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He lets go of a long breath and silence fills the line.

“So,” I say. “Masters is as big of an arsehole as me. I knew it.”

Aldo doesn’t laugh and my heart aches. “Doug . . .”

“How’s Blake?”

“Devastated.” He sighs. “She’s sleeping now. It’s such a fucking mess, Doug. I don’t know what to do.”

I grimace. “You know I’m not the person to ask for advice, right?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“I’m getting on that plane tomorrow,” I say softly. “I have to.”

“I know.”

Silence falls between us again and I listen to the sound of him breathing. There’s music playing faintly in the background and I’m about to ask what’s going on when I remember. Tonight’s the night of the fundraiser.

“Are you wearing a suit right now?” I ask.

Aldo huffs. “Tux.”

“Send me a picture?”

“Fuck you.”

There’s no heat in his words, but the tired resignation hurts more.

“You’ll be okay. You all will.” He huffs again and I smile. “Listen to Grandpa. I know what I’m talking about.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” My throat thickens at the softness of the words that should cut deep. “I need to sort things out, but I’ll be in touch, okay?”

“Really?” he asks. “Please don’t lie. If you’re getting on that plane tomorrow with no intention of ever seeing us or speaking to us again, just be honest.”

Am I? As much as I’ve avoided them this past week, I don’t think I ever thought it was forever.

“It’s the truth,” I say, finally. “I’m a mess and I need to sort myself out. I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep, but I swear this isn’t goodbye. Okay?”

I can hear the questions he wants to ask, but he doesn’t. And after the silence stretches on longer than I can bear, I pull the phone from my ear and hang up.

This whole time, I’ve been convinced I’m a screw up that doesn’t deserve them. If one good thing can come out of Masters’ betrayal, it’s the realization that we’re all screwed up. The difference is, I never lied about it. I’m not saying that makes me better than him, but at least it puts us on an even playing field.

I meant what I said to Aldo. I need to sort myself out. I need to pick up the pieces of my life and put them together in a way that’s worthy of Blake and Rossi. If I can manage that, maybe we stand a chance. Whether they’ll still want me by then is an entirely different question.

JOY

Lane hasn’t tried to contact me. I knew he wouldn’t. He knows me too well. He knows I need the space and time to process things. I haven’t spoken to my mom either. Dad called me the next day and tried to convince me to, but I have nothing to say to her. It’s one thing to try and shape my career the way she wanted, but to lie and manipulate the people in my life?

The worst thing is, Dad knew. He says it wasn’t his idea, but it’s hard to hide college funds disappearing from your bank account. He regrets not making her tell me what she’d done sooner, but I don’t blame him for that. No one makes Emi Blake do anything she doesn’t want to do.

It’s weird. With swim season over, life is different. We start practice the first week of the year, so now I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s the same feeling every year, but this time I feel more lost than usual.

The first Saturday of spring break was hard—the day Doug was supposed to take me to the DJ Lurkstar gig in Portland. Aldo and I spent the day together pretty much in silence. It felt like mourning.

The rest of spring break we spent in San Francisco, which turned out to be an excellent distraction. Aldo showed me around and we hung out with his friends from high school. I can see myself living there after graduation. With him. The problem is, it’ll always be a little bittersweet. So many times, we were hanging out somewhere, and a silence would fall between us—the empty space where Lane and Doug should be, like a void.

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