Once upon a time it had been my life. I thought I’d go to college with a scholarship. But things change and now I walk with a limp. I try not to let it bother me, after all I’m very lucky to be on my own two feet, but sometimes I feel like a bird with a broken wing, destined to never fly and it hurts all over again.
It takes the better part of an hour for Sage to locate every classroom and point out the quickest routes there.
Back at our starting area at the front of the school next to the administration section, Sage clears his throat. “Do you remember where everything is?”
I don’t. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
And I will be.
I always am.
Fine seems to be my permanent state of being anymore. I’m growing quite comfortable with its dullness.
Sage blows out a breath, rubbing his fingers over the golden stubble on his jaw. His brown locks have always had that caramel-golden tint and his facial hair matches. My brown hair on the other hand has always been lighter, a little duller compared to his.
“I want this to go well for you.” His voice lowers, shoulders drooping. “You … God, Dani … you’ve been through a lot.” His hazel eyes glisten with unshed tears. My big brother has had to keep his shit together, to be the rock to protect me against the storm, and the wear of it is beginning to show.
I take a step forward, wrapping my arms around his middle. “We both have.”
I might’ve had to heal physically, but we both had to deal with the grief of losing our mother in such a tragic way.
He hugs me back, his arms warm and strong. I don’t think he’ll ever know how grateful I am for him coming to my aid. He stayed with me in the hospital, able to work remotely in order to be there, before I healed enough to come to Salt Lake City.
“You could’ve died, Dani.” His gruff whisper tears at my heart, especially when my thoughts spear through me.
Sometimes I still wish I had.
Chapter Two
The four walls around me are bare white.
They’re not the sunshine yellow of my childhood bedroom. There are no photos of me and my friends taped to the walls, no posters, just nothingness. The sounds of the city can be heard through the window beside my bed. They say Manhattan is the city that never sleeps, but so is Salt Lake.
I sit up in bed, swinging my legs around. I pause before standing up, applying pressure slowly to my feet. Sometimes, when I’ve been lying down for a while I’ll have trouble standing, like my body has forgotten all over again how to stay upright. When I feel certain my feet and legs won’t give out on me I get up.
It’s a strange thing to be thankful for something as simple as standing or walking, but I know how lucky I am to have made this progress.
I take careful, slow steps out of the tiny bedroom and down the hall to the equally small kitchen.
My brother’s condo is a sleek modern masterpiece. It’s nothing like the chaotic, eclectic home we grew up in. He offered to sell the condo and buy a home in the suburbs but I refused. This was his home and while I might hate the blank white walls, I wasn’t going to have my brother uproot his whole life and move to another place because he got saddled with me.
Opening the refrigerator door, I pour a glass of milk and grab two chocolate chip cookies from the box he picked up at the grocery store.
Carrying them over to the living area I place everything on the coffee table so I can sit down. Grabbing the soft blue blanket from the back of the couch I wrap it around my shoulders before turning on the TV, careful to keep the volume low. I browse through the movies on Netflix, putting on Wedding Crashers. Picking up the glass of milk and cookies I settle in, letting my body sink into the comfy couch. Hopefully, I’ll drift off to sleep out here.
I don’t sleep a lot these days. I find it annoying lying in bed for hours on end staring up at a blank white ceiling. Back home, on the rare occasions I couldn’t sleep I’d go out and run—probably not the safest thing and my mom is probably rolling in her grave—until I was utterly exhausted.
I startle when I hear a noise and look up to find Sage in the doorway to the hall, stifling a massive yawn. His hair sticks up wildly in the back like he lost a fight with his pillow.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
I shake my head, taking a sip of milk and then a bite of cookie.
“Me either.” He lets out an exaggerated breath, padding into the kitchen.
I fight a smile as he pours a glass of milk and grabs two cookies.
He joins me on the couch, plopping down with a groan.