Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
An opportunity?
“It wasn’t a shock,” I argued as my heart crumpled in on itself. “It was a plane crash. My plane crashed. I had to climb out the emergency exit onto the wing and then swim for shore while bleeding internally.” And still they weren’t coming home.
“And we’re so proud of you!” Mom sounded like I’d just earned a trophy. “Guess all those years on the swim team paid off.”
Not that they’d been at a single meet.
“We know you crashed, Isa,” Dad interjected. “Which is why you have full access to my credit card to book another flight back to Syracuse, of course. Don’t worry about a thing—we’ll cover it.”
Don’t worry about a thing except them being here. Got it.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t feel like you have to thank us. Of course we’d cover your travel expenses.” Dad chuckled. “And we can’t wait to see the dean’s list when we get back stateside.”
You have to be kidding me.
“Of course we’ll come home if you really, honestly need us to, Isabeau,” Mom said, her tone softening. “I’m sure we could get refunded for the rest of the trip, and of course there’s always next year if we want to finish it, right?”
“Don’t baby her, Rose. Serena already told us she’s being released, which means she’s fine. She’s an Astor. Aren’t you, Isa?” Dad questioned. “Astors do what needs to be done.”
They really expected me to come through this like everything else—with flying colors. What the hell was I supposed to do? Ask them to leave the only vacation Dad had taken in the last ten years where he hadn’t been in constant contact with his office?
I lifted my gaze to meet Serena’s and found her watching with compassion and a supportive smile.
“We’ll handle it together,” she whispered. “Just like we always do.”
I nodded and cleared my throat, banishing the knot that threatened to close it. “I’m fine. Serena will get me back to school.”
“Of course she will,” Dad said, pride filling his tone. “And we’ll see you at Christmas. And I know this has been horrible, but I’m glad we got to talk to you. We love you.”
“We love you!” Mom declared. “And we’ll get you something special at the next port.”
Tell me your love language is gifts without telling me . . .
“Sounds great. Love you guys too.”
Serena and I said our goodbyes, and she hung up the phone.
“I’m so sorry, Iz. I legitimately thought . . .” She sighed, plopping down in the armchair.
“No, you didn’t.” My voice softened. “Let’s not lie to each other.” The priorities in Mom and Dad’s life were Dad’s company, and themselves. Serena and I had always been hood ornaments, shined up and shown for status. But still, my lungs hurt when I drew my next breath.
“You have me.” She leaned in. “You always have me.”
“I know.” I clasped her hand for a moment and then took a shuddering breath. Crying about it wasn’t going to help, so I focused on the chart in my lap, flipping through the pages until I found the first documents. “There it is!”
Serena stood and leaned over the bed. “Are you sure that guy wasn’t a doctor? Because his handwriting is utter shit.”
“Nathaniel,” I whispered, my fingers skirting over the signature, but I couldn’t read the rest of it.
“How the hell did you get Nathaniel out of that chicken scratch?” She shook her head. “All I see is an N and . . . whatever that is.”
“Nate.” My lips curved into a wide grin, my first since waking up. “His friends call him Nate.” That was all I could remember, and probably all I’d ever know, but at least I had a name to put to the face of the man who’d saved my life.
Two months later, I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and stomped off the snow from my boots on the entry mat of my dorm. Colorado got snow, so it wasn’t like I was a stranger to the white stuff, but Syracuse got snow, especially in January.
It was up to my waist out there.
I walked to the mail room and spun the dial on my box as students chatted around me. My eyebrows rose at the telltale orange slip that meant I had a package to be picked up.
Mom and Dad weren’t exactly the care package type, and I’d seen them just last week before coming back to New York after break, so there was absolutely no chance it was from them. Serena, maybe?
I shut my mailbox, tossed one of the weekly credit card offers in the trash, and headed to the line at the window to pick up whatever had been sent to me. There were only two people ahead of me.
“Hey, Izzy!” Margo, my roommate, called out from the lobby with a thick southern accent, trudging toward me and leaving wet boot prints all over the muddy floor.