For me, graduation is an ending. The end of my freedom. The end of the solitude and safety I finally carved out for myself. It means packing my life into boxes and driving 1,300 miles back to a broken past. Back to a wasteland I barely survived the first time.
The worst part is not knowing what I’m going back to. What’s left of my father, of our home, if it can even be called that anymore, is a huge unknown. But it doesn’t matter what mess waits for me there. It’s my responsibility to clean it up before Parker comes home so he can have the fresh start he deserves. The one he so selflessly gave me.
I shuffle forward as the line moves ahead, then take my alphabetized assigned seat a few rows ahead of Lia.
My stomach quivers with nerves, and I try to convince myself it’s just anticipation.The spark of a positive eagerness, I tell myself. I wonder if consciously attempting to manipulate yourself is a sign of psychotic behavior. I should look that up.
My row is called by the attendant, and I stand along with the other graduates, continuing my shuffle forward in small steps so I don’t step on the person’s heels in front of me. We pause when we get to the short staircase leading to the stage.
I watch people fidget with their hands as they wait for their name to be announced. They’re probably worried they’ll trip and fall in front of thousands of people. Normal anxieties for a situation like this one. I, on the other hand, am full of fear over the stage itself and the life that comesafterI walk across it.
I move up a step as a student is called forward. Then another.
My stomach tightens fretfully, a wave of nausea beginning to rise with each new step.
The stage clears, and I wait for my name, my body a bundle of nerves. Part of me is worried I’ll miss being called at all.
A thundering voice says my name over the microphone. “Alana Sophia Dimerez.”
I inhale and hold my breath as I take steady strides forward.
I smile as much as I can manage and shake the hands of several staff members on my way to the podium.Don’t look up, I repeat in my head, but when I get to the gentleman who holds my degree in his hand, my eyes betray me. I peek up at the screen…and my entire body goes numb.
The room freezes over, and my heart stills with shock as I take in the man on the illuminated picture above.
Icy blue eyes stare straight through me with a smile so white it’s nearly blinding across the oversized screen. Waves of golden-brown hair frame his squared jaw, freshly cut and cleanshaven. It’s been years since I’ve seen his face, yet somehow, he hasn’t changed a bit. He still looks like an Armani model, his navy-blue suit and tie fitting him just right. It’s as if he’s stepped out of a dream. Only he’s real. And he’shere.
“Congratulations, Miss Dimerez. I know you will be overwhelmingly successful in your life after college. It’s been an honor to work with you,” the dean says, drawing my attention back to him. His words don’t register. I can barely hear them over the blood whooshing through my ears.
Hope dances within me, my body moving on autopilot as the shock of seeing my brother continues to radiate through me. I shake the dean’s hand, accept my degree with a smile that isn’t forced at all. Tears well in my eyes as they shoot back up to Parker’s face. A quivering hand comes over my mouth, holding in the sob that wants to break free.
I carefully walk down the few steps off the side of the stage, my vision blurred and my hands shaking…and then I run.
I break into a full-blown sprint down a side aisle and into crowds of people behind the steel doors. I run up two flights of stairs, frantically reading signs as I try to remember where my family box is supposed to be. I spin right and then left, taking a few steps in each direction, unsure which way will lead me to where I’m trying to go. When I realize I have no idea how to get there, panic pools in my gut.
Does Parker have a phone? Does he even know my number? How the hell am I supposed to find him?!
“Lana!”
I hear his deep voice over the murmur of the crowd. My eyes scan the wide space, searching for frosted blue eyes that will always be home to me.
When I find them, my face splits into an elated smile and my heart leaps in my chest, buzzing with warmth and love andhope. His smile is just as wide as he takes long strides toward me. I leap into his arms the second I reach him, holding him as tight as humanly possible as he spins me around.
It’s been almost six years since I’ve hugged my brother and almost three since I’ve heard his voice. He used to call me every few days, but the calls eventually stopped, and I never knew why. I haven’t heard from him other than receiving a letter here and there.
He places me on my feet, his arms wrapped around me as he kisses the top of my head. I squeeze him the same way I used to when I was a kid, only now it’s filled with so much more. He laughs a little and looks down.
“Still trying to break me?”
It takes everything in me not to cry uncontrollably. I squish my nose at him through my smile as I nod. “Did it work?”
“Never,” he chuckles. “You’ll never be powerful enough to defeat me,” he teases in his deepest voice.
My heart smiles as memories flood my mind—silly games and wholesome fun, all because of this man right here. He kisses the top of my head again, then lets me go.
“I can’t believe you’re a college graduate,” he says, taking me by my shoulders. “You did it, Lana. Wow, look at you.” His eyes shine with admiration, and I smile brighter, feeling the warmth touch my cheeks. “You’re a grown-up. Like, really! You’re, like, what, a full five feet now? You can probably swim in the deep end and everything.”
I gasp and watch the playfulness twinkle in his eyes. I missed it so much.
