Chapter 17 #2
He can’t be serious. “No. This is your day, I will carry the backpack. Don’t worry about me.”
A wicked smile makes its way across his face.
Why do I find it charming?
Ugh. How is it that everything this man does seems so charming?
You’re not in trouble. Zero. Perfectly fine.
“Well, if it is my day, then I should get to decide who carries the backpack, shouldn’t I?”
I’m not fine .
This man somehow manages to make him doing me a favor look like I’d break his heart if I denied him.
“You’re really going to use Isabella’s tactics on me?” I sigh with a smile.
He grins. “If it makes you let me carry the backpack, absolutely.”
“Family of emotional manipulators,” I mutter with a laugh as I drop the bag.
He chuckles as he swings it over his shoulder.
We hike the trail peacefully for the rest of the afternoon.
And the more time goes on, the more I understand why Adrian loves hiking. It brings a sense of peace and purpose, a sense of grounding and wilderness. You feel on top of the world, like you can achieve anything. Especially when you look down and see how far you’ve walked.
I halt to a stop at the sight of the sun setting from here.
The sky is turning a magnificent shade of purple, with light blue fading away with the sun.
Seeing the sunsets in Westwood Spring is a magic of its own.
It feels like the world fades away, like time slows down.
Like the weight and pressure of expectations is lifted off my shoulder, even if only for a few minutes.
“The view here has always been my favorite part,” Adrian admits, his tone as dazed as I feel.
“Yeah, it’s my favorite part too,” I reply as I sit down, my focus fully on the sunset, on everything inside me quieting down.
Adrian sits next to me, and we stay silent, both in a daze at the sight before us.
“I never thought something as simple as a sunset could be so beautiful.”
“Yeah.” Adrian sighs heavily. “I just wish that this burst of color didn’t mean the end of a day.”
I look at him, the sunlight making his green eyes sparkle like emeralds.
His beautiful eyes come back to meet mine, and having them on me reminds me that I need to be here. That the slow tingling back to life sensation I’ve been starting to feel is essential.
“Well, it shows that an ending doesn’t have to be tragic,” I start softly, shivering when the wind starts rising. “The sky explodes with colors as the sun goes away for a little while. It’s better than a gray sky.”
Adrian smiles at me. “Yeah. I . . . never thought of it like that.”
I laugh. “Me neither. Just thought of it.”
“Is that how you play music? Does the melody just come to you out of thin air?”
“I like to think that I didn’t find music, rather that it found me .
” I clear my throat. “I was struggling to handle the . . . pressure that came with having powers. The weight of expectations from the city, the pressure and my success became a necessity. I was still a child, and I had nothing figured out. So, I often escaped in the middle of the night, desperate for a space where I could breathe. I found a forest close to home, and the piano appeared without me thinking about it. I’ve always been curious about everything, so I started playing.
My fingers hitting the notes became a source of peace and control I didn’t have in my teenage years.
And, alone in the forest, I could sing my lungs out and say everything I wanted to because no one would hear or see me. ”
Adrian stays quiet besides me.
“What about you?” I ask. “Did you have an escape when you started taking care of your sisters? A hobby? Something to have a little fun with for a while?”
His brows furrow in confusion. “Why would I have needed an escape?”
“From the pressure? Expectations? Way too much responsibility for a teenager to handle?”
“I didn’t.”
My heart aches for this man. I can’t imagine having the responsibility of three younger siblings fall on your shoulders and not have any kind of distraction.
“Which is why Jay and I got so close as children,” Adrian continues. “We lived close to each other and we both needed an escape from our struggles. He used laughter to help me escape from the weight of my responsibility, and I made sure he felt important.”
I sigh heavily, heartbroken by the weight he had to carry on his shoulders for so long. “You shouldn’t have had to take care of everyone around you like that.”
“Maybe. But someone had to step up. And I was our best choice.”
“How did . . . How did your sisters handle it?”
“Isabella stepped up pretty quickly. I took care of most of our responsibilities, but she saw our sisters. She saw how much they needed support and rushed in to help. She soothed all of us and, now, I think that she was the one most in need of soothing. Layla was just . . . in another world. She escaped reality and hid away in her head. She was always quiet and always daydreaming, but Hazel was the hardest to read. She was only a baby when we lost our parents.” Adrian’s voice cracks, and my heart cracks along with it.
“Layla stepped up to take care of Hazel, but . . . she’s never been as close to us as I wish.
Hazel is very . . . distant. I noticed it even more recently, but I don’t know how to fix it.
I think I’m too late for her.” A tear slips through his eyes, and I’m absolutely shattered as I watch pure regret wash over his features.
Adrian does—and always has done—so much for his sisters, and it breaks me to see him regret things that are out of his control.
“Adrian, you’re not too late for her. It’s never too late to reconnect with the people we care about. You lost your parents as children; you had to handle your grief in the only ways you were able to. And for Hazel, it was probably by being distant.”
“I know, but she never had to be distant from me. I would have done, and still would do, anything she asked.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know what she needs,” I say softly.
Adrian’s eyes snap to mine, and understanding shines in them.
“Maybe,” he finally replies quietly.
The last bit of sunlight fades away, leaving us in darkness as we sit on the ground, next to each other. Silence reigns in the air and with it, I feel calm again. The emotions from earlier fade away, only for tranquility to take their place.
We return to the town soon after that, and when I look in my room’s bathroom mirror, I find a giddy smile still etched on my face.
It’s so unfamiliar that, for a moment, it feels like I’m staring at a stranger, but then I remember the photos of myself that I had as a teenager that I found with my notebook.
This is my real smile. I just haven’t shown it to the world, or myself, for way too long.
I won’t make that mistake ever again.