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Ameline glances at her and smiles. It’s a particular smile that means, ‘shut up right now or I might lose my shit.’ Somehow knowing her moods makes me feel better, in control. It’s like old times when I knew every little detail about her.
I stretch out a hand. “Either way, why don’t you give me the backpack. I’ll carry it for you.”
“I can carry it myself,” she protests.
“No doubt, but I’ll handle it on the way to the car,” I state firmly, discreetly pointing at my sister.
She’s making this awkward and weird. Lyric might start to ask questions and . . . I’m not sure if either one of us wants to give any answers. Would I care to tell them what I hid so long ago?
“Thank you,” Ame mumbles, trying to sound normal but I can hear the sound of discomfort.
Lyric, blissfully unaware of the tense atmosphere, links her arm through Ameline’s with a cheerful smile. “Lead on, big brother.”
Can I get through this impromptu visit?
She didn’t come for you, I remind myself. And I don’t know if that hurts more than knowing she doesn’t give two fucks about me anymore. This is going to be a fucking nightmare.
Only a few hours, I tell myself.
A few hours and she’ll disappear again from my life.
I can endure it.
I’ve survived worse.
I survived her absence . . . having her around shouldn’t be as painful.
So why does even her nearness stir up memories I’ve tried in vain to forget? It’s as if the door I locked on our past is splintering, cracked open by her unexpected presence. Strange how she can still unravel me with just a glance. But I refuse to be pulled back into her orbit. This time, I’ll be the one to disappear.
Chapter Five
Gabriel
Lyric has only two speeds: hyper and asleep. Not surprisingly, she’s buzzing with energy the entire car ride to my place, chatting about everything and nothing. When we arrive at the penthouse, she heads straight to one of the guest rooms not even bothering with a ‘goodnight.’
Ameline’s gaze drifts toward my sister’s abandoned luggage, a small furrow creasing her brow. “She forgot her bags.”
Leaning against the doorframe, I can’t help but let a half-smile play on my lips. “Everything she needs is in the room. According to Indie and Lyric, Jude and I don’t give two fucks about our guests. Plus, we don’t know how to host, so they make sure that this place is ready for visitors—mainly them,” I explain, then nod toward the open kitchen. “How about some warm milk?”
There was a time when no words were needed between us. I would simply prepare warm milk as the night wound down, and we’d share those quiet moments lost in light conversation, our eyes doing most of the talking. It’s astonishing, almost heart-wrenching, how two people, once connected by small rituals and shared moments, can drift into being complete strangers. Like stars once aligned in the night sky, now they’re light-years apart.
Shaking off the nostalgia and the sudden tightness in my chest, I turn to address the current situation. “So, why are you here?” I ask, my voice barely controlling the new wave of pain, as I pull the rice milk from the fridge. The clink of the pot as I place it on the stove seems louder than usual in the thick silence suffocating me.
“You dragged me here—against my will,” Ameline declares, her tone charged with a quiet intensity that sinks heavily into the air.
I glance over my shoulder, eyebrow raised. “I did no such thing.”
She lifts her chin defiantly. There’s a challenging look in her eyes. “Oh please, you had the face.”
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh, stirring the milk. “What face?”
“The scowl of doom. The one that screams, ‘you-better-do-as-I-say-or-the-ogre-will-come-out-to-make-you-do-it,’” she quips, as she pretends to brush something from the sleeve of her old sweatshirt. It surprises me that she still has the sweatshirt I gave her on her twentieth birthday. I always thought that we would go to Europe and replace it.
I had so many plans for us, so much love. This could be a great moment to try to dissect our relationship and see objectively where things went wrong. How the most promising love in the entire world crashed and burned.
Could we gather the pieces and put them back together?
The hate in her eyes tells me everything I want to know. There’s no fucking way we can get back to us.
