Page 19 of Survival

“Request? More like hostile demands.”

Nic’s comment was like a jab to my core, and I shot him another glare. “I thought it was more like informative advice,” I retorted before storming off, officially done with the asshole and all the fucking drama of my life.

Chapter 6

JET

I had screwed up. Last night had not gone well. The second Annie had stormed off, I should have followed, but some stupid part of me had thought to give her space. She just needed a minute.

Fuck had I been wrong.

The tension between her and Nic was intense, which made no sense since they’d just met. And okay, yeah, my cousin was doing a good job of being a dick to her while Annie had had a rough couple of weeks, but Annie wasn’t holding any punches either. She’d barely said a word to me last night on the way home, and I knew she was pissed that Nic had come.

I sighed, not knowing what exactly to do, and kept my hands busy going through inventory in the back of my dad’s shop. It had gotten behind with the last few shipments while we’d been away since the crew here was left shorthanded. I think it was the longest break my dad had ever taken from the shop, at least that I could remember. But it had been necessary.

I pulled a few parts from another box and set them on the shelf, debating. I honestly couldn’t even remember the last time Annie had been pissed at me, and I knew I needed to go see her andtalkto her. But I couldn’t leave my dad in a bind here either.

Pulling out my phone, I sent her a text.

Me: I was an idiot last night. I want to make it up to you. As soon as I get off today.

It was an entire twenty minutes before my screen lit up with her reply.

Annie: I just…needed you. Just you.

Tightness in my chest eased, though my middle turned with an edge of guilt. I’d known that. She’d tried to tell me. But I’d invited Nic, anyway. It was just hard not to after what happened that first day in Greece…

The tension in the room was thick and heavy, like I’d wiped out on a wave and couldn’t breathe beneath the surface, the waters choppy and tumbling around me. There was so much in this room that was unspoken. So much that needed to be said, told, and explained. The mystery of my family’s history in Greece had plagued me for a while now, and I was finally here, getting a glimpse at the life my parents and uncle had left behind.

Grandma Aggie lay on the right side of a timeworn, wrought-iron bed. Over her frail form was an old, hand-sewn quilt covered in intricately detailed, geometric patterns that were once obviously bright, vivid colors but were now faded and worn thin, just like the complexion of the woman it covered.

Even the wildflowers on the small table beside the bed were beginning to wilt, as if to match the person they’d been placed there for. I wondered if the rest of my family noticed.

My dad and uncle sat next to the bed near my grandmother’s head in aged, mismatched chairs that had been brought in from the dining area.

Mom stood at the foot of the bed behind my brother and sister, a reassuring hand resting at each of their backs, while Nic and I stood at the bedside behind our dads. Our grandfather brooded in the back corner of the room, staring at the floor with an agonizing expression, his shoulders permanently hunched from age. The anomaly in the room. You could feel his anger swirling with his torment.

Ignoring him, we all listened to the ragged, shallow breathing of my grandmother as she looked up, studying us, smiling amidst her obvious discomfort. Her ocean blue eyes, a matching shade to mine, moved from face to face around her bed.

She started with her sons, staring into the concerned, dark brown eyes on the two very similar faces, an expression of happiness and love covering the deep lines of her face.

After several long minutes, she turned to look sadly at my mom, who only maintained eye contact for a few short seconds before looking down.

Grandma Aggie’s gaze didn’t linger. She just moved on to admire the faces of her youngest grandchildren, love and adoration in her eyes even with their discomfort, the two of them unsure how to react to the woman they’d just met. But when it was my turn, I met her kind stare with curiosity and compassion. It was hard to explain, but I felt like I understood her, even though we’d never exchanged a single word. We didn’t need to. Her bright, free-loving spirit shone through even the dingiest of belongings.

She was like me in a lot of ways. I could feel it. She was simple and content just to be surrounded by what she loved most,whoshe loved most. Annie crossed my mind at that moment, and I wished she could be here with me, to experience this place where my family was from, tomeetthem with me. Would my grandmother have enjoyed meeting the girl I planned to marry?

I smiled at her and received an even wider one in return, a glimpse of her former brilliance shining through before she moved her gaze on to Nic, the same loving expression she’d given the rest of us adorning her face before she looked around at us all. Her faded smile of exuberance was in place once again before she breathed out in an almost inaudible, proud whisper, “They’re beautiful.”

She struggled just for those two words, but I wasn’t sure if it was because the sickness made it hard for her to speak or if it was the effort of translation. I’d kind of assumed my grandparents would be able to speak English easily since my parents could with such fluency, but now, I wasn’t so sure. Any words I’d heard my grandfather mutter since we’ve arrived were in Greek.

“Thank you.” Mom looked up, meeting her mother-in-law’s gaze again.

My eyes traveled around the small bedroom, the space cozy with its warm, yellow walls, light stone floors, and several glass-paned windows opened wide to let in the soft light and breeze from the ocean. The weather wasn’t particularly warm or chilly, just comfortable.

I couldn’t imagine those windows were closed very often, even though a slightly putrid aroma filled the space. It would happen to any room where someone this sick spent most of their time, but still, the walls were warm like thesun, and the curtains fluttering lightly in the breeze were a soft blue to match the Grecian sky.

The dresser against the wall to my right had a light blonde finish and was covered in more than a dozen frames holding pictures of my dad and uncle spanning throughout various stages of their youth. I’d seen so few of my dad, of either of my parents when they were younger, that I couldn’t help but stare.

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