Page 21 of Playing Rucking Hard

“Oh, Sage,” I rush to hug my sister, emotions flooding back from years of fighting over who would lick the whisk or bowl while our mother tried to play referee before stealing them for herself if we kept fighting.

With more strength than I expected, Sage shoves me away, but her face is full of smiles when a hot cookie pelts my face.

“Oh, no you don’t!” I squeal, taking two from a cooling rack and chasing her out of the kitchen before cornering her in the living room. “If you think you’re safe here, you’re wrong,” I say, lining up my shot. “Since you don’t clean anyway, why should I care?”

The first cookie glances the back of her head while the other breaks against the wall as she sprints around me, back to the kitchen.

It’s the fight we needed. Laughing and dodging, until there isn’t a whole cookie in the apartment. Even large crumbs are collected and used until my hair is matted with melted chocolate lumps and Sage’s face has white streaks down her cheeks where happy tears wash away the chocolate crumb.

We haven’t laughed this much since … since before I left for the States. With nothing left to use as missiles, we end up in the kitchen and collapse down the kitchen cupboards until we’re sitting next to each other with a front-row view of the mess.

“Mum would tell us that you started it, so you clean it,” I say, remembering the look she would get—trying so hard to be cranky and resisting the urge to join in our food fights.

Sage shrugs, finds a chunk of cookie, and pretends to throw it at me, only to shove it in her mouth.

“So, do you want the dustpan or the broom?” I ask when we are all laughed out.

Sage gets up and grabs the dustpan and brush, starting with cleaning off the benchtops while I take the broom into the living room.

For the first time in forever, we fought like sisters and worked together to clean like sisters. And I promise myself that whatever it takes to pay for therapy will be worth it.

Swan 4- You avoid me like I’m a threat. Maybe I am. Not to your career, but to your walls. Why does pushing me away feel like it’s hurting you more than me? #13274

It does hurt me … it does. But what choice do I have? Sage has to come first.

Alone in my bedroom, I cautiously open the fifth swan. I understand why Dylan numbered them. If the first four questions are difficult to answer, the fifth is almost impossible.

Swan 5 – I said I’d be your next ex. But what if I don’t want to be an ex? What if this is more? What will it take for you to take the risk? #13275

Risk? Everything about him is a risk.

I carefully collect the five swans and place them in the bottom of my makeup case, with the others. I’ve found myself looking at them as some sort of emotional shield when I need a reason to smile. Throwing together an assignment at the last minute because the lecturer refused an extension? Dylan’s swan asking which person explained me became my inspiration. Being called out by Kareene because my leg lifts were off at training? Dylan’s swans were the protective shield around my heart. On what would have been my parents’ twentieth wedding anniversary? I slept with his first swan under my pillow, wanting to believe Dylan would dry my tears if I let him.

Should I make him a dragon note? No. I’m attending the charity event tonight and he’s likely to be there, too. If he is, it’ll be the first time we’ve had the chance to speak since his firstswan note. It’s the first chance I’ll have to decide if he’s worth the risk.

Sage pushes me onto a chair, holding my curling wand as if it’s a sword.

“You never used to be so bossy,” I say with a fake grumble. “But I can never get the curls as even as you do.”

Her eyes have become even more expressive, and she uses this power to challenge people to look for her physical cues. Sage is making friends, and I see the messy evidence of them hanging out after school most afternoons. She has rejoined the world of the living with two exceptions, her silence and the nightmares.

Yes. After three nights of blissful sleep—where I got up several times just to ensure she was still breathing because that’s the person I’ve turned into—last night I thought a neighbor would call the police on me, again.

“Are we ever going to talk about your nightmares?” I ask, thinking that while Sage is doing my hair would be a good time to get her talking. Instead, her eyes frost over. Sage carefully places my curling wand on the vanity, shaking her head at me as if I’ve committed a heinous crime. Before I have a chance to react, she’s bolts from the bathroom, and the apartment shakes from her slammed bedroom door.

“I guess not,” I call, because I’m still her sister and she’s still a little brat. “And thanks for finishing my hair before you decide to tantrum.”

I do the best I can to match Sage’s technique and have just put on my favorite nude heels before the Mavericks’ driver texts from downstairs. Half an hour later, Skye and I are dropped off in the circular driveway of the Royal Monument hotel in the city.

Will Dylan like what he sees?And why do I hope he’s here alone?

“Don’t be nervous,” Skye says as we’re about to enter the ballroom. “Lloyd McMillan has sponsored the brain injury charity for years and his people organize this event. Last year, it became The charity event of the year, probably because he owns a team that plays contact sport and raising money became personal.”

“Because any of the players might benefit from the research we are raising money for here tonight?” I say, not wanting to admit there’s also a little part of me that hopes this sort of research can help people like Sage. I’m still not convinced her issues are a combination of physical injury from the accident and psychological trauma. At least I convinced her to go back to swimming. Perhaps swimming laps will give her the time to process in a safe place while she’s awake? At this point, I’ll try anything and who knows what conversations I’ll overhear tonight that could also help.

“Exactly.” Skye asks as a waiter offers us champagne. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. Do you know what we’re supposed to be doing here?”

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