Mom burst into tears, shaking her head. “No, Ella. Please.”
Ordinarily, Ella would reply to Mom’s anguish with empathy, but every drop of that had dried up since Gigi’s death. “You spent the last six months without seeing me or talking to me,” she said. “So I’m not sure what you’re upset about.”
Martha had gone white, wiping away a tear of her own, and it occurred to Ella she hadn’t seen her sister cry since they were young kids. She wondered now if that was strength or a lack of emotion on her sister’s part. Perhaps Martha had found her own coping mechanisms, and burying her feelings was her way of surviving.
“We wanted to reach out,” Martha started, her voice breaking. “But…”
“But Dad and Elijah forbid it.” Ella couldn’t summon up enough energy to be hurt by that anymore.
“You have to understand—” Martha said.
“No.” Ella cut her off. “I willneverunderstand. I’m your sister.”
“They were certain you’d come around.” Martha tried desperately to justify her actions. “Gigi shouldn’t have put you in that position to begin with! She should have left the house to Mom.”
“Gigi knew Dad would kick me out, sell it, and give all the money to the church.”
“You’re selling it anyway,” Dad snarled. “Ungra—” He stopped mid-word when Maverick closed the distance between them, growling.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” he said in a dark, menacing tone that seemed to have finally penetrated. Guess it was true what they said about standing up to the bully.
Once he was sure Dad had been silenced, Maverick moved away from him, though he continued staring her father down, daring him to open his mouth again.
Whatever limited amount of self-preservation Dad possessed finally kicked in. She could tell the moment he decided to cut his losses and walk.
“Ella’s made a deal with the devil, and she’ll have to answer for it in the afterlife. You’re going to rot in hell.”
She stepped around Maverick, unwilling to tremble in front of this man any longer. “So are you.”
Dad stuttered, his anger choking him too much to respond.
“We’re leaving,” he finally said, running his palms over the front of his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles put there by Maverick. He walked to the door before stopping, waiting for Mom and Martha to follow.
Neither of them did.
Instead, they both looked at Ella.
“I wanted to call you so many times,” Martha said, her voice tight. “I missed you.”
“Martha,” Dad barked.
But for the first time in her life, her sister ignored him.
Ella had thought herself past the tears stage, but apparently not. Regardless of Martha’s words, Ella couldn’t find it in her to forgive her sister. Not yet, anyway. “You left me to grieve alone. You hurt me.”
Martha sniffled, nodding. “I know.”
“I’m mad at you,” she said.
“You should be. I’m mad at me.”
Dammit.
Ella wiped her eyes, trying so hard to stem the tears. She hated crying, especially in front of her father.
“If you were serious,” Martha started, hesitantly. “I mean, if maybe, somewhere down the line, we can…” She shrugged, struggling. “Work things out,” she finally said. “The boys would be beside themselves if they got to ride horses.”
Ella’s shoulders relaxed. A hell of a lot of things would need to be worked out, but she appreciated her sister’s desire to try. To be honest, it was more than Ella had expected. She was sort of blown away by the fact neither Mom nor Martha were jumping at Dad’s demand that they all leave.