“No, I’m not,” she protests. “I know exactly what I’m thinking.” But I can tell she doesn’t by the glossiness of her eyes, the vastness of her pupils, and the fact that she’s struggling to keep her eyelids open. “I don’t want to be here anymore, Micha.”

“With me?” I choke, cupping her cheek.

She swallows hard, her eyes scanning mine. “I don’t know.”

“But I thought you knew exactly what you were thinking?” I say, not sure if I’m going about this the right way, but it’s the only way I know how.

“All I know is that I don’t want to feel this.” She slams her hand over her chest, a little too hard. Her eyes are wildly big, filled with fear and panic as her chest heaves for air. “I don’t want to feel all this pain and guilt.”

“What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault.” I place a very unsteady hand over hers, worried I’m going to fuck this up. I’m stunned by how rapidly her heart is beating, thrashing against our hands. She’s probably got so much adrenaline pouring through she’s lightheaded.

“That’s not what my dad and Dean say,” she whispers, pulling her hand away and forcing mine to fall from her chest.

“Your dad and your brother are fucking assholes,” I tell her firmly, leaning over the console. “And it doesn’t matter what they think—no one else matters but you and me. Remember, you and me against the world.”

Her eyelids shut and then flutter open again. “You’re always saying that.”

“Because I mean it. I don’t care about anything else. I could lose anyone else and make it through. But not you, Ella May. I can’t do this without you.”

A few tears fall down her cheeks. “I hate myself.”

“Ella, God damn it, don’t say—”

“No!” she shouts, jerking away from me and huddling against the door. “I fucking hate myself! I do! And I wish you’d just see what I really am. You’re always seeing more in me than what there really is…” She drifts off as more tears spill out and she scans the outside of the car, the trees, the water, the rain, like she’s contemplating running. “If you’d just let me go, you’d be happier.”