Page 5

Troy

I was so fucking over this weekend. I’d said a hundred times already.

Amanda and I had been fighting since the party. She wouldn’t let Elena or the engagement go. Everything out of her mouth had Elena’s name attached to it, even my reasoning for not wanting to announce our engagement. Whenever I thought we’d let it go, she found a way to drag me back in.

Elena.

The engagement.

The future.

It was all too much, and it was on repeat.

My senior year was already drowning me in expectations. According to my dad, law school or the company were my options.

I didn’t know which one I wanted.

Maybe I didn’t want either.

And now, on top of it, Amanda was breathing down my neck about when we were announcing our engagement, why I was keeping it a secret, and what my problem was. It was never-fucking-ending.

It didn’t help that she was still hung up on how I’d reacted to those guys at the party. It only added fuel to her fire. My phone buzzed for the hundredth time in the last hour.

Amanda: So, we gonna talk about it?

I stared at the message, my jaw tightening.

Amanda: Or are you gonna pretend you didn’t overreact to those guys talking about Elena?

Amanda: You don’t even like her, Troy. Why did it bother you so much?

Amanda: You’re acting weird about her. Admit it.

I clenched my teeth before exhaling hard. I wasn’t acting weird about Elena. I didn’t like hearing guys talk about her like that.

That was normal. At least, it seemed normal to me. Despite us not having a close relationship or any relationship at all, she was still my stepsister. I wasn’t going just to let a bunch of fucking assholes talk shit about her like that.

Another message popped up before I could answer.

Amanda: And stop ignoring me. We need to talk, Troy. You left this morning and didn’t even tell me goodbye!

I scrubbed my hand over my face and turned off my phone just as the plane was about to take off.

The last thing I needed was more fighting.

Amanda could wait until we landed in California. Maybe she’d be cooled down by then, and we could have a civilized conversation. I very much doubted it, though. Knowing her like I did made me realize I was probably only making shit worse.

I slouched back in my seat, glancing at Adrian sitting beside me, a seat between us. I didn’t need to ask to know he was moody as hell.

He still wasn’t over Elena being late. Not that I expected him to be. He tended to have an issue with punctuality. Being pissed over a few minutes regarding anything always seemed to irritate him. It was worse when it involved her. I’d noticed that over the years. I think he sometimes liked her being late, so he could dislike her a little more.

I followed his line of sight, my eyes landing on her. She sat as far from us as possible, which wasn’t all that far. Simply an aisle over. She was ignoring us, though. Not that I cared. That was just how Elena was.

But something about her felt off. She seemed more withdrawn than usual. Maybe it was the stress of nearly missing the flight. Of course, since I knew her fear of heights, I ventured it may be that, too. She always tried to avoid planes. Dad even said she’d tried to take a bus home across the country. He sounded sad when he told me about the conversation, citing that he wished he could help her overcome her fear.

Or maybe it was something else going on with her. Who the hell knew?

I frowned, staring at her for a moment longer before saying, “Elena.”

She didn’t react.

Her earbuds were in, her fingers lightly tapping the cover of whatever book she held.

“Elena,” I said again, louder.

Still nothing.

I glanced at Adrian, who scowled.

“Leave her alone, Troy. Fucking hell, man. She’s probably listening to some classical musical bullshit.”

I ignored him, leaning forward slightly, knowing damn well he was one to listen to classical music bullshit. “Elena.”

This time, she finally looked up and over, her big blue eyes meeting mine. My heart jumped in my chest at the sudden attention.

She pulled out one earbud, her eyes flickering between me and Adrian, her brows knitted. “What?”

It wasn’t an angry, irritated answer. It was more curious, even confused. I guess she had a right to be. Neither Adrian nor I ever bothered to do much with her, especially regarding communication.

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 her seat, 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.