October 22
Toronto, Ontario

The sound of soft, irregular snoring wakes me up, and I'm momentarily confused.

I'm all but wrapped up in my fluffy duvet, cocooned in the soft canopy of my bed. I'd gone to sleep alone yesterday, so why was someone else snoring in my room?

Wiggling further up in my bed, I peek over the mound of covers and pillows, spotting Wes at the foot of my bed as he's sprawled across the left side of my mattress, his head tucked close to my feet. He has one sock on, the other foot is bare, and his hoodie is drawn up over his eyes.

I nudge him with my toe a few times, and he grabs my foot in one hand. "If it isn't after nine, I'm not opening my eyes."

Smiling, I check my clock. Eight forty-six. Close enough. I'm surprised I slept so long, even if we did get in after two yesterday. But, near-to-constant stress and exhaustion will do that, I guess. "Good morning to you too, sunshine. It's near enough to nine."

Wes groans, rolling onto his stomach and pulling the blankets away from me greedily. I tug them back, keeping one corner of the puffy blanket for myself. His sleepy voice cracks a little as he blinks himself awake with a yawn and grabs a pillow to prop under his head. "You disappeared yesterday. I heard you come home late last night, Ells. Where were you?"

"Theo and I went looking for Greyson once we could slip away."

"Yeah, not sure Mom's going to love that. She was looking for you at the end of the night with that look in her eye."

That look I try to avoid at all costs. Disappointment, disapproval, judgement. No matter her intentions, and I know they're good, I know they're coming from a place of love, I can never seem to be perfect enough in her eyes.

I sigh, frustrated. I'd done everything she asked me to do, from running the auction table to making sure the other volunteers ran the coat check and the raffle. I'd only left after I'd finished everything, even though I'd been sick with worry the entire time. Ryan and Sarah even agreed to cover for me, to make sure any last details would be taken care of.

"Want to hide out here with me today?" I just don't have it in me to face Mom. I don't have it in me to fight on any more fronts. My face aches from the weeks of brittle, forced smiles, of forcing the bright, loving, involved Elle to the front all the time.

Being what everyone expects is exhausting, and I don't know when it will end. Perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect socialite, perfect everything. Will I ever be allowed to be anything other than what everyone else needs? What everyone else wants?

It's like pumping a hundred percent of my energy in two directions and trying to keep that flow even. It's like trying to live for two people, and I'm still expected to over-deliver. I don't know how much longer I can maintain the illusion.

So much of my energy is consumed by Greyson. By my love for him, my worry, my fear. By a need to be there for him. By his need for me, even though he constantly fights it.

These past weeks have been a complete nightmare. I'd barely convinced him to let us help, to let us shoulder some of his burden when Hugh had ruined everything in a fit of frustrated temper— fueled no doubt by the extra bourbons he'd indulged in after dinner. I guess that's where Greyson learned alcohol could be an escape, somewhere to turn when things got hard.

It had taken Theo and me hours to find Greyson last night. Theo even made me wait in the car every single time we rolled up to another party we thought he might be at. It was that, or he'd continue the search alone. No one was answering his texts, more afraid of Greyson's temper than Theo's worry.

As I'd sat quietly, every nerve in my body was on high alert, crackling like the sound of static on the radio under my skin. I'd nearly wept with relief when he'd come back out from that last house we visited, telling me Greyson was inside. Drunk, but otherwise fine.

I keep wondering if Greyson will eventually drink himself into a coma or wreck his car every time he disappears on us. I don't care which one of us is with him. I would just feel better if someone were there for him. I just wish he'd let one of us in.

Twice now, we've taken him back to Joy in some sorry state or other, but as far as we can tell, it just gets swept under the rug. Like so many things have been, it seems. I'm learning about our supposedly perfect family friendships and all the ugly truths our smiles and secrets hide.

Wes turns his face towards me with a grin. His fingers jabbing my ribs pull me out of my thoughts. "Earth to Elle?"

