Mechanical records said otherwise.
The aviation accident investigators said otherwise.
And the fact that I crawled into bed alone every night said otherwise too.
But, as much as I was going to hate being present at the hearing, Cassidy was right. With only twenty-seven survivors, something had to be done. A multimillion-dollar class action lawsuit wasn’t exactly what I would call justice. The alternative was allowing a billion-dollar company to walk away from the death of one hundred and fifty-two souls with little more than a six-figure fine from the Federal Aviation Administration.
The majority of the victims’ families settled out of court, but the survivors had banded together in multi-district litigation that was ultimately consolidated into one court. Short of signing my name on the paperwork, I’d avoided everything to do with the damn lawsuit. But today, Sky High had rushed a settlement to finally get their name out of the press, and for the first time since this nightmare had started, we were all asked to be in attendance.
I’d spent every day of the last week dreading it, talking myself out of it, and ultimately resigning myself to a world of pain.
I didn’t need reminders of that day. I’d never forget it.
Not rousing to consciousness, confused and panic-stricken in the middle of fiery wreckage.
Not the ear-piercing screams of people begging for help or the heart-stopping silence of the bodies strewn across the runway.
Not finding her lifeless and covered in so much blood that she was barely recognizable.
Not the way her ribs crunched as I endlessly performed CPR with a broken arm and punctured lung.
Not when they dragged me off her.
Not when I screamed her name until I began to choke on the smoke.
Not even the hell-spun reality of when I found out Sally had never truly left the carnage on that runway, which all but guaranteed I’d be stuck in that purgatory for the rest of my life too.
No. I didn’t need reminders at all.
But as I stared at my sister while holding a phone with my meddling mother on the other end of the line, I was more pissed that I actually needed her and less so about how they’d sprung it on me at the last minute.
I was sick and fucking tired of my family feeling like they had to check in on me at every turn to make sure I wasn’t on the verge of self-destruction. And worse, I was sick of them being right.
But today was the end.
In a few hours, everything would be over. The fight. The lawsuit. The never-ending roar of what-ifs playing in the back of my mind.
Surrendering, I seethed, “Fine. But you’re sitting in the car and paying for lunch.”
Cassidy’s face split with a wicked grin. “I accept those terms.”
My mom blew out a relieved breath over the phone. “Oh, thank God.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes and rumbled at my mother, “I’m not speaking to you for a week.”
“That’ll make it awkward when I bring you dinner tonight, but okay, sure.”
“Mom, I don’t need dinner. What part of Jack, Clyde, Sugar, and throwing a ball until my arm falls off did you misunderstand?”
“Clearly the part where you take a break from destroying the perfectly good liver I provided you with in the womb and playing fetch with my granddogs to have dinner with your parents. See you at six. Kisses.” She hung up.
Out-fucking-standing.
In what could only be described as the devil playing his ace in the hole, my office door once again swung open and Tyson came rushing inside. “Sorry I’m late.” His chest heaved as he planted his hands on his hips. “Well, not really true. I planned to be late because I figured Cass would be late too.” He narrowed his eyes on my sister. “Thanks for making me look like the ass.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are the ass. Always and forever. This isn’t new information.”
They started to bicker as only the Michaels siblings could in the face of grief.
But then again, the world owed me nothing.
Not even peace and quiet as I waited for the universe to swallow me whole.
Remi
My bare feet padded against the hardwood as I rounded the corner into the kitchen.
I blinked. Once. Twice. I threw in a third for good measure when he didn’t disappear or burst into flames. “You can’t be serious right now?”
He froze, a spoon halfway to his mouth. “What?”
Growling, I stomped over and snatched the box of Frosted Flakes off the table. “Dammit, Mark, stop eating my cereal. We literally just had this conversation last night.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “No. We discussed you not running ten humidifiers for your four million plants to the point I wake up confused if I’m in bed or lost in the Amazon. Then…you got mad, pouted, and ordered moo shu chicken just so you could put it in the refrigerator and tell me not to eat it. You never said anything about cereal.”
The majority of it was true, though I didn’t have four million plants. I wasn’t even to triple digits yet. And I only turned on nine humidifiers, so really, his argument had holes.
He shoved the spoon into his mouth, smiling as he chewed. “Relax. I’ll buy you more.”
“No, you won’t.” I gave the box a shake, hearing nothing but the dusty remnants of my favorite breakfast. “Besides, what the hell good does it do me now? I have to leave in ten minutes.”
He raked his gaze over the towel pulled tight around my middle all the way up to the smaller one tied around my hair. “Then I think you have bigger problems than cereal.”
In theory, living with my two best friends sounded like a dream when we’d moved in together four years earlier. We had all been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed twenty-five-year-olds with the world at our fingertips. Mark had been saving up to open his own bar while Aaron had been climbing the corporate ladder. I, on the other hand, had still been contemplating world domination. (Read: unemployed.) So, honestly, sharing a house with my two best friends and splitting the bills three ways had been a godsend for me.
Though living with two men who were allergic to grocery shopping, unloading the dishwasher, and putting the toilet seat down left a lot to be desired.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved my guys. Living together was just a lot sometimes.
The three of us were different in virtually every way, but when we’d met in high school, those differences were exactly what we’d needed at the time.
Freshman year had started out fantastic for all of us. I was one of the popular girls. Co-captain of the cheerleading squad, known for my kindness and generosity without ever having done anything that wasn’t purely self-serving. My father owned a restaurant, The Wave, which had the most incredible loaded cheese fries. And if you were with me, those cheese fries were free.
My perfect little life came crumbling down when news broke of my mom’s affair with our married Spanish teacher. I didn’t think anyone actually cared that my mom was sleeping with Mr. Ruiz, but nothing set a high school on fire like a scandal. For reasons I would never understand, I found myself burning at the stake over other people’s choices that had absolutely nothing to do with me. My friends stopped talking to me, my parents got a divorce, and my mom and Mr. Ruiz moved to Texas. Being that I was fifteen with my world falling apart, I chose to stay in the only place I felt at home: with my dad and his free cheese fries.