Page 154 of The Bridges I've Burned

“Zander?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” I managed to say.

“Look, I don’t know why you didn’t call,” she went on. I opened my mouth to say something, but none of the reasons I had to offer up were good enough. “But I wanted to tell you something she told me before it’s too late.”

“Too late?”

“She saw your dreams come true on that stage, Zander, and she couldn’t compete. So, she focused on the one thing she could control—her own. She quit her job, cut ties with her parents, and finally started doing things for herself, but?—”

“But what?”

“She misses you.”

I swallowed hard, finally realizing what a complete idiot I’d been. “I gotta go.”

“Zander—” She called out my name in confusion.

“My dreams didn’t come true on that stage, Marin,” I told her. “They came true the night I met her.”

“Well then, where the hell are you going?”

“To book a flight,” I said.

ELENA

“What did you not understand about the word no?” I asked my best friend for the fourth time.

She shrugged, pulling into the parking lot like she’d lost her damn mind. “You said we could do whatever I wanted today. This is what I want.”

“I really should have put parameters on that,” I groaned as we both stepped out of the car. “How the hell did Macon get out of this?”

“He’s spending the night with Billy and Eli. They haven’t had a guys’ night since we got back from the honeymoon.”

“So, he gets out of this because he has a penis? That’s what you’re saying?”

She rolled her eyes as we both headed for the door.

It had been an emotional weekend.

Friday marked the sixth anniversary of Daniel’s passing.

We’d spent some time at the memorial, where Daniel’s name was etched, along with the twelve others who were lost that day. We placed flowers, and Marin left a small painting. After, we headed back to Macon and Marin’s and made a big meal full of Daniel’s favorite—nachos—and then spent the night sharing our favorite stories of my brother.

If my mom or dad had tried to contact me, I wouldn’t have known.

I’d blocked their number two weeks ago, and I’d never felt freer.

We were barely to the door, and I could already hear someone butchering Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats.”

“I think a few guys had better watch their cars tonight.” Marin snorted out a laugh. “That girl sounds pissed.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Marin, but most men suck.” I pulled the door open, and the sound of the pissed-off girl’s voice doubled.

“That’s not true,” she argued as I let her move past me, and we headed toward the bar.

“You’re still in the honeymoon phase of marriage. You’re not allowed to have an opinion.”

She pursed her lips as we found two empty seats. “And you’re still in the I’m so stubborn I refuse to text Zander stage.

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