Chapter 2

It's aroundeight when I'm finally heading to my place. Lyric's plane won't land until two in the morning.I'm actually relieved Mom asked me to pick her up. Leaving Lyr alone at that time of night is dangerous. Also, I wouldn't want Mom, or anyone for that matter, driving this late, especially with the rain pouring down like it's trying to cleanse the city.

As I drive, I decide to call my twin. The phone rings a couple of times before he picks up.

"You've tuned into the one and only Jude station," he announces, his voice bursting through the line with that familiar, playful arrogance. "How can I rock your world today?"

I roll my eyes but can't help grinning. It's been months since I saw him last. We used to try to get together more often, but since Seth and Piper married their respective spouses, things have changed a lot. We feel like third wheels.

"Ever thought of answering your phone with a simple ‘hello'?" I chuckle.

He barks out a laugh. "That'd be too fucking boring—and we know you're the boring one of us. What's up, Gabe?"

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. "Mom's sending me to collect Lyric from the airport. Happen to know why she's back early from Paris?"

Jude sighs heavily into the phone. When he doesn't immediately respond, worry spikes through me. "Is she okay? Would you like to share what you know with the class?" I push.

"My theory is that our sisters are trying to set up an intervention—for us," he finally says, half-joking, half-serious, as if he's not sure how to feel about it. "Indie asked me to be there this weekend. She mentioned it's important and that everyone would be there—even you."

I groan, irritation simmering. As if I don't have enough with my own self-doubts. I fucking hate the added pressure from our family.

"Why?" I ask, hoping Jude knows anything and this isn't just some weird theory. Our sisters tend to open up to him more.

"Not sure," he responds casually and somehow I don't believe him.

"What else do you know, Jude?" I insist.

"Indie might've mentioned something about us being the oldest and not having our shit together. Look at Seth and Piper. They have a family—spouses, and even children. You and me . . . Well, we don't have shit. Dad's pretty disappointed that he doesn't have grandchildren already, unlike his brother and sister."

Seems like Indie has a lot to say about us. I should call her and see if she'll tell me more about Dad's new complaints. "Mom's just concerned since I told her I might want to start a band," Jude adds.

"You do?" I ask incredulously.

"Nah, I was just messing with Finnegan," he laughs. "You know how I like to rile him up about the past—no one believes it, but it helps jog his memory. It seemed hilarious to say, ‘Remember that time when we were going to start a band? We should do it now that you're back.' No one liked my joke, and apparently, Mom's at her wit's end with both of us."

It'd be a good time to tell him that fucking with Finnegan's amnesia is getting old, and he has to stop. Archer, our best friend, was MIA for years, and when he came back to us, he had a new identity—Finnegan Gil—and barely remembered anything about us.

I miss my best friend, but I don't try to push Finn to remember the past or be like his old self. I'm not the Gabe from back then either, and no one is trying to make me be that person anymore. Why should we do the same to him?

But that's a story for another day. I need to focus on the now and my parents. "So, is it just the lack of grandchildren, or is there more?" I ask, trying not to sound defensive but failing.

If the issue is the grandchildren, I could just hire a surrogate and get a couple of the frozen embryos at the fertility clinic implanted to make my parents happy. Well, I would have to do a lot more than that, though the withdrawal isn't that easy. Also, why would I do such a thing? I wouldn't want to have any children without . . . I grab onto the wheel tightly while I try to calm the fuck down.

Today isn't a good day to bring back the memories or even think about Ame. Remembering the past is just a waste of time and energy.

"Want me to list them all or just the main highlight: your career is sucking out your soul?" he jokes grimly.

"So, Indie said that to you directly?" I press on. Knowing that even my little sister is concerned and thinks poorly of me stings. A knot forms in my stomach as I wonder what my family will say when I tell them my plans. I'm leaving the state and my practice. I might only be gone for seven years or just never come back.

Jude scoffs. "If you can't even understand why the family—especially our parents—aren't on board with your current life choices, I can't help you, my dude."

"What do you mean?" I ask, a crease forming on my forehead.

A sudden clatter comes through the phone. "Hey, I got to run, but we'll catch up soon. I'm heading home tomorrow," Jude rushes out before ending the call.

I let out a groan after he hangs up, scrubbing a hand over my face in exasperation. This conversation only confirms that I can run but can't hide from my family. They're like bloodhounds tracking down their emotionally obtuse son and brother, pushing me to engage, to be more human. Not just drifting through life on autopilot, numb to everything around me. The thought is exhausting, and an unfamiliar anger begins to simmer in my gut. Can't I just be left alone?

* * *

When I arriveat my house, the phone rings. I groan when I see Piper's name flash across the screen, a wave of weariness washing over me.

"Is everyone okay?" I ask hoping this isn't part of the family intervention. Maybe Lyric already rallied everyone to nag me, even our cousins.

"Yep. You make it sound like I call you just to get medical advice. Just so you know Rhea and Orrick are healthy," she says, mentioning her little girl and newborn boy. "Why are you so edgy?"

I rub the back of my neck, feeling a knot of tension there. "Not sure what you're talking about. I'm perfectly fine," I answer, clearing my throat.

