Vanessa turned toward the river.
Toward us.
There was no horror on her face.
She knew.
That hurt more than the water climbing toward my waist.
“Noah.”
“I see her.”
“I brought both of them into our lives.”
“We’ll discuss your terrible taste later.”
I turned on him.
“Later?”
“Yes.”
The water reached the bottom of his wheelchair.
Noah took a breath.
Then released a buckle across his chest.
“Elena, you are going to hate me for approximately the next decade.”
“What are you talking about?”
He put both hands on the armrests.
Then stood.
For several seconds, the river disappeared.
Adrian disappeared.
Vanessa disappeared.
My brother, who had spent fifteen years in a wheelchair, was standing behind me.
Not shaking.
Not struggling.
Standing.
“Noah.”
“Later.”
“You can walk?”
