Page 5 of You're the Reason

“I’m fine.” The familiar words left her mouth as she blinked away the tears. “Besides, surely I can make it through one dinner with my parents peacefully, and I will be back dancing with you tomorrow.” Probably.

Her gaze landed on the one solo photo of herself. She was about five and decked out in all her pink ballet glory. Pink leotard, pink tights, and pink ribbons in her hair. When was the last time she’d been that happy? “Do you ever think about quitting?”

“Every day.” Mallory laughed but her tone grew serious. “But then I think about how much my parents sacrificed to get me here and of all the people who would kill to be in my spot, and I decide I have it pretty good. And I love what I do... most of the time. And so do you.”

But did she? She honestly didn’t know anymore.

“And let’s face it.” Mallory’s voice grew soft. “It’s all we know. It’s who we are. We’ve been on the high-speed train our whole lives, there’s no easy exit.”

“Well, look who’s home.”

Grace jumped and spun toward her brother’s voice. Gabe was leaning against the side of the archway that led toward the dining room, sporting torn jeans and a black Metallica T-shirt, both in need of a wash. His long, stringy hair drew attention to the dark circles under his eyes and unnaturally dilated pupils. He was a little high, and a lot lost. “It’s become quite an impressive display of Gregory the Great, hasn’t it? I think Mom will commission a gold statue by the end of the year.”

“I’ll call you later.” Grace ended the call with Mallory, pocketed her phone, and narrowed her gaze on Gabe. “Don’t you miss him at all?”

A look she couldn’t quite interpret flashed across his face before he nodded toward the dining room. “Don’t worry. Dad still keeps all your accolades in his den. Good thing I’m a two-bit loser so mom can have her Zen-producing bare walls.”

“What are you doing here?” Grace wasn’t going to take his bait. Gabe was always up for a fight, and today she had no desire to give it to him. “Mom and Dad said you haven’t been around in a while.”

“I’ve been around, just not when they’re here. It’s easier that way. Even you know that. I just show up and grab a little food. Help myself to a little of this.” Gabe lifted a ten-dollar bill from the end table. “A little of that.”

He picked up a Bluetooth speaker and weighed it in his hands as if trying to estimate its value.

“Put it back.” Grace crossed her arms over her chest and tried to look tough, but he had a good four inches on her five-seven.

“A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”

“You mean a drug addict has to do what a drug addict has to do.”

Gabe shrugged as he set the speaker back down. “Judge all you want, but you have your own addictions.”

His same old pattern. Deflect and attack.

“I don’t have any addictions.”

“Are you saying you would be okay not being the best one out there? That you would settle for something other than the starring role?” He offered a sad attempt at jazz hands. “Prima ballerina.”

He waited for her comeback, but she’d already given him more of a fight than she’d planned. Besides, he had no idea how much his words hit the target right now.

Gabe shrugged and shoved the ten in his pocket. “Mom and Dad are certainly happy to live in denial when it comes to me. Because as much as Mom says I haven’t been around, there’s a ten-dollar bill here every day. As much as they wantthatson back”—he motioned to the photos of Gregory—“they’re pretty happy to keepthisson invisible. After all, I was the one who should’ve died. No one would even miss me.”

“That isn’t true.” Her voice came out a raw whisper.

“Isn’t it?”

Her parents thrived on perfection, and Gregory had been perfect. Until he wasn’t.

Gabe smirked, but there was a pain in his expression she hadn’t expected, something even his well-rehearsed act couldn’t hide. His gaze flicked out the window. “Mom and Dad messed us all up pretty good. Then again, we make our own choices... and live with the consequences. See you around.”

Gabe walked out the front door, letting it slam behind him.

Maybe she should follow him, but to say what? Maybe that he could be more than a druggie living off his parents? That Gregory’s death wasn’t his fault? That she wished things could be different between them.

She walked out onto the porch, but he was gone. That was Gabe, quick to come, quick to disappear, and quick to leave damage in his wake.

Grace leaned against the porch railing and eyed the house across the street. With the chipped paint, overgrown grass, and dilapidated shutters, it had seen better days. She often wondered what had happened to Seth Warner and his dark, mysterious eyes.

The first time he talked to her, she’d been just almost eight years old, and he’d been nine. She’d fallen on her bike, and he’d rushed down his porch steps to help her. She’d cut her ankle pretty bad, and he’d helped her to her porch, then ran home to get a rag for the bleeding. By the time he got back, her mom was there. Her mom yelled at him and told him to get the dirty cloth away from Grace. He hadn’t said much, just nodded and left. They didn’t really talk after that, as he was mostly Gabe’s friend but had this way of watching her with those dark eyes. Not in a creepy way. Just in a way that said he’d be there if she ever needed him again.

---