Page 151 of How You See Me
Me:That’s not good.
Hayes:I know. Mom’s terrified, and she never gets scared.
Me:Maybe Ava just needsher big brother.
Hayes:I’m not sure I can.
Me:What do you mean?
Hayes:What if she’s holding on just long enough to see us all one last time?
My stomach twists, fingers going cold despite the warm glass on the phone.
Me:Hayes, you can’t think like that.
Hayes:I know, but everyone will be there. Even our father.
I’m not sure how to respond. Like most topics involving his world outside our bubble, his father has only come up once in conversation. The ghost we both silently agreed not to acknowledge.
Hayes:I wishyou were here.
My, that hurts my heart.
Me:Me too.
Hayes:What are you doing today?
Me:Grant made me go shopping, and now I’m sitting alone at a restaurant while he schmoozes the museum director on the dance floor.
Hayes:Would you mind finding a Vegas rock for Ava? I forgot.
Me:Of course. I’ll start the search in the morning.
Hayes:Thanks. I need to go. They’re lettingus off the plane.
Me:Darn. Please call me if you need to talk. No matter the time. And give Ava and your mom a hug for me.
Hayes:I will. Have fun.
Me:You have all my love. I hope you remember that and can feel it, even though we’re miles apart.
I stare at the screen a moment longer, feeling both healed and devastated at the same time. I can’t hold him tonight. Can’t lessen the burden of what he’s about to face. But I can love him. Fiercely. From wherever I am.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s something he can hold on to.
Chapter 32
Hayes
By the time the wheels hit the tarmac in Charlottesville, my spine feels jackhammered into the seat. I stretch my legs on the way out, dragging my backpack like it weighs a hundred pounds—though I’m pretty sure it’s my bones doing the heavy lifting.
The airport smells like dusty carpet and burnt coffee. It’s a small place, quiet, almost too calm for what I’m walking into. For a moment, I stand there blinking into the sunlight, unsure whether I want to move forward or disappear into the crowd. Until I spot her. Hoodie, ponytail, eyes already glistening.
It’s been only four months since I last saw my sister Raidyn, but I fold into her embrace the same way I did when I left for basic training and when we dropped her off at college. Not wanting to let her go, I hold her too tight. My muscles used to bracing, not releasing.
“I know,” she whispers and cries with me.
With how fast the tears come, I can’t help but wonder if this is the first time she’s set them loose. Always the calm one—the family champion, the solid ground, the toughest of us siblings. If she’s rattled, then I’m already halfway to sinking.
