Page 109 of The Story of You

Maybe I wasn’t much or the best or capable, but I was still all Oliver had. He needed me to get fucking capable immediately. If I was going to leave Aleksander, it had to be then. He would know if I was planning something. I wouldn’t be able to lie to him and he wasn’t going to let me go.

Fuck. I was so stupid. I’d cajoled him into combing the Earth for me. The way we spoke of it made it our love letter. The thought of leaving him was paralyzing. It hollowed my heart to think of life without him and I knew it would break to pieces.

I picked Oliver up and we touched foreheads as he trembled in my arms. The fog lifted, blowing away as if it was never there. My path became clear. “Nothing will ever hurt you again, Eaglet. I’m not much, but I’ll become something for you.”

Methodically, my heart splintering forever, I stuffed everything I could think to stuff in my ’73 Monte Carlo. When Oliver was secure in his seat, I drove without stopping.

I’d get Darius and then I didn’t know. Fear ripped at my insides like they were tissue paper. I didn’t know what Aleksander would do. He held all the cards. He had connections that could track us. If I could at least get to Darius, I could prove he was alive and that I wasn’t crazy—that was a start.

I had a target, but no arrow. It was a risk I had to take.

Even if I was making the worst decision of my life, the only way I’d survive it was with my brother.

I needed Darius.

* * *

Oliver

My face is wet. I can’t wipe the tears fast enough. Okay, I need to stop now. I need to … need to stop. I feel like I’m running with Silas. I suppose in a way I am. We ran together.

We escaped together.

ChapterThirty-Three

Oliver ~ May 23rd, 2009

Ican’t catch my fucking breath. Thankfully, Darius has never kept as keen an eye on me as Silas has. Sure, he began on high alert, but his own problems have distracted him, and he’s focused on punching his way through the heavy bag. There’s time for me to set the book aside and move my panic around via stretching my muscles. I’ve been sitting still for well past the Oliver limit anyway. Choosing one of my glittery tutus, I set up at the barre and begin with a warm up.

Darius is beating the shit out of the punching bag. I’ll bet Asher pissed him off again. “Should you be doing that? If someone yells at me for letting you do that, I’ll have your fucking head, Oliver.”

“Keep up. All Oliver dance bans have been lifted. I’m just going to stretch anyway.”

He doesn’t say any more about it. I take that as a sign I can continue. “I see why everyone thinks I’m spoiled now.”

“That’s what you’re getting from that book?”

The heavy thuds continue at a rapid pace against the sand-filled bag.

“No, but it’s the least heavy thing. I don’t want to talk about any of the heavy shit.” We already did that earlier.

He sighs like it’s his job to teach the whole world everything and he’s tired of it. “Get your feathery dancing eagle ass over here.”

I gracefully glide over, still in my tutu, while he grabs something from one of the shelves I never bother with. I only bother with the dancing side of the gym.

“Hold out your hand,” he says.

I have unwavering trust in both of my brothers. I do it without questioning him. He begins wrapping my hand in a set of pink wraps. My heart lifts. “Silas is going to murder you.”

He waggles his eyebrows. “I believe that order went for you too. We go down together. You still in?”

I shrug. I’m already grounded. I think. “I’m in. Where did these come from?”

“I bought them for you a while ago. I’m sure Silas has seen them by now. He didn’t chuck them; I assume that means he’s thinking about letting you keep them.”

The last time Darius tried to teach me to box, I fractured my knuckle. Silas almost had a stroke.

“Wait,” he says, pausing before he wraps the other hand. “Is the Italian going to have the mafia take me out?”