Daniel’s eyes blaze as he takes in my dress, the invitation in my hand. He uses other guests as leverage, pushing past them to get to me faster. Just as he clears the crowd, his eyes meet mine. Any brotherly rage he might have felt dissipates into grief; his shoulders hunch forward, the truth of his condition hanging between us.
Elias walks behind him, nervous as he nods to the other guests, making apologies for bursting through. He fidgets with his tie, and once he’s past the crowd, he shakes his head at me and hurries forward. “We need to get out of the lobby,” he says curtly, taking my arm. I yank it away and watch my brother instead.
Daniel doesn’t talk at first. His lips turn white as he tries to hold back his emotion, reminding me of my mother’s funeral. I see now why it broke so many hearts, the pain and vulnerability he can’t hide. He opens his mouth to talk, but then blinks quickly and rolls his eyes toward the ceiling as if he’s doesn’t want his voice to betray him.
It’s funny how seeing another person hurt can break you down faster than your own emotions. Right now I have to fight hard to keep from throwing my arms around my brother and crying for him. Begging him to wake up.
“I’m not even going to ask why you’re in that dress,” Daniel says in a controlled tone, “because it doesn’t matter. You’re going to turn around and leave before the concierge shows up. We can argue about it on the way.”
“Yes, I second that,” Elias says quickly, motioning down the hall toward the elevators. Although I appreciate the sentiment, neither of them intends to have a heart-to-heart with me away from prying eyes. They plan to take me to the thirteenth floor with a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek, and then they’ll return to face the wrath of Kenneth like a couple of heroes. Like a couple of idiots.
“No,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m fully aware of how my tantrum looks, but if anything, I hope it drives the point home. He’s my older brother, but he picked a really shitty time to act like it. “You should have told me what was going on,” I say. “I know about the Ruby, about the party and the invitation. We could have figured something out.”
Around us a few of the guests have taken notice of our argument. Elias moves another step, trying to usher me forward, but I brush his hand away.
“Don’t you think I tried to change things?” Daniel snaps. “Don’t you think I begged?” His face contorts in misery. “I went to Dad, Kenneth, even Catherine—nobody can change this, Aud. That’s why I told you not to trust them. They belong to the Ruby. I”—he taps his chest—“belong to the Ruby.”
“No,” I say, and grab his arm. “Daniel, we can get Dad and go to my floor,” I whisper, feeling frantic. “It’s a way out, a way back to the road.”
Daniel takes my wrist, squeezing tightly to secure my attention. “I can’t even get to your floor anymore,” he says miserably. “There’s no button for the thirteenth floor, Audrey. It doesn’t exist. The entire floor doesn’t exist. Even if you brought me there, I suspect I’d walk off the elevator and right back in the lobby door.” He looks at Elias, who nods, confirming his statement.
My hope drains away, filled instead with mourning. The staff told me it was too late, but I held on to the small chance they were wrong. I thought they had to be wrong. Daniel and I are special—we’re survivors. I take a shaky breath; my arms fall listlessly to my sides.
“The only thing that mattered anymore,” Daniel goes on, his voice softened, “was to get you home. I asked Lourdes for help because I knew you’d get it inside your head that I needed you. But you’ve got to leave me here.”
“Mom wouldn’t abandon you.”
Daniel falls back a step, looking betrayed that I brought her up. “No, she wouldn’t,” he agrees. “But you’re not her, Audrey. You don’t have to fix this. You can’t.”
He’s right, of course. From the ballroom I hear the faint sounds of the song—the same damn song, calling me back. I let the invitation slip from my hands, watching as it flutters to the floor.
“You suck,” I say, and lift my eyes to my brother’s. Elias turns to me, surprised, but Daniel starts to smile. Boyish and charismatic—that part of him will never change.
“I know,” he allows, “but I’m getting better.” Despite the moment, the words are filled with heartbreak. “And I’m taking your advice,” he says.
“It’s about time,” I say automatically, my fight drained away.
“I’m going to do awesome things just for myself,” he says. “Turns out I’m pretty amazing.”