Page 185 of Rush

The front door clicks shut behind me.

Cold air cuts straight through my sweater, as I yank my coat on. The street is too still for the city—but the silence is a comfort.

I inhale. In and out, the crisp air is a salve to my lungs. I want to scream. I want to punch a wall.

I take the steps down to the street.

“Elena!”

Philippa’s voice cuts through the stillness.

“Come back inside.”

“Elena!” she calls again.

I turn. Her coat is thrown over her shoulders haphazardly. Hair still perfect. Riley jogs behind her in socked feet, holding a half-eaten bread roll like it’s sacred.

“You cannot just leave it’s Thanksgiving,” Philippa snaps.

“Actually I can,” I say. “He brought up Alex andMom—what the fuck is that?”

“He’s worried about you?—”

“Hehumiliatedme.”

“Calm down,” she says. “He’s just concerned. About you, about your career.”

“Did you see Carole’s face?” I hiss. “He did it on purpose.”

“He doesn’t know how to talk to you anymore. You avoid his calls, you dodge his visits. And when he does try to talk to you make everything a fight.”

“And you always take his side.Daddy, please.What happened to standing up for me?”

My hand tightens around my phone.

Riley steps in between us, breath fogging. “Okay. I vote we all go inside and pretend this is just low blood sugar. You storm in, we eat turkey, drink something hard, and scream at the parade rerun. Yeah?”

“No,” I mutter. “I’m done.”

Philippa folds her arms. “I’m trying. But it’s hard when you blow up like this.”

I laugh. Bitter. “Right. I forgot—I’m the hot mess, and you’re the rational,perfectdaughter who always knows how to stay perfect under pressure.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is sitting there pretending he’s proud of me, then bringing up Alex in the same breath like it’s my fault—like maybe I’m encouraging him to post that garbage.

“And worse,” I add, voice cracking, “he did it in front ofeveryone.”

Philippa sighs. Her shoulders sag. “You’re right. He shouldn’t have done that. I’ll talk to him.”

Finally she sees some reason.

“Don’t bother.” My chest tightens. That’s not her job.

Riley raises the roll between us like it’s a truce flag. “I love you both. Deeply. But I am freezing my nips off. Can we maybe yell about this over mashed potatoes?”

I don’t answer. My hand’s already on the car door.