Page 182 of Catch the Sun

“I’ve never been free of you,” I tell him, needing him to know. It’s imperative he knows. “Never. You’ve been here. I’ve carried you with me this whole time.”

He blinks back at me, his eyes dimming. “You never reached out.”

“I know. I wanted to.” My bottom lip wobbles as I pull my hand away, wrapping my arms around myself to counter the chill of that truth. “I didn’t know if I could, if you wanted me to,” I admit, exhaling a frayed breath. “I thoughtyou moved on by now. I figured you created a new life, met someone else…”

“What? No,” he says. “There’s been nobody else.”

This has my chin popping up, eyes flaring. “Really?”

“There’s no one else, Ella. It never crossed my mind. Not once.”

“Not even…” I swallow hard, grit forming in my throat. “Not even something casual? It’s been a long time. I get it if you—”

“No,” he answers quickly, frowning. “Not even that.”

I’m taken aback.

I never would have guessed he’s been celibate, untethered to female companionship. He’s a twenty-one-year-old man, after all. Gorgeous. Kindhearted and noble. Perfect in every way.

A tear slips out and I swipe it away, his unwavering devotion filling my chest with something heavy. “But…I left you,” I whisper raggedly, my gaze held tightly to his. “We broke up.”

Max turns and fully faces me, shaking his head as he lets out a hard breath. Raising his hand, he cups my cheek with a featherlight touch, his thumb stroking away my falling tears. “We didn’t break up, Sunny,” he murmurs back. “We just broke.”

My breath hitches.

An avalanche of heartache rains down on me, burying me alive.

“I wasn’t sure if we were fixable,” I admit through the knot in my throat. “Everything that happened…with Jonah…”

He looks away, down at the ground, and my chest contracts with grief and sorrow.

I still think about my brother…every day. It’s impossible not to.

But it doesn’t hurt as much as it once did. In the original case against him, there was always a measure of second-guessing. He never admitted guilt. The evidence had been devastating, but when you love somebody that much—when your whole life is woven and braided with theirs—it’s hard to believe they are capable of committing such a grisly crime. I still don’t know the truth. I’ll probably never know what happened the night Erin Kingston and Tyler Mack lost their lives.

After his original conviction for the double homicide was overturned, Jonahfound himself in a legally precarious position. The principle of double jeopardymeant he couldn’t be retried for those particular murders. So when faced with the new charge in the death of McKay, Jonah and his counsel decided it was best to avoid another uncertain legal battle.

This time he accepted the plea bargain offered: a reduction of his second-degree murder charge to voluntary manslaughter. In exchange, he was sentenced to fifteen years with the possibility of parole after seven, along with a commitment to attend an anger management therapy program during his incarceration. Given his history and past accusations, many found the sentence lenient.

Even me.

But with the previous trial’s complications and its evidence deemed inadmissible, the prosecution felt this was the most strategic way to ensure Jonah faced some measure of justice. And in the end, Mom didn’t have to suffer through the heartache of another trial, which was a small silver lining.

Max peers back up at me when the silence lingers, setting down his can. “Have you visited him at all?” he wonders.

I shake my head stiffly. Jonah is at a medium-security correctional complex in Pikeville, roughly an hour and a half east of Tellico Plains. “No, but Mom does. She visits him once a month.”

“How do you feel about that?”

I shrug. “I don’t blame her. That’s her son.”

“He’s your brother,” Max says, tone softening. “He was protecting you.”

“He was avenging me,” I correct. “There’s a difference. And I never asked him to do that. God, that’s the last thing I wanted…” More tears threaten when our eyes catch. “How are you doing, Max? With everything?”

His eyes dip to the wood chips beneath our boots. “I’m managing. It’s a strange position to be in…grieving someone you loved, while also resenting them for doing something terrible. I know you get it.” He swallows. “Some days are better than others.”

I do get it. I’m in the exact same position.

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