He nudged his sister. “Remember when we tried racing Dad’s old ’73 Camaro?”
Elena didn’t look up. “I used to love revving that engine.”
Bryson managed a small smile. “That one time I let you drive, and you crashed us into a light post. I still have the scar on my forehead.”
She shrugged. “Worth it.”
Bryson took another turn, getting on the highway.
“Do you remember hiding me in the closet when you told him?” Elena said, suddenly looking at him.
Bryson gripped the steering wheel. “Yes.”
He had given her candy and a blanket to hide under. Hoping somehow the comforts would shield her from the sounds.
“Sota okay with all this?” he asked.
Her mouth formed a line. “He isn’t thrilled, but he doesn’t really have a say.”
“And you’re okay?” he asked.
Elena stared at him. “About all this, or in general?”
“Both,” he said, moving his eyes back to the road.
“I like running things. Sota needs me. But this,” she gestured to their space. “I am not okay with. I think that Adria royally fucked things up.”
“This isn’t on her,” he said.
“Really?” she said, eyebrows raising.
“Something is happening behind the scenes,” he said.
“I think it’s Dad,” Elena said.
Bryson froze. He had no doubts that his father wanted to hurt him. Maybe even kill him. But to orchestrate this…
“I don’t think Dad would take things this far.”
Elena stared at him for a long while before turning to look out her side window.
Bryson blinked rapidly. Remembering the time their father had locked them in the backyard shed in the middle of winter. Luca had been alive then, and the three of them had to huddle together for warmth as the temperatures dipped to well below freezing.
“El, I’m sorry,” Bryson said.
Elena said, “You don’t have to protect him.”
“That’s not— You wouldn’t understand,” Bryson finished, feeling miserable.
Elena was quick with her response. “Let me guess. You enjoy pretending deep down he’s some great person, so you don’t have to worry about becoming him.”
Bryson swallowed. “If you’re wrong…”
If they went after their father and he wasn’t behind this…there would be consequences.
Elena squared her shoulders, resting against the seat, staring out the windshield. “I’m not wrong.”
She turned to him. “He didn’t exactly try hard to keep you—us alive.”
