Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(13)

Marc nods. “We encourage adult relationships. Chemistry off stage can translate to chemistry on stage, but minors are different. They’re not leads in shows, and we’re nurturing professional careers and a safe environment. We have to protect children while they’re employed by us.”

The same question bangs against my brain. What about when we’re legal adults? Can I talk to her then?

Marc sees. He knows where I’m headed, and he interjects before I ask outright. “The contract states that when you’re both over eighteen, the established agreement will still hold.”

I freeze. “I don’t understand…why?” My stomach overturns on itself.

Marc stares at me like I’m a fragile kid.

Has he broken me already?

Am I in pieces right now?

“Because you’re not taking advantage of this opportunity. We’re offering you a chance to stay in the world’s most renowned acrobatic circus, and you’re not going to backhand us in three years because you’re suddenly of age.”

I’m numb.

“We’re asking for a full commitment. Not indecisive, in-a-few-years-I’ll-be-with-her impermanence. You sign this contract, and you’re promising AE that you’ll keep this a life-long secret. Our favoritism could potentially cost us millions of dollars. Are you following? Have I lost you?”

(You’ve gutted me.)

By signing that contract, I’ll never be able to see Baylee smile or even frown. I’ll never hear her talk or laugh. I’ll never wrap my arms around her shoulders. I’ll never hug her tight or kiss her—fuck I can’t even say her name.

Forever.

“I want to be clear,” Marc says, “if you sign this contract and you both decide to quit four years or even ten years down the line to be with each other, we’ll still have to enforce a no minors policy in case anyone finds out about today’s offer. You take this offer, and there is no turning back.”

My insides are on fire.

Marc throws more facts at me. “When you’re eighteen, you can date any adult you’d like in the company. Just not Baylee Wright. I’m not keeping you from her, Luka. You have a choice. If you’re adamant about being with Baylee, sign the termination contract.”

“He’s not,” Nikolai says firmly, his glare hot on me. Wondering how I can even hesitate to choose a girl over my future. The love I carry for Baylee is stronger than he understands, but it’s a fucking cruel choice.

Because I wholeheartedly, undeniably love Katya and Timofei. And Nik. And my cousins, but really, it’s Kat. It’s Timo.

If I leave Aerial Ethereal, I lose them—and I can’t.

I can’t lose them.

I’ve spent nearly my entire life with my sister and brother. We’re closer than friends. Closer than most family. We’re bonded by experiences and time, and I’m scared to sever all of that.

“Just give me…” a second.

“You’re fifteen, Luka,” Nikolai says, speaking huskily and forcefully beneath his breath. “Fifteen. Whatever you have with Baylee now, it’ll most likely end. You can’t quit for her. It’s na?ve. This is your career. Your life.”

I hear: your family.

Marc passes over pens to all of us. “Luka, you’re young; you don’t get it,” he patronizes me, “but simply put, you aren’t entitled to everything you want. You will lose something today. And you must choose.”

I stare faraway. Marc pretends like I have a choice, but Baylee was just in here. She already made her decision—and I know that she didn’t pick me.

Baylee didn’t just choose this career. She chose her older brother. She chose the memory of her mother. She chose the pieces of her heart that preexisted me.

I understand, and I know I’m about to do the exact same. For nearly identical reasons. Our siblings—they lift us when we fall down, and we’re scared to lose them now.

Maybe it’d be different if we were older.

Stable. With less voices telling us we’re na?ve and wrong.

I don’t know. I can’t know.

An unbearable loss compounds on my chest as I pick up my pen. And I put my hand on the contract with a thousand stipulations. It seems impossible to maintain, but with the threat of the no minors policy, I know I have to.

I know she will too.

We’re both not the kind of people who’d destroy other kids for our own gain. We’d choose to be miserable alone first.

While I flip through the papers to find the signature spaces, something wet glides down my cheek. I rub my face roughly and sign my name.

I terminate a friendship. A thousand peaceful moments. And the possibility of a happy ending.

A few minutes later, we shuffle back into the waiting room—and right when Dimitri shuts the office door, I crouch and puke in a potted plant.

Breathing heavy, I hang onto the wicker vase.

Nik looks slightly relieved by the outcome, but he’s still in damage-control mode. “We need to talk about what to tell other people. They’ll ask questions about why we were called here and why you’re no longer talking to Baylee.”

Just completely depleted, I sit on the floor. “Tell them I fucked up.”

Nik shakes his head once. “It’s too vague. We need an explanation as to why you’re demoted.”