Page 54 of Claimed By The Other Brother

I climb into bed early, pulling the covers up to my chin. For the first time in three days, I feel something other than numbness. Hope, maybe. Or at least the possibility of it.

I close my eyes and let myself imagine a version of the future where I'm okay again. It feels impossibly far away. But maybe New York will help me find my way there.

Chapter Nine

Scarlett

The car arrives at seven AM sharp.

Jane and Sarah are already downstairs when I emerge from my building, rolling my suitcase behind me. They look far more awake than I feel, both of them clutching travel mugs of coffee and grinning.

"Ready?" Sarah asks.

I nod, climbing into the back seat beside them.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The drive to the airport is quiet, early morning Chicago sliding past the windows. Traffic is light. The sky is gray and overcast, threatening rain.

By the time we reach O'Hare, I'm starting to feel the first hints of excitement breaking through the fog that's surrounded me for days. Maybe this is what I need. Maybe getting away will help.

We check in, get through security, and find our gate with time to spare. Jane buys us all coffee and pastries,and we sit in the uncomfortable airport chairs, waiting for boarding to begin.

"How are you feeling?" Jane asks, studying me over the rim of her cup.

"Better," I admit. "Getting out of my apartment was the right call."

"Damn right it was," Sarah says.

"You're going to have an amazing time in New York. We all are."

When they call our boarding group, we shuffle onto the plane. I take the window seat, Jane in the middle, Sarah on the aisle. The plane fills up around us, passengers stowing luggage and settling in.

I lean my head against the window as the plane taxis to the runway. Chicago disappears behind us as we lift into the air, the city growing smaller until it's just a grid of buildings and streets. I close my eyes and try not to think about what I'm leaving behind. Miles. The humiliation. The wedding that never happened.

Dax.

The thought slips in before I can stop it. He's in New York. Somewhere in the city I'm flying toward right now. Will I ever see him again?

I shake the thought away. This trip isn't about him. It's about me. About healing. About figuring out what comes next. I focus on the clouds outside the window, the sky endless and blue above them.

The plane lands smoothly, touching down at JFK. We collect our bags and find a car to take us into Manhattan. The drive feels longer than itprobably is, traffic thick even in the middle of the day. But then the skyline appears, buildings rising impossibly tall against the sky, and something in my chest loosens.

New York. A city where no one knows me. Where I can be anyone I want to be. The hotel Jane and Sarah booked is in Midtown, a boutique place with a charming lobby and friendly staff. We check in quickly, and a bellhop helps us with our bags to the elevator.

Our suite is on the eighth floor. It's perfect—two bedrooms, a shared living space with a couch and small kitchenette, windows overlooking the city.

I drop my suitcase and walk straight to the window. Manhattan spreads out before me, a chaos of buildings and movement and life.

"This is exactly what I needed," I say, not turning around.

Jane comes to stand beside me.

"I'm glad we did this."

Sarah joins us on my other side.

"We're going to have the best time. I promise."