Page 42 of Break Your Fall

I know in my gut that Julian, Camille, nor myself would’ve reached Reyna in time or have been able to find her under those waves; they were erratic, the sky too dark.

And she wasn’t coming up.

I would’ve lost my own life trying to save hers, because I wouldn’t have come up until I had her in my arms.

So if Banks hadn’t been with Reyna on that ski. . .

He cares about her.

Yeah, yeah.My concern for Reyna was justified, but so was Julian’s assurance.

“Thank you.” My gratitude is genuine because it’s about Reyna, but my tongue still curls in disgust because it’s to Banks.

“If you wanna thank me, you could—”

“No.” Because, on the opposite end, Reyna wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place if it weren’t for this guy. So, no way I’m going to help him get with her. My heart wouldn’t let me, in any case, and she doesn’t even think about him that way.

I move to shove him out again, and he gives me another protest shove as my mom yells out, “You’re worse than a child, Ashby.”

We freeze in place, Banks’s skateboard pressed into my chest, my heart accelerating underneath the wheels as his stare stays focused toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing now?” Dad questions with a harsh tone.

“Adding baby food to the grocery list!”

Banks laughs. “Damn, your mom’s savage.”

“Fine,” I blurt out to get him to leave before he hears more. “I’ll text you something, justget out of my house.”

“Okay,hands off!” He flings my hands away from him as I start to push him out. “Wait—really?” I give him a last good shove and he flings me away again, glancing around the hall as I walk his ass out. “Why have I never lived with you?”

I almost choke on the thought. “Because I’m not Julian,” I say, having never been so happy to admit that.

“Damn right you’re not.”

After closing my front door on Banks, I meet my parents in the kitchen as Dad’s yelling at Mom across the table.

“I can’t just leave now. I have nothing set up yet. We had aplan.”

“Your plan doesn’t matter anymore,” I yell over them to be heard. Their voices cut off at my presence, Dad’s hands balling against the table with a harsh exhale, Mom’s mouth hanging open.Yeah. Me. Your son.The guy who knows their marriage is shit, so they don’t have to wait to completely fall apart now. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t need to hear this? That maybe I can’t?” My voice strains and Dad lifts his face to Mom.

“Your mother took it upon herself to start this one.”

Mom spits, “You don’t—”

“I don’t care.”

“Watch your tone,” Dad scolds me, imposing hisdo as I say, not as I dophilosophy, a strong rub ondo as I say.

“I can’t take this anymore,” I conclude, eyes on my father. “So,I’mmoving out. Today.”

“What?” Mom asks with wide eyes as Dad mocks and condescends, “You can’t go anywheretoday. Blareton dorms are still closed.”

“Yeah, but the guest house is open,” I say back, and Dad looks at me like I’ve solved all of his problems.

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

Probably because Dad’s first thought would never be to sendhimselfto the doghouse.

---