Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(72)

“I was going to,” Sergei says while we ride down the Masquerade’s elevator to the lobby. We were supposed to be at Retrograde, the Elvis-themed diner, about twenty minutes ago. He adds, “You’re the one who couldn’t land a triple-sault today.”

I’m not reigniting a pointless argument. Geoffrey quickened the tempo of the music for Wheel of Death—and we’re only thirty-one days away from the premiere. These little changes affect the whole routine, and I lose time for extra rotations in the air.

I feel like I can’t keep up with the music anymore, and I’ve never had that problem. Rhythm—it’s one of the few skills I actually excel at.

Sergei keeps glancing at me. Waiting for me to reply.

I unwrap a peppermint from my pocket. I already offered him one to break the ice, and he said no thanks before I could toss it to him.

I haven’t hung out with Sergei outside of work yet, and now we’re about to have a dinner with immediate family only: Sergei, Nikolai, me, Timofei, and Katya.

(It’s going to be awkward as fuck.) Our dark hair is wet from quick showers, and I half-expected Sergei to dress in sportswear like me: black Under Armour pants, a plain blue tee. Instead, he wears a Metallica T-shirt with black jeans.

Metallica. As in, the heavy metal band. I’m still shocked.

If I try to understand my twenty-eight-year-old brother, then that means I care about him—and I don’t want to care right now.

Sergei exhales a tense breath.

I frown as he wipes his clammy palms on his thighs. “You’re nervous?” (So much for not caring.) His eyes flit to me. “Yeah. I haven’t been making any ground with Timofei, but he probably told you.”

I nod. Timo still isn’t welcoming Sergei at all.

The grudge is simple and also explains my reservations with Sergei. Our history: we believed for the longest time that Nikolai was forced to take care of the three of us. Not even a year ago, we learned that when our immediate family split up, the only ones given a choice between a touring show or a resident show were the three oldest sons: Sergei, Nikolai, and Peter.

Sergei and Peter chose to travel the world with our parents.

Nikolai chose to stay with us. To become our guardian.

Their choices are loaded with emotion and feeling that none of us can separate out. Sergei decided to leave us and also let his younger brother carry a massive responsibility alone.

I think about how different my life would’ve been if Sergei chose us and New York. I wouldn’t have filled the co-parent role with Nik part of the time. I doubt I’d be the same person I am today—and isn’t that bizarre? That one person’s choice can drastically change the outcome of multiple lives.

Maybe even the foundation of who I am.

It makes me think of my decision in Marc Duval’s office. If I quit AE and gave up my family back then, Kat and Timo—they’d be affected more than I can even process. But I thought about them.

I chose them.

And look, I’m not trying to blame Sergei for how I turned out and my own issues—I wouldn’t. I just think he has a lot to prove to Timo. To Katya. To me. And I can’t lead him there.

I don’t know the path to redemption. I’ve barely even cracked the door.

“Katya has been ignoring me,” Sergei mentions, the elevator still descending. “Nikolai said to try English instead of Russian, but she won’t reply in any language.”

Kat and Timo offer a lot of love if you’re on their side. To be against them, it’d be a fucking nightmare. I can’t imagine it. Nik can probably relate more, but I’d hate for that to be me.

“They’ll come around,” I end up saying, wrapping him up in a fantasy. I like making people feel good, and the truth is cold. It could take them years to accept Sergei into their lives. It’ll take me less, even if he agitates me. Even if I can’t stand to be around him or listen to his voice.

I’ll be cool with him in a couple months. I already know this about myself.

I already feel it happening.

Sergei exhales. “I hope so.”

I suck on a peppermint. “Why are you telling me this anyway?”

His gray eyes, identical to mine, flit to me again. “Nik told me ‘while everyone loves Timo, Luka loves everyone else.’ I thought you’d care.”

What shocks me more: that Nikolai knows me this well or that Sergei looks to me to help bridge the divide in our family?

I’m all out of answers.



*



Sergei and I walk down the single aisle of red vinyl booths and a bar counter with retro stools. The diner is small and open-faced to the casino floor, so I easily spot my family in the back. And chances are, they’ve already spotted us.

Timo slides out of a circular corner booth, his effervescent grin on me. He used blue glitter to line the bottom of his eyes, and he pinned a tiny disco ball to his leather jacket. “We waited for you to order food,” he says as I greet him with a hug.

“Thanks, dude.” I slide in next to Kat.

She scoots a glass-bottled soda to me. “We got you a Fizz.”

I reach into my pocket and slyly hand her a packet of Starbursts. (Yeah, I have to do this beneath the table like it’s a drug deal. Nik lectures me every time I supply her candy because she’s prone to cavities.) Timo takes a seat beside me—all without acknowledging Sergei, who loiters uncomfortably. An awkward second ticks by before he slips into the booth next to Nik. Knowing how much Sergei wants to mend things, I almost feel badly by the cold-shoulders.