Page 141 of The Oscar Escape
“The way your parents did,” he answered, joining her.
“Yeah, one day, you guys were three kids messing around making music in a garage. The next, you’ve skyrocketed to fame. You’ve sold out tour stops years in advance. People screamed your names and cried when they saw you. You were at the top, and you came from nothing.”
He bumped her shoulder. “Do you know how much luck was involved in our success?”
She huffed an exasperated breath. “Still, that’s your Cinderella story. Aunt Harper became a sensation after her first concert appearance at Red Rocks. That’s our family’s legacy, and I’m not living up to it.”
He shook his head. “Aria, I want you to listen to me. Those accomplishments are a part of our lives, but our passions led us to our true purpose. Your parents wanted to help kids—kids like you and me. Neurodivergent learners. They understood they had a real opportunity to do good in this world. To help people. To change lives through the arts. Look at what you can do. Look at what you did for Havenmatch Island with your gifts. Look at what happens when you follow your heart and choose love. I’ve never seen you as happy as when you and Oscar told us you got married. You were at ease. You were in sync. You thrive by helping others. What better legacy is there than one rooted in lifting people up? Your aunt and I had our music careers, but our greatest joy and the memories that sustain us aren’t the ones where we’re taking the stage. Our thoughts aren’t littered with roaring crowds and signing autographs. The memories that matter most have nothing to do with fame or sales numbers. Our greatest legacy is that we got to raise you and watch as you make your mark on the world. It’s the legacy of love.”
She twisted the hem of her shirt. “How do I trust myself to make the right decision?”
“Close your eyes,” her uncle instructed.
She wasn’t expecting that.
“Why, Uncle Landy?”
“I double-dog dare you to close your eyes,” the man said with a sly bend to the words.
A double-dog dare was how he and her aunt ended up married.
Those words mattered to them.
Words mattered.
She thought of Oscar and the vows they’d made to each other.
“Fine,” she agreed, playing along—for the moment.
“Time is precious,” Landon began. “You and I understand that. I know you’d give anything for more time with your mom and dad. I would, too.”
She brushed a tear from her cheek.
“Understanding the importance and precious fragility of time,” he continued, “imagine the world will end in ten minutes. Where do you want to be? And who do you want to be with?”
Another salty tear trailed down her cheek and grazed her lip. She heard the call of seagulls. She smelled fall foliage mingled with the scent of sea and sand and driftwood. She heard the mechanical hum of an old Polaroid camera. She saw blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and a gray hoodie.
If the world was on fire, she’d want to take her last breath in Oscar’s arms.
Yes, the man had lied.
But so had she.
She’d pushed herself too hard. She’d brushed off her friends and family when they’d expressed concern for her welfare. In her heart of hearts, she’d known only Oscar could have seen what she was hiding beneath a shellacking of makeup and a plastic smile.
Of course, he’d come for her.
Of course, he’d do whatever he had to do to save her from herself.
He was her second-grade switcheroo.
She’d worn exhaustion and fatigue like badges of honor. But disregarding her physical and mental health wasn’t something to celebrate. Pushing herself past her limits, again and again, didn’t make her strong. It hurt people. Her reckless behavior worried the ones she loved the most. Not only was it cruel, but it was also counterproductive.
Who can be at their best when they’re performing at their worst?
That bullshit martyr business was over.
She understood her true calling. She knew how to show Oscar—and her friends and family—she understood they wanted her to be safe, healthy, and happy.