"Uh-huh, tell me more about how perfectly fine you are, broody Gabe." The condescending tone doesn't sit well on my chest. "Sounds like someone either annoyed you or work sucked today. Have you thought about going into pediatrics? You're really good with kids."

Yeah? Nope? Both? My call with Jude angered me. But I also just gave the news to a family that their father isn't responding to treatment. He doesn't have much time left. Every time I have to do that, I feel like I failed my patients and their families. And though I'd love to discuss it with someone, I don't.

"I have to pick up Lyr at the airport in about five hours or so," I say, steering the conversation to a different subject, but obviously fail when I add, "According to Jude, she might be here for an intervention. It seems like once again, my life choices are a problem to everyone in the Walker-Decker family."

Piper scoffs over the phone. "You've got that wrong."

"She's not coming for an intervention?" I can't help but sound a bit too hopeful.

"No clue about that," Piper says, a bit too casually. "I mean, it's not just the Walker-Decker side. The entire family tree, grandparents, cousins, you name it, they're all in on this ‘worry about you' thing."

I let out a sigh, half-exasperated, half-resigned. "Great, just what I need. Could you, maybe, help convince them I'm doing just fine? The last thing I need is more family meddling."

"You're ‘doing fine,' huh?" There's a playful skepticism in her voice. "That's exactly why I called. To help you with being fine. Rhea's teacher is single, and I was thinking?—"

"No," I cut her off, my frustration boiling over. "If this is more meddling, then the answer is simple. I love you, Piper, but, seriously, back off."

She exhales, a mix of concern and frustration in her breath. "I'm doing this because I care, you know? Like you were there for me when Archer was MIA. It's my turn to help. Leslie's been gone for twenty years?—"

"It's been eighteen years," I interject, not out of sentimentality, but a reflex of my knack for precision. "And it's not about Leslie. You wouldn't understand."

If it were all about losing Leslie, I would be . . . Well, who the fuck knows? Piper doesn't know why I avoid relationships. She never learned about Ameline since all that happened around the same time Archer disappeared.

Only the Walker-Decker clan met Ame and just two people know how deep my relationship was with her. Jude and Archer. The latter obviously forgot after his accident just like he forgot almost everything—except his love for Piper.

Do I regret how things played out with Ame? Every single day. I should've told my parents who she was. My wife, the love of my life, and . . . it's too late now, isn't it?

But I can't turn back time. Dwelling on what could've been won't change anything. And letting my family in on the whole Ame saga? That's a can of worms I'm not ready to open. It's just easier to let them believe I'm still hung up on Leslie. The truth about Ame, with all its lies, mess, and a heartbreaking ending, is on a need-to-know basis and no one has to know it.

So I always allow them to assume that I'm not over Leslie. I understand it's not fair to her memory, but it's easier than telling them about Ame. The lies, complications, and the bitter end.

Forever, it turns out, was nothing but a cruel illusion.

"Listen, I know how much it hurts to lose the love of your life, but you can't just keep going through the motions," she says. "It's like you're living in limbo. Let us help you."

It was brutal and heartbreaking. I lost her twice. The second was out of stupidity, and I have to live with the consequences. And no one can help me.

No one.

Maybe they can by leaving me the fuck alone.

"I have a life. You people just don't acknowledge it," I protest.

"It's not healthy. Wouldn't you want to fall in love again?"

Fuck, no.

If only she knew. Piper would have a field day if she learned about Ameline. Leslie was my first love, sure, but Ame . . .

I tap on my chest, feeling its hollowness. Why bother with these thoughts when, deep down, I feel like I'm already dead inside?

I shake my head, trying to dispel these morbid thoughts. "You guys just don't get it," I finally say.

"We would if you were more open. However, I'll let this go," Piper says. "But, when's the last time you took a break? A real one, for fun, not just because you were forced?"

"Christmas week?" I offer, but even to my own ears, it sounds like a big fucking lie.

"Without being forced? Like, actually going on a trip or just to chill out?" she presses.

"My patients need me, Piper. It's not like I can just up and leave," I counter, feeling defensive.

"Your colleagues could cover for you, just like you do for them when they plan trips to a tropical destination with their families," she argues.

She's so fucking infuriating and I can't handle any more of this. "Why did you call, Piper? Just get to the point."

"As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me earlier, I was setting you up on a blind date with Rhea's teacher," Piper blurts, her words rushing out before I can stop her.

I almost let out a laugh, the idea's so absurd to me."Pass," I snap back, more sharply than intended.

"You really should give it a try," she insists.

Why is she so fucking stubborn?

"Try what? Pretending I can just fall for someone again? I think I'm past that stage in life, Piper," I say, a mix of bitterness and resignation in my voice.

"You could fall in love again, you know?" she retorts.

"Doubtful." My reply comes out more curtly than I intended. I can feel the frustration boiling up inside, a mix of irritation at her insistence and my own unresolved feelings.

She wants to set me up with someone, fix my love life. Try setting me up with my wife. Let's see how that goes. But there are things that Piper will never know.

"You have to at least try to live for yourself," she pushes even harder.

"Piper, I love you, and I appreciate what you do for me, but you really need to let this go," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. It's a thin line between showing my frustration and not hurting her feelings.

"I just wish . . ." Her voice trails off heavily.

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" I cut in, needing to escape this conversation before my frustration spills over completely.