And tomorrow, when Tara Greene finally drives off this mountain, I'll figure out how to put the pieces back together.
All of them.
Including the ones Sierra and I have been too scared to pick up.
“Fine,” I grind out. “One ride. Eight seconds. And then we figure out how to bury Tara Greene's career.”
“That's the spirit.” Caleb claps me on the shoulder. “Now let's go make some content that doesn't make your ancestors want to disown you.”
“Too late for that.”
Sierra falls into step beside me as we head toward the staging area.
“For what it's worth,” she says quietly, “those comments are wrong. All of them.”
“I know.”
“Your dad was wrong too. What he said?—”
“Sierra.” I stop walking. Turn to face her. “Don't.”
She blinks. “Don't what?”
“Don't defend me to me.” I keep my voice low, aware of her brothers just ahead of us. “I know what's true. I know what I did and why I did it. What I need is?—”
I stop myself.
What I need is for you to defend us to them. To everyone. To stop hiding and finally choose us.
But I can't say that. Not here. Not now.
“What do you need?” she whispers.
You. Just you. The way it should have been eleven years ago.
“Get through today,” I say instead. “That's what I need.”
She nods slowly. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
Her jaw works for a second. “And for the record? If anyone's polishing anything—” She cuts herself off, cheeks flushing. “Never mind.”
Finish that sentence. I dare you.
But she's already walking.
And I pretend I don't feel her hand brush against mine.
Pretend I don't notice the way she angles her body toward me, like she's trying to shield me from cameras she can't even see.
Pretend I don't know that she's fightingthe same war I am—love versus fear, truth versus safety, us versus everyone else.
Tomorrow, Tara leaves.
Tomorrow, we figure out what comes next.
But today?
