LUKE
I had to leave Ella behind, although I still had a lot of questions for her. Most notably, why she changed her name from Ella Stone to Ella Gold. I’m sure there’s a simple answer there, or maybe I just want that to be the case so I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Either way, there were more pressing matters to attend to.
After finding out that Dom had met with Mason Cartwright before Taylor’s abduction, I began to question everything I thought I knew about the man I look up to so much. Finding out that his fingerprints are on the letters that Ella has been receiving is just another strike against him, and I can’t wait any longer to confront him.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But you’ll never fool me again. That’s the attitude I’m carrying with me as I march up the sidewalk leading to Dominic’s front porch. I rush up the three steps and push my finger against his doorbell once, and then hold it for a good three seconds for emphasis.
When I hear footsteps clattering down the stairs from inside, I push my finger against the button once more. Again, for emphasis.
Dom rips the door open and then drops down into somewhat of a sulk. He’s wearing a tee shirt and underwear and looks like he’s just been dragged out of a dead sleep with his eyes barely open.
“What are you doing at my house at three in the morning?” he questions groggily, wiping away sleep from his eyes. “This better be damn important, King.”
“Do you really want to have this conversation on this porch?” I question, but don’t wait for a response before I’m pushing past him into the foyer. Of the five of us boys, he by far has the nicest accommodations. A fancy house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. I’m pretty sure he’s the only single person without kids living in the entire neighborhood.
He shuts the door with a thud and twists to face me with his arms crossed over each other. “I’m really going to have to start re-evaluating my relationships with the four of you,” he says with a hint of snark, but by the flat expression on my face, he should know I’m not here to play games. “You look terrible, by the way. Would you like some ice for that busted face?”
I hold my hand up between us, cautioning for him to slow down on the jokes. I’m prepared to speak, but my throat is dry and coarse. This isn’t easy for me, but I’ve reached a boiling point and I need answers. First, I see that footage of him talking to Mason Cartwright in the factory a day before Summer Smart’s sister is kidnapped and now this?
I don’t want to drag this out with him because I admire him and respect him, and whatever he’s done, he’s still one of my best friends on top of being my boss. “How do you know Ella Gold?”
“Who?” he questions, as he takes a step back towards the steps that lead to the second floor. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.” And just like that, he turns his back to me and begins to ascend up the steps, leaving me to hang high and dry.
If he thinks I’m satisfied with his bullshit of an answer and I’m just going to walk back out that front door, then he’s mistaken.
“Stop lying to me,” I scream at him and then immediately recoil as he turns to stare me down from the top of the landing. “Just tell me the truth,” I say softly, almost as low as a whisper, like I’m begging him for the truth or something. Or even worse, pleading with him because we used to be best friends and ever since I saw him on those tapes talking to Mason Cartwright, I’ve been slipping away from him. He steps carefully down the first few steps and takes a seat. “Tell me how you know Ella Gold because I need to understand. She’s in some serious danger, and I don’t know how to help her.”
“Her name’s not Ella Gold.” He pinches at the bridge of his nose and shakes his head with a sigh. He’s clearly not supposed to be divulging this information.
“Yeah, Marcus said there’s no real record of her before she finished college.” I don’t tell him everything I know—don’t tell him that I know her real name or that I know his fingerprints were found on the letters.
“No, there wouldn’t be.” He folds his hands between his legs. “Ella Gold is a figment of a young girl’s imagination. A girl who was always dreaming of a different life. A girl who used to be so fragile and timid, who became somebody else because that’s who she was expected to be. Only, she didn’t like that version of herself, and the only way she could escape her own anxieties was to change her last name.” He nods and purses his lips, can’t help but to smile just slightly. “She went to school with my sister, back when she was still Ella Stone. They were very close friends for a while.”
“Were you both just going to keep this from me?”
“I doubt if she even knows who I am, or remembers. Besides, it’s a secret that’s better left buried.” He places a hand on each of his knees and rises to stand. He’s towering over me again from his perch at the top of the stairs. He’s about to retire from this conversation and I still don’t have the answers I need. “There are people out there looking for her.”
“Why?”
He shifts his eyes to the side, sighs, and then shifts his attention back to me. “Since you’re so close with her now, maybe that’s a question you should ask her.” He nods once more before turning to clear the last few steps. Once he’s on the landing again, he says to me, “Lock the door on your way out.”
Then, he disappears around a corner, and as I’m standing at the base of the stairs, I hear him slam his bedroom door shut behind him. I turn and drop down onto the first step. It’s an awful feeling knowing your best friend is keeping secrets from you, especially when you’re supposed to be in an equal partnership. The fact that he was able to withhold this information from me makes me second guess everything.
I need to go back to Ella’s place, but I’m hesitant in doing so. I’ve got one more piece of information on her and it should make things easier, but it doesn’t. People don’t just change their names for nothing. It’s all the more clear to me now that she’s running from her past, and it’s finally catching up with her.
She knows the truth about who’s coming after her, but she’s too afraid to admit it. I don’t know how to begin to drag that information out of her, but I’m going to have to try. For now though, I think I just need some time to myself to assess my own feelings in the matter. I need to assess what’s worth fighting for and what’s worth sacrificing. Right now, I’m not sure of anything.
I see my way out and hold my hand against the doorknob before finally pulling it closed. I can’t bring myself to ask Dom why his fingerprints were on the letters and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I know he wouldn’t give me a straight answer, or maybe it’s because I still want to hold onto some imaginative image of who I think he is.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s easier to dig my head deep in the sand.