fast as I can, as if I can somehow convince the both of us that I got this.

  Eric completes the prep for our jump, and we inch toward the opening. My heart races. Blood pumps through my body like the bottom line in a drum-and-bass track. My pulse roars in my body, a thunderous rush of blood somehow heard above the noise coming from the machine floating way too high and yet way too close to the ground for my liking.

  “Ready?”

  I don’t know if I hear or just see him ask.

  All I know is that it’s time.

  And I have to choose.

  Now.

  Sometimes in life you choose to take the risky path. Sometimes you choose to push the limits, to see just how high you can go. Taking chances won’t guarantee you any safety—but neither will following the rules.

  And isn’t it better to have pushed yourself hard, to have stretch
ed as far as you can, and know that you tried?

  It’s that thought that resonates in my head, in my heart, in every damn cell of my body as I give the thumbs up to Eric.

  He doesn’t need to be told twice, even when I have a slight twinge and wish he did. He gives my shoulder a friendly squeeze ...

  And then we fly.

  The plane was loud, but this is louder. I hurtle toward earth, toward land. Everything is so fragile in this moment—life, love, death. I scream, and it’s gone before I can truly embrace the sound. My heart sticks in my throat and panic blossoms in my chest. This is too fast, too high, too long, and I know with an unwavering certainty that something is wrong. This isn’t happening the way it’s supposed to.

  I’m going to die.

  I fight. I grab for Eric behind me, I push against the air holding my limbs out, and I fight, I fight with everything I have to stay alive. Because I want to live. Damn, do I want to live.

  Fire burns within my chest as I realise the truth in those simple, easy words.

  I want to live.

  Damn, do I want to live.

  And then, everything is right.

  Time slows in a rush. I change from a catapulting ball of death to a dandelion floating on the breeze, a daydream of sweet release.

  I’m safe.

  Everything is fine.

  And in that moment I finally hear Joel’s truth. He was always there to catch me, and I’ll forever be grateful for that. Yet the real rush is in falling, whatever the consequence. In not knowing the outcome. In that moment where you’ve risked it all, you’ve laid everything on the line, and it could go either way.

  It’s what I did when I jumped out of a plane today.

  And it’s what I did when I gave Joel my heart.

  As we float gently down to earth, Eric laughs and yells, “How was it?”

  The scent of eucalyptus wafts toward me as. To the left, I see the hot-air balloon field, the multi-coloured balloon shining tall in the morning light. To the right, I see forest, houses, and then the endless blue of the ever-powerful ocean, stretched out as far as the eye can see.

  In the sky above me to the left, a single star winks. It’s bright, unnaturally so against the pale pink of the dawn sky.