"Sorry, what did you say? We can hang here?"

"Sure, I could use a veg day. But only if I can pick the movies."

"Deal, but you have to bring me coffee from downstairs. I don't want to deal with the third degree I'm sure to get from Mom for ditching. Is Dad home?"

Maybe Dad can be another buffer if I need one. 

"No, he went golfing with Geordie and Rob up in Collingwood. They'll be back tomorrow night. Mom has dinner plans with Brooke and Joy, so we're on our own."

Perfect, I think to myself.

When Wes shoves himself to his knees, stretching hard, I toss another pillow at him. "You snore, by the way."

He only shrugs.

"Why did you come up, anyway? Everything okay?"

He gives me a puzzled look, then sits back on his heels. "I didn't come up here for me, Ells. I came up for you." He rubs the back of his neck, then looks back up at me. "You were crying in your sleep last night, like seriously crying. I could hear you from my room. I'm the one who should be asking you if you're okay."

I hug a pillow closer to my chest, noticing now the black mascara tear splotches staining the white sheets. God, I'd even forgotten to wash my face last night. I must look like a monster.

"I'll be fine, Wes. Thanks for coming up, though."

"Well, you stopped crying almost as soon as I crawled in the bed, so I stayed. Don't get used to it, though; you kick."

I giggle, despite myself, loving how sweet my brother is. Even if I kicked him a thousand times, I know he'd still come if I needed it. It's what family does. Well, it's what family should do, I correct myself. 

"I feel, and probably look, disgusting. If you can continue to be the best brother ever and bring some coffee up, and maybe some toast or fruit or something, I'll take your morning chores this week and do the dishes at dinner. Just protect me from Mom today. I'm going to grab a quick shower."

"Deal." We wiggle our fingers together briefly, in our habitual way of striking a deal, then I drag myself to my bathroom and turn the shower on full blast.

Half an hour later, we're sprawled on my pullout sofa, using my big monitor like a TV. Wes' USB stick is loaded with the movies he wants to watch.

I lose myself in the mindless entertainment as we watch Meet the Fockers. Wes outdid himself with the small breakfast spread, bringing an entire thermos of coffee up for me, with toast, jam, peanut butter, bananas, strawberries, and honey, so we make slice after slice of our most creative combos, cutting them up, swapping them onto each of our plates, and laughing while we eat.

I listen absently to the movie and focus instead on Wes as he tells me about his first weeks in training for the Landon hockey team.

"Lo and I are like celebrities on the team because we know Grey, Hud, and Brodie so well. Brodie is still like a legend on the Regan team. Even though we hate their guts, the whole team admires him. Plus, Hud promised to practice with both of us outside of the team schedule to give us a leg up. They're only taking six new team members, and fourteen of us are in the tryouts."

I smile, knowing how much it means to Wes and Logan that they make the team. It's a point of pride for our families. "You guys will make it. I just know it. We haven't been practicing Mini Sticks for nothing, you know."

His laughter cracks out of him, and I smile, cringing only a little, as his voice flexes awkwardly between his boyish tone and a deeper, raspier baritone that's starting to set in permanently.

Looking at Wes, I realize how lucky I am to have a brother like him. I hear horror stories of my girlfriends being tortured and tormented by their older and younger brothers. But not Wes.

I wouldn't trade my relationship with Wes for anything in this world. It's not to say we don't prank one another or get on each other's last nerves. We've definitely had our moments, but we have a pretty great relationship that borders on real friendship. It does come from being united under Mom's strict expectations, too. Although, Wes will freely admit I get the worst of it sometimes.

We did go through a rough patch a few months ago when he'd taken to putting vinegar in my coffee every morning just before we left for school.

He'd soon learned coffee was sacred, and I could tolerate nearly anything else, just not that. I'd retaliated by filling his milk glass with ketchup, then pouring the milk slowly on top. When he'd chugged his morning glass, the ketchup had globbed up into his mouth all at once, leaving him spewing over the counter.

There's nothing Wes hates more than ketchup, except maybe cheese.

We'd called a truce after that and have been living in relatively blissful harmony since. Our biggest arguments are now over who gets to sit in the front with the seat warmer when the weather cools down.

I shift my attention back to the topic of hockey. "Are you and Logan training on your own as well?"

He nods. "Hud gave us a training schedule. We're supposed to run five miles five times a week on our own, then work with him, then train with the team."

I roll onto my belly, squeezing his bicep. "You're going to be buff. And here I was, hoping to hang onto my baby brother a little longer."

He laughs, yanking my tangled, sleep rumpled braid. "I'm already like almost a foot taller than you, and I'm only fourteen. You got all the short ends of the straws when it comes to height in our family, Ells."

I giggle again, flopping back into the duvet. "I don't mind. I have so many of you boys to grab things off the tall shelves for me, I barely notice."

I set the tray on the floor when Wes starts to shove it off his lap. "You want to be my running buddy today? Otherwise, I'll tag Lo to go after dinner."

Pausing to evaluate the condition of my body, I bite my lip. I'd had six gruelling workouts for rowing last week, plus riding four nights. I am feeling restless, though, like I have an excess of anxious energy to burn.

"Think you can keep up with me?" I tease him, knowing full well that it takes two of my strides to match one of his when we run together. He's all legs and lanky fourteen-year-old-boy. The recent growth spurt this summer shot him up like a weed, and he hasn't entirely filled out yet.

"I think I can manage. Plus, you always run better when you're being chased." He wiggles his eyebrows at me, his eyes full of mischief.

Laughing, I elbow him lightly. "I better be after all these years of being chased by you monsters. I swear, what haven't you chased me with? Snakes, frogs, toads, bugs, fish guts, mud, seaweed, I mean seriously."

"Just wait till Halloween. We'll start chasing you with knives, chainsaws, Cujo masks, and whatever else we can think of. Then you'll miss the creepy, crawly, slithery, and slimy things you're used to."

I gulp comically, but deep down, I dread the nearly torturous teasing I get from the boys this time of year. I've forgotten it's Halloween soon. It will also be Logan's and Wes' first time in the shared high school events this year, now that they're freshmen. And the Halloween dance is only a week away.

"You and Lo going with anyone special? What are you going to wear?"

Wes shakes his head. "We decided to go stag, see what the dance scene is all about. Don't want to be tied to a date if it's lame. We can peel off easier to play video games if we don't have girls who are into it. There's a theme, I think. Lo's in charge of costumes."

I laugh at his logic. I wonder if these were Theo's wise words on the subject. It certainly sounded like his philosophies on dating had influenced these boys. "Was that Lo's input? About the dates, I mean?"

Wes shrugs. "I don't disagree with him, but yeah, he suggested it. He said it's how Theo rolls. Plus, on my end, the Briar girls kind of scare me, and since I only really know Vi, Jules, Mads and you from Beaton, I'm not sure I like my chances on that front either. I already get bossed around enough by my number one Beaton girl. You."

He grabs me in a headlock, playfully tickling my sides until I'm breathless.

When he releases me, I smack him with my pillow again. "Soon, I won't be able to boss you around. I can barely get away from you anymore when you catch me."

"Speaking not just for myself, but for all of us, and I will absolutely deny this if it comes up, but I think you'll always be able to boss us around. No one seems to really mind. In fact, I think everyone kind of likes it."

My thoughts wander to Greyson. I wish it were that simple with him. I wish I could just boss him into grabbing ahold of life again, of caring. But I know that's not how it works.

Footsteps outside my bedroom door pull my attention back to the screen. I look up at Wes, and he grins conspiratorially. "Pretend you're asleep," he whispers, pulling the blankets up to my chin. I immediately go slack, trying not to smile.

"Elle?" A soft knock on the door sounds before it swings open.

"She's dozed off, Mum," Wes's voice is quiet, hushed. Almost comically so. Don't oversell it, Wes, I think, fighting a giggle.

"That's unlike her, but then again, she was traipsing around the city at all hours, with who only knows." From under my eyelashes, I watch as she scans my room, pausing at the movie playing on the screen with a small frown.

"Seriously? When has she ever done anything with 'who only knows'. She was with Theo. Grey needed some help, so ease up."

I practically hear her sigh of annoyance. "It was very unlike her to leave before the event ended, Wes, you know that. I would have thought that, given the cause, she would be committed to seeing her responsibilities through to the finish."

Wes stiffens beside me, and I struggle to maintain my neutral position under the weight of my mom's disappointment. "Mom, come on. You know that isn't fair. She did everything she promised she would, and she didn't leave until the last possible minute. There were only like a dozen guests left, at any rate, and they were our friends. Look, call Joy, you'll see Elle had a good reason to go. Cut her some slack. You, if anyone has the most reason to, especially considering Thanksgiving."

I mentally curse Wes for going in that direction, but I can't really blame him. I also curse myself for being such a chicken this morning, though.

But Wes knows Mom's grudges can last ages. He also wants to hold her accountable for her actions. He's idolized Greyson most of his life, so he also wants to protect and support our friend.

Sometimes, I wish appearance weren't so important to her and that she could bend her expectations just a little.

"I already told you and your sister I am not prepared to talk about anything that happened or was said over Thanksgiving."

"Well, then I guess there isn't anything left to say on the topic. You did what you did, kept the secrets you kept for Joy. Elle did what she did, went to help the person whose life was affected by those secrets. At least she's doing something about the damage. It's not like Grey didn't have enough to deal with already. Or was Liam passing away something he was already supposed to be over by the time Hugh dropped the not-your-real-dad bomb?"

From under my lashes, I see a pained look in my mom's eyes, and for a moment, I wonder if she feels more sympathy for Greyson than either Wes or I think.

"One day, honey, you'll understand the decisions you make for friends. But, you're right. She did make her decisions for a friend. I'd be a hypocrite if I held that against her. I can only hope she'll use more judgement the next time she finds herself pulled away from a public obligation."

It's in this moment, I know she knows I'm not really sleeping, but I still take the coward's way out. I sigh with relief when my door clicks shut.

I snuggle closer to Wes, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Have I ever told you you're the best brother in the entire world? Thanks for sticking up for me."

"You're a kind-of-okay sister, too, I guess. It's okay; she's always tougher on you when it comes to all this stuff. Felt like I owed you one. Plus, I want Grey to be okay. I think you're the best way to help him with that. He never could seem to stay away for long when you're involved."

Sighing, I hope he's right. I miss Greyson more than I let anyone know. His proximity is also something I'm accustomed to from as early an age as I can remember. So when he pulls away, I'm also left off-balance.

When I hear the water running through the pipes, a subtle hum, running for several moments, I realize she's drawing herself a bath. So, I look up at Wes, smiling. "How about we take advantage of her being occupied and go for that run? Then grab a hot chocolate or something after at Café Gourmand? My treat." I'll probably need to run an extra five miles to make up for the massive chocolate croissant I intend to have, but it will be so worth it.

"Sounds good. Can I text Lo and Hud?"

I smile at him, loving the idea more and more. "Sure, let's make it a whole gang thing. We can have everyone back here tonight for pizza, too. I'll text Theo, and I'll try Greyson, but I don't think he'll be up for it."

I watch as Wes scrambles away, and I quickly text the boys, sliding into my workout gear and taking the breakfast tray down to tidy up.

Less than ten minutes later, we have a plan, but as expected, there's no response from Greyson. I hold on to the hope he'll see it during the run, that he'll show up in that quiet, unexpected way he sometimes does.

But, as I'm becoming more and more accustomed to, hope all too often leads to disappointment.