“You know, your car comes with a self-driving mode.You should use it.You hate Manhattan traffic,” Leah said as she buckled up.
Jamie pressed his finger to the small screen on the dash, letting the biolock read his print.“I’d honestly rather do a twenty-five-klick hump before dawn than let a computer take the wheel.”
“Neanderthal,” she teased.
Jamie rolled his eyes and backed out of the spot.“Tell me again why I’ve missed you?”
“You don’t have the time available for me to list all the many reasons why.”
He drove to the pay gate with the shortest line before pulling out into evening traffic.Jamie reoriented them quickly once on the street and drove uptown on Madison Avenue.It didn’t take much effort to cajole a less fraught conversation out of his sister about what she’d been up to lately, purposefully steering clear of politics.It was nice to visit with her one-on-one, even if the mess of dinner still hung over them both.
It didn’t take very long to traverse the streets.The Upper East Side home they’d both grown up in towered over the biodome that sheltered Central Park.The two-hundred-level megatall skyscraper was part of a cluster the ultra-wealthy called home.Most families owned multiple levels to add space for comfort.The Callahans owned the top five levels with a panoramic view of New York City, along with the rooftop garden and an entire sublevel in the garage for the family’s fleet of expensive cars.Jamie parked his Bentley in its designated spot before they got out and made their way to the private elevator that would take them to their restricted penthouse residence levels.
Leah placed her palm against the control panel and leaned down a little to complete the retina scan.Jamie watched the numbers flash across the screen as they rapidly ascended.When they slowed to a smooth stop 195 levels above the ground, the elevator doors opened up into a grand reception foyer dominated by an antique chandelier.
The interior design of their family’s home, inherited from his mother’s parents, fell rigidly along his mother’s personal tastes save for several rooms his father had claimed as his own on an upper level.Charlotte was a woman of defining, classical style that permeated every level of her life.Her home was no different.
Marble floors matched the different coloring of each level, leather chairs and couches paired with exquisitely carved rosewood furniture throughout the residence, while the family’s fine art collection hung on the walls inside slim, environmentally stabilizing glass frames.The open floor plan was linked on all levels by a multitude of curved marble staircases lit by crystal chandeliers.Charlotte despised the gaudy opulence of gold leaf, preferring clean lines and warm tones over the gauche trappings preferred by thenouveau riche.
This was home, except for how it wasn’t.Jamie had grown up here—half of one level still technically belonged to him—but the Washington, DC, megacity was his domicile now.It’s where his work resided, where his team lived, and where his heart lay.He wasn’t keen on giving any of that up for the splendor of his youth.
Leah followed him through the hallways and up the marble stairs in silence, the two of them traversing three floors for the one that had been his growing up.Larger than his condo in DC, it had been partially converted into separate guest suites after his departure.The master bedroom suite had been left alone, his mother still refusing to replace the child he’d been with the man he’d become.
Jamie had unpacked earlier, thinking for once that he would manage to stay the entire three days of liberty he’d been granted.Maybe next time, he wouldn’t even bother.He grabbed his empty Goyard suitcase from the walk-in closet and dumped it on the bed.Leah stayed in the doorway, watching as he dug up his meager amount of clothes and returned them to the suitcase.
“Do you need a ride to the airport, or did you take the train in?”she asked.
“I flew, but don’t worry about driving me.I’ll catch a cab.”
“It wouldn’t be out of my way.”
Jamie shook his head.“It’s thoughtful of you to offer, but I’d rather one of us enjoy the rest of the night.Since it won’t be me, I leave that job to you.”
“As if I need your permission to have a good time.I had plans later to meet with some friends to go clubbing.I’ll see if they’re up for starting our night out early.”
“Take a security detail with you.”
Leah rolled her eyes.“I know.”
Jamie closed his suitcase and set the biolock before looking over at her.“Time was you’d fight me on that.”
“Yes, well, maybe I’ve grown up.You just haven’t been around to see.”
Jamie rubbed a hand over his face before picking up the suitcase and setting it on the floor.All he could think to say to that accusation was, “I’m sorry.”
Leah bit her lip, her glossy lipstick staying put.“You’ve changed, you know that?I’m not talking about the obvious but with how you treat us.How you treat me.You never used to be this angry.”
“It’s not you I’m angry with, Leah.It’s the situation.It’s what Father wants from me, and that’s something I can’t give him.”
“The impossible?You’ve always been good at delivering that.”
Jamie approached her and settled his hands on Leah’s shoulders, pulling her into a careful, tight hug.“We both know that’s not true.”
Leah wrapped her arms around his ribs and squeezed as hard as she could.“You’re alive.You came home.”
The hitch in her voice came from four years ago when he’d survived a Splice chemical bomb in Tripoli, Libya, during a failed rescue mission.His family had been present for the aftermath, when he grappled with becoming a metahuman and having lost nearly his entire platoon of Recon Marines.In the years since, there were days Jamie didn’t think he was alive, but that was a truth he’d never tell his little sister.The ugliness of war wasn’t something she would understand because she had never lived through it, and the only person he was obligated to talk to about it was his therapist.
Jamie kissed the side of Leah’s head before stepping back, giving her a fleeting smile.“Have fun tonight.If any boys want to dance, remember what I taught you.”
