Page 73 of Set Play

Chapter 40

Élise

“Élise!”

Despite the fact that he can easily walk ten steps down the hall to my door, Henri yells for me from the living room.

I ignore him. Give him a taste of his own damn medicine.

I’ve been here for three days, and anytime I even remotely hint at talking about things related to the rivalry, Henri changes the topic. I’m sick of it. Well now you know how Mateo felt when you were being avoidant with him.

Henri’s the only person I’ve ever struggled to initiate confrontation with, likely because I’ve always seen him as my protector. How else was I to view the only person, besides my parents, that stuck around and defended me after everyone turned on me when I had to quit the teams?

Shutting my eyes against the onslaught of memories from the days leading up to me switching to homeschooling, I take a deep breath and shake my head. It doesn’t matter. He may have defended me then, but what he did to Mateo is still wrong.

My rose-tinted goggