Page 12 of Wreckage

Adrian scoffed, shaking his head. “Jesus. Just ignore her. She doesn’t have anything important you need to talk to her about. She never does.”

Her eyes dimmed a little at his words. A fleeting sadness passed over her face before she looked at me again.

I didn’t know why, but that look made something shift inside me. My chest tightened, and I sat forward just a bit more.

I cleared my throat. “Did you talk to Dad?”

She blinked, then shook her head, her full pink lips turned down into a slight frown. “No. Not since he called last week about coming home.” Her voice was quiet.

It wasn't like she was sad about it. More like she expected it. Like it didn’t even surprise her anymore. The idea that anyone wanted to reach out to her seemed to confuse her, even though our dad doted on her like she was his own. It had been a sore subject for both Adrian and me growing up. It didn’t seem right. We’d spend hours in my room, discussing what bullshit it was. He paid for everything. All her ballet lessons. Her piano classes. Her art lessons. All of it. He even set up a trust fund and told her she didn’t need to work. He paid for her apartment, or at least I thought he did. From what he’d told me, it was a small place near the campus. The fact that I didn’t even know where she lived made me cringe. It seemed like something a sibling should know.

She did work in the evenings; that much I knew. She taught ballet to children at the theater near campus, and if I had to guess, it was the only bright spot she had in her life because, from what I’d noticed about her, it was what made her blue eyes light up like the morning sky whenever someone spoke about it to her. Not that many did, but our dad did. Maybe he knew it was the one thing she loved, so he used it to connect to her.

I didn’t know what to say to her answer, so I stared back at her for a long beat.

Something about the way she looked at me made my chest feel even tighter.

I was suddenly urged to say something else—to keep talking to her, to make her look at me like that again.

But I shoved it down because I had nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

Instead, I nodded and turned back to the window, watching as the plane moved along the runway after clearing for takeoff.

I forced myself not to check on her. I was sure she was gripping herseat, terror in her pretty eyes. Seeing that look on her face whenever we flew always made me feel things I didn’t like to feel.

Adrian put his earbuds back in, closing his eyes. He was probably listening to some new audiobook—he didn’t like being bothered during flights and tended to zone out beneath some new book on god knows what. Since he was studious, I expected it to be classical literature or some non-fiction astronomy book. Who knew with him? He was a lifelong learner, it seemed.

I leaned my head back against the seat, my chest feeling heavier than before.

The stress of everything pressed down on me—Amanda, my future, my family, my doubts.

I was supposed to have everything figured out by now.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t know if I wanted to go to law school. I didn’t know if I wanted to work for Dad. I didn’t know if I wanted to marry Amanda, even though I’d asked her like a dumb shit because I’d caved beneath the pressure.

And I didn’t know why Elena was suddenly taking up so much space in my fucking head.

I closed my eyes and exhaled.

Please,I thought, pressing my knuckles against my forehead.Give me some kind of answer.

Just for the weekend.

Just for everything.

For anything.

Chapter 6

Adrian

Flying across the country always sucked.

I hated long flights. I hated sitting still for hours with nothing but stale air and engine noise for company. I hated how time seemed to stretch endlessly when there was nothing to do but wait.

Most of all, I hated flying home.

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