The Bucket List

13.1 The Beach

"Where have you been?"

I pause at the threshold of my apartment, disoriented by the sight of the twins on my couch, three boxes of pizza piled high on the cushion between them.

TJ stares pointedly at a slice of pepperoni while Gabby glares daggers at me.

I drop my heels and dress at the door, too exhausted to give a damn about wrinkles and rainwater. "With Nicholai," I answer, ambling into the kitchen. After the grandeur of Nicholai's penthouse, my apartment feels...shabby.

But I know that's just the bad mood talking. I love this place. I love this place and I love my life and I love my friends. Even if one of them is pissed off at me for no good reason.

"Again?" Gabby asks, discarding a paper plate on the coffee table. She folds her arms, jaw set.

"Gabs," TJ warns. And then he shoves half a slice of pizza into his mouth. Probably so he won't have to involve himself further.

I grab a plate from the sink and scrub at it furiously. "Do you have a problem with that?"

I ask. I could try to diffuse the situation; I know enough about Gabby and her moods to know that I'm about to be up to my eyeballs in shit. But I'm tired. Physically and emotionally.

I'll have to try the be the bigger person thing tomorrow. Or maybe after a good, long nap.

Gabby scoffs. "That depends. Are you wearing his clothes?"

"Gabby," TJ says, exasperated. "Wait. Are you wearing his clothes?"

"My dress was soaked." I throw the plate, half-washed, back into the sink and grip the counter's edge. "So he let me borrow his shit. Satisfied?"

I glance over my shoulder in time to catch TJ shrugging, as if the logic tracks. Good-natured, as always. But Gabby's frown darkens. "Look," she starts. "I'm sorry, but you haven't been around all that much—"

"I'm trying to get my life together."

"I know that," she says, taking a deep breath. TJ sinks further into the couch. "But getting your life together shouldn't include some sketchy-ass—"

"I don't have many choices here." My temper spikes, threatening to burst free.

Gabby stands, throwing up her hands. "Yes, you do. God, Amara. You always do this. You always take these unnecessary risks, and it blows up in your face. Every. Time. And then what? TJ and I have to bail you out—"

"Don't drag me into this," TJ protests, glaring up at his twin.

"—and you do it all over again," Gabby finishes, her face flushed and eyes bright. The sight of her reminds me of Nicholai, of the way he looked in the kitchen, his question lingering in the air between us. Will you stay?

Gabby closes her eyes. "But not this time. If you're going to keep doing this to yourself, if you're going to keep making these...these terrible decisions, with no thought for the people who actually care about you..." She shakes her head, curls bouncing. "I'm not going to be there at the end to help you pick up the pieces when it all goes to shit. We're not," she amends, shooting her brother a dark look.

"Fine," I say, just as TJ opens his mouth. "I don't need anyone picking up the pieces. I can take care of myself, thanks."

"Fine," she retorts. Tears gather in her eyes. The anger burning in my chest ices over at the sight and guilt takes its place.

"Come on." TJ reaches for his sister's hand. She bats him away. "Gabby. Amara—"

"I'm heading back out." I retreat to the stairs, ignoring the ache in my throat. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."