She met my eyes now, a dare. "You’re the one with the safety net. Family money, all those contingency plans. I lose this, I’m done."
"I know," I said, softer. "And I’m not here to pull your strings. I’m here to-" I stopped. I’d almost said help. The word made my tongue rebel. "-to make sure you get what you want."
Her eyes lingered a second longer than necessary. "You think you know what I want?"
"Only one way to find out."
The doors opened, and she stepped out. She didn’t look back, but I could hear the click of her heels echoing all the way down the marble corridor.
Calvin picked the kind of bar that had never once admitted it was a dive, but the tacky neon signs and bad music said otherwise. He was already at a high-top, twirling a coaster between restless fingers.
Eliza went in first, her chin up, her silhouette a dare in a world of half-broke tech bros and gig-economy strays. I followed, but kept a step behind. This was family turf, and I was, at best, an unwelcome witness.
"You made it," Calvin said, but the quip was forced.
Eliza slid onto a stool, leaning in. "You’re lucky I didn’t bring a murder weapon."
Calvin winced, running a hand through hair that had never met a comb. "Look, I fucked up. I didn’t know the man in my sister’s life was my best friend."
"You’d trust him with your life, but not your sister." Her words were sharp.
"I-" He glanced at me, searching for backup. I gave none.
Eliza shook her head, half exasperated, half fond. "You are a disaster."
Calvin’s grin reemerged, tired but real. "Family trait."
She studied him, then softened, just a bit. "Next time, I can handle myself."
He nodded. "Noted."
I caught Calvin’s eyes. We hadn’t spoken since the night he punched me. I offered a nod. Peace, at least for now.
He raised his pint. "To damage control."
Eliza surprised me by laughing, the sound bright, unrestrained. She clinked her glass against his, then mine.
She drank. Then she turned to me, her voice low but meant for both of us. "I’m going home. You’re coming with me."
It wasn’t a question.
Calvin snickered, then rolled his eyes. "Gross. But expected." He finished his beer and slid out. "See you, Liz. Try not to break him."
"Night, Cal," she said, but her eyes never left mine.
We left together, the night a wet blur of neon and rain. I kept pace with her, wanting to touch her but holding back. It wasn’t time yet.
Her apartment was a corner unit, high up, windows like an aquarium for city light. She dropped her bag, tossed her heels aside with a sigh, and kicked off her jacket.
"Make yourself useful," she said, pointing at the kitchen.
I found glasses, poured two whiskeys. When I returned, she was standing by the window, arms crossed, cityscape reflected in the black panes.
"I can’t sleep," she said, taking the glass. "Never could. Not before a big risk."
"What do you do?" I asked.
"Usually work. Or run." She glanced at her bare feet. "But right now, I just want to stop thinking for ten seconds."