Page 33 of Catch the Sun

“Well, sorry to hear you missed the entertainment. I’m sure you’ll get the recap soon. In fact, I’m confident someone documented it and you’ll get to see it firsthand. Probably on a billboard somewhere.”

He shakes his head. “Did someone hurt you?”

I swallow then turn around to stalk away. “Doesn’t matter. I gotta go.”

“Ella.”

“Leave me alone, Max. I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want you to rescue me. Just stay away from me before I taint your precious reputation.”

He’s blocking my escape before I make it three steps. “You think I give a shit about my reputation?”

I shrug. “Don’t know, don’t care. I don’t want to know anything about you, to be honest. I just want to be left alone.” My chest tightens. I’m not sure I actually mean that, but it’s better this way. Max is a decent person and he doesn’t need to be associated with the school’s waste.

Max stiffens in front of me, shoving his hands in his pockets. He glances down at his shoes for a beat before lifting his eyes to mine. “You don’t deserve whatever happened back there.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And your pity isn’t going to change anything.”

“It’s not pity,” he says. “I’m just trying to be your friend again. Should I stop trying?”

I take a moment to study his face. His icy-blue eyes that somehow look warm. His tousle of brown hair that looks as soft as the expression he wears. I blink. Max sounds genuine and the concept is foreign to me. Brynn! wants to be my friend, too, but I wonder if she means it. I wonder if she could handle everything that comes along with being associated with me. I bet she’d cower under the pressure, the gossip, the sneers and side-eyes. I bet Max would, too.

I look away, sniffling as I swipe at the traitorous tearstains dampening my cheeks. “You know that brother I used to tell you about? The one who wrote me letters?” I ask him. “That’s Jonah Sunbury. As in the convicted murderer sitting on death row.”

“I know,” Max replies. “I saw parts of the trial on TV.”

Curling my fingers into fists, I meet his eyes again. “I’m sure you did. But let me tell you about it from my perspective. From his grieving little sister’s point of view.”

He goes quiet, licks his lips, and answers with a small nod.

“Jonah fell in love with a beautiful girl named Erin. She was outgoing and bubbly, always kind to me. Treated me like a sibling because she was an only child. She was the daughter of that famous actor, Peter Kingston. I’m sure you’veseen his action movies. Erin was his prized possession. A budding actress herself, bound for stardom. Their family had fame, fortune, everything you could ever wish for.” I swallow, catching my breath. “We had money, too. My mother owned an equestrian ranch on the outskirts of Nashville called Sunbury Farms. Erin took up horseback riding lessons and that’s how she met Jonah. It was love at first sight, as they say.” Bitterness drenches my words. I hate that phrase; it’s utter bullshit. “Anyway, I’ll spare you all the gooey details, but their whirlwind romance turned tragic one day when, supposedly, Jonah caught her cheating on him with one of her costars in some made-for-TV movie. Tyler Mack. Sounds like a movie all in itself, huh?”

His throat works as he stares at me, hanging on to every word. “Ella…”

“They say he killed them in cold blood, Max. According to the evidence, my sweet, loving brother fuckingsnapped. And it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment snap; it was a weeklong lethal breakage. Premediated, they called it. He took a shotgun from our mother’s safe. Stalked her for a few days. And then he broke down the door of her high-rise condominium and shot her in the face. He shot Tyler in the back of the head as Tyler was trying to give CPR to what was left of her mouth. Then he shot them both again, just to be sure they were dead…”

Finally, I snap my mouth shut, not wanting to say anymore. He gets the picture. I’ve painted it well enough, and truthfully, there is no palette, no color spectrum, no tools or canvases that could ever fully depict the world I live in, day in and day out.

“Do you think he did it?” he asks softly.

More tears leak out as my stomach lurches with a new wave of nausea. “I didn’t…at first. He was my big brother. My greatest protector. But I saw him covered in their blood. He said he was trying to help them, but…the evidence…” I fold both arms across my abdomen to keep myself from heaving on the spot and finish with, “Yes. I think he did it.”

Max ducks his head and nods, letting out a long breath.

“And yes…I think you should stop trying to be my friend again.”

When I try to move past him, still swiping at my treacherous wet eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, Max stops me one more time.

“I made you a list.”

I freeze. My throat rolls as his words register and I slowly turn around to face him. “A list?”

“Yeah. You said you love lists, so I made one for you.”

I’m staring blankly at him as he reaches into the back pocket of his tapered jeans and pulls out a folded-up piece of notebook paper.

He hands it to me.

I pluck it from between his fingers.

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