Page 125 of Enzo

Suddenly, I'm not sure we're talking about Jenga anymore.

Chapter 33

ENZO

Molly thinks that failure is acceptable. That it can be noisy and devastating and still survivable.

But in my family, failure isn't acceptable. It's frowned on. Even the failure that most of my siblings don't know about. The failure that Mama protects me from.

Molly pulls another block free and grins at me across the trembling tower.

Miraculously, it holds.

She's confident, even as she takes, in my opinion, wild and reckless moves. Bold moves. She's not afraid of making mistakes.

“Shall I paint my nails while you make your next move?” she teases.

In answer, I pull out a block too quickly, and the entire structure implodes, the pieces clattering across the table.

“You lost!” Molly claps her hands together, looking jubilant.

“You distracted me.”

“With what?”

With all of you.

With the way she is, and the way she looks at me.

“Excessive commentary,” is what I say.

“You're a sore loser.” She gets up and pulls out a carton of coconut water. “Want some?”

“No, thank you.”

“We've been playing for hours,” she exclaims.

“Best work day I ever had.”

She sighs contentedly. “It more fun playing with someone.”

I raise a brow. “So you agree?”

She shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“We played it the way it’s supposed to be played.”

“Another game?” she asks, just as I hear a weird gurgling sound.

“Was that your stomach?”

“It was. We missed lunch.”

“You lost track of time. Now do you appreciate the power of a good Jenga partner?”

“I do,” she replies. “I’d better make the most of it and play as much as I can while you’re here.”

Her words bring me back to reality. We can’t stay locked up in here forever. I don’t want to think about anything else—not the outside world, or Luca’s project, or Father.