Dad's car screeched as it hit the driveway. He jumped out and Mom climbed out of the passenger side. They both looked chalky with fright.

"Ella." Mom was the first to reach us. "What happened? Fran said you fainted."

"Is that all she mentioned?" I held her arm. I still hadn't regained my balance. The shocking revelations of the last half hour had knocked me off balance in every possible way.

"She said some other things," Dad said sternly. I glanced up to see that he was standing with his arms crossed in front of the steps as if he were guarding the house. "Son, maybe it's better if you just move on. I think you've done enough."

"No, he's not the one who's done enough," I snapped. "It's you, my mom and dad, and all the damn people in this town. Fynn stays. We are going to go inside, and you are both going to explain to me why the heck you let me believe that I wasn't part of that awful day."

Fynn was quiet and my parents, who were apparently trying to figure out what to say, were quieter still, as I headed inside and found a place on the couch. I closed my eyes for a second to stop the room from spinning. I opened them to three anxious faces. An inappropriate, nervous and somewhat necessary laugh shot from my mouth. "This is surreal. I need the one thing I can count on as real. Where is Boone?"

Fynn glanced at my dad, who nodded his approval. Fynn walked out and returned with his dog. I patted the seat cushion next to me, and Boone hopped up and stretched across my lap. Just having his soft fur under my hand helped me feel better.

"You need a drink of juice," Mom piped up suddenly. "You have low blood sugar. Orange juice will help."

"No, Mom, my stomach couldn't handle it. I'm fine. Pull up some chairs. With the three of you standing and hovering over me, I feel like you're all waiting for me to grow wings and fly away. Which, now that I think about it, would be just what I need right now."

Dad and Fynn grabbed two chairs from the kitchen and Mom turned the easy chair toward the couch. They sat down but were still staring at me, apparently waiting for those wings.

"Well, since you all seem stunned speechless, I'll get the conversation started." Now that the dizziness had subsided and I was more stable, I was feeling more than just a little angry at everyone. It seemed deception had not only followed me my whole life and by an entire town, no less, it had also followed me straight into love. Fynn had deceived me too, but in an entirely different way.

I looked at my dad, deciding he was the go to person for a more straightforward explanation. My mom would, no doubt, dot it with drama and hyperbole. I just needed the real story. "I blacked out when I was standing at the park, and I know why. It was shock. Everything came back to me. I don't know how I managed to keep it suppressed for so long, just like I don't know why you guys kept the truth from me all this time. Why did you? Dad?"

"It sort of just happened. We didn't set out to hide it from you, but the circumstances just led to it. We decided it was better to let you go on thinking that you weren't on the bus. Dr. Yates thought so too. She was convinced that once the trauma wore off, the memory of that day would return and then you'd be able to talk about it. But it never happened. So we—" He looked at Mom. "We just decided not to bring it up."

I shook my head in disbelief. I found it was harder than ever to look at Fynn, mostly because he looked so hurt. After all, this had changed everything. I knew I still loved him, but he'd had this bold deception going the entire time we were together. I wasn't sure I could accept that. Just like I wasn't sure how I would have reacted if he'd told me the truth. It's entirely possible I would have walked away from him and never looked back. But at least he wouldn't have been betraying my trust.

"I don't get it. How did I not know what happened? I remember waking up sick with a fever and everything was a chaotic blur after that."

"You woke with a sore throat that morning, remember?" Mom had gotten her bearings and chimed in. "And you stomped around so angry because I insisted you stay home."

"Yes, let's not rehash the humiliating stuff. But if you didn't let me go, how did I get on that bus?"

Mom's face whitened, and she put her hand to her mouth to regain that short-lived composure. "You put up such a fuss, I decided to let you go. I decided a little sore throat shouldn't keep you from your first trip to the ocean. And I knew you'd never forgive me if I kept you home."

I stared down at Boone's plush fur as I ran my fingers over it. More of that day was coming back to me. "I remember. I hugged you and danced around. Ethan was making fun of me for being such a spoiled brat. I also remember that it wasn't just a little sore throat. I didn't want to let on how bad it was, so I just pretended it was no big deal."

Dad leaned back on his chair, no longer as uptight. It seemed having the truth finally set free was going to lift a burden from both of them. "You had strep throat. That was why it was so easy for you to push the accident from your head. Your fever spiked, and you were so sick, you were delirious. Everything was such a nightmarish blur for us. Your mom and I and the whole town were upside down from the horror of it all. You—and the driver—" Dad added harshly. I didn't need to look at Fynn to know that he tensed at the words. "Somehow, you two had survived the crash with hardly a bruise. Mom pleaded with the responders at the crash site to let us take you home. She couldn't part with you or step into a hospital. Dr. Yates came to the house to check you out for broken bones and contusions. She diagnosed you with strep throat. She put you on antibiotics right away, but the fever was so high, you were totally out of it."

Mom sniffled and I knew it was only a matter of time before the first sob broke. "When you came out of the fevered fog, you couldn't remember any of it. Dr. Yates told us to let it come back to you on your own time. But that never happened. Until now." She turned a scowl Fynn's direction.

"Don't look at him like that, Mom. Fynn had no idea I'd been on the bus that day. I told him what I thought was the truth, that I'd been sick in bed all day." Boone released a dog sigh and stretched his paws out in front of him. I patted his head. "So the whole town kept this from me. Now that's what I call teamwork."

"You were still too sick to attend the memorial service in the park. We asked everyone not to tell you, certain that you would eventually remember everything on your own. Butterfield might be a small, dull little town, but its people are loyal to each other. And after awhile, it didn't seem to matter that you had suppressed the accident. It wasn't going to bring anyone back."

Fynn sat forward. "You're wrong." It wasn't anger as much as disbelief that edged his tone. "It did matter. Only Ella knew what happened that day. My dad couldn't remember how the bus went off the road, and you silenced the one person who might have had the answers. Instead, you all came up with baseless theories, theories that sent my dad to his grave."

"Now hold on." Dad lifted up in his chair and thrust out his chest, which was as cute as it was kind of pitiful, especially sitting next to Fynn.

"Dad, he's right. I do have the answers, and I think once you hear them, everyone in this town is going to owe Fynn an apology."