Page 63 of Last Destination

“Are you going to hug me or just stand there in awe of my beauty? Come here.” She beckoned me forward, and I stumbled into her hold. The smell of her perfume enveloped me like the softest cashmere throw.

Unbidden tears stung my eyelids, but I kept them contained, wary of the amount I’d released in the last few days. One could only cry so much before the tears lost all meaning, and I’d met my quota for the time being. My sister’s long arms held me in the vise grip of a koala, and I leaned into the ferocity of the embrace, gratitude in every limb for her support: this villa; our lawyer; the private investigator that would clear Marley’s name of any wrongdoing; the groceries in our fridge; even the new clothes she’d sent over when I’d given her our measurements.

“Thank you, Bianca. For everything. We’re indebted to your kindness.”

“Insult me like that again and I’ll have your head.” She pulled back from me, brows knitted in disapproval, but the uncontrolled smirk dancing on her lips gave her away. “I finally got my big brother back. The least I can do is spoil you a smidge.”

I returned her smile with a grin of my own. “You’ve spoiled us plenty.”

I led her to one of the luxurious, butter-soft leather sofas, proof of such spoilage, and beckoned her to sit beside me. Her gaze roamed the room as if inspecting our quarters. Finally, it landed back on me.

“Will I get to meet the others?”

The others. I hadn’t informed her of Ambrose’s departure, and I’d failed to mention Madman in my updates, unsure of her dedication to protecting a death club gang leader. I’d simply told her most of our crew had already chosen to return home.

“Marley is in town for a few hours, so it may not be today. Ambrose has already gone back to LA.”

She raised a razor-sharp eyebrow at the mournful statement. “And you …are upset by this? Is returning home a bad thing? I would have expected you to be champing at the bit to get back to São Paulo, as well.”

So had I. But the more I stayed in the villa, the more I realized I hadn’t a single longing thought for home.

“It’s complicated.” After blowing out an aggressive sigh, I continued. “I’m not sure I want to return. I don’t feel as if I have much to return to. The lawsuit rules out a return to Aileron and, well, I’ve never really made any true friends. My true friends are here.”

She stared at me with such discernment, I withered under the looking glass.

“How are you doing? Really. Not some rehearsed rubbish that you expect I want to hear.”

“I —” The explanation I was about to divulge was a rehearsed line of rubbish and stalled in my throat. I was not well, despite all I wanted to proclaim, but perhaps she could assist me with one of my largest struggles.

“I’m rubbish,” I said, echoing her words since they truly were the most fitting. “I’m beyond rubbish. I’m so far down the bin, I don’t know how I’ll ever scrub off the stink.”

The innocent nicety, regardless of its intention, released a torrent from my soul and I nearly babbled as I continued. “I’m going to need a cargo ship’s worth of therapy for my ever-apparent daddy issues, and I’m positive the only way I’ll stop grasping for a bottle is to check myself into a facility.”

“Nicolas …” Bianca Elizabeth Seymour opened her mouth but, in a rare moment of weakness, hesitated. “Were-were you aware our mother has a drinking problem?”

The question came from so far out of left field I had no chance of catching it. “I was not?” My eyebrows disappeared into my ringlets as I answered her question with a question.

“Well, she does. She has for years and simply got worse at hiding it. So, ‘daddy issues’ aside” — she posed them as air quotes with her delicate, manicured fingers — “of which we share that affliction, your addiction troubles are likely, or at least partially, genetic.”

The declaration hung in the air between us like the toxic cloud of humidity in the jungle. I’d made choices — poor ones — but knowing some element of my addiction could be out of my control … The wave of relief at both the admission and the discovery was almost too euphoric to bear.

“And I’ll certainly pay for your rehabilitation. Would you like to go tomorrow? I can ring a few people to get you in.”

My euphoria evaporated and my heartbeat stalled out. The thought of leaving Marley within twenty-four hours completely froze all blood flow. I needed help from an outside source, that much was abundantly clear. But would it have to be in a sterile facility, far away from the people I cared about?

Maybe Madman’s version of addiction management could get me off the ground until I had the time to check in.

“That’s incredibly generous of you. Maybe … give me a few days to think on it.” I reached for her hand and squeezed the soft skin with a gentle pulse. “I’d like to get situated somewhere before I shut myself in for several months. I’ve survived this long. I won’t have drowned myself in drink by then. You said the rental is up here in a few days?”

“Two days,” she corrected and reached into her handbag to grab her phone. “Do you have a location in mind?”

“None at all.” I thought of Marley, who had admitted she had nothing to return to in Brazil, either. Madman would go wherever she went. Ambrose … Well, he was figuring things out, and one day, I hoped that figuring would include me.

I swallowed the jagged boulder in my throat and pursed my lips, changing my mind. “Could we go someplace — any place — far from the jungle? Maybe an island somewhere? Lots of shoreline, beaches … no jaguars or anacondas, preferably.” I said the last part as an afterthought, but it should have been my first thought.

My dear, sweet baby sister’s eyes lit up. “I may have the perfect location! One of my girlfriends has a small holiday home on an island off the coast of Mexico, and she owes me a favor. I also know she is in Zambia right now on safari, and will be there for the next six weeks. It could be perfect!” She paused her excited diatribe and her long curls bobbed with a flourish as she cocked her head in thought. “I don’t know the jaguar population, though. Do jaguars inhabit islands? Siri —”

Before she could get out her question, I dipped my head, matching her enthusiasm. “We’ll take it.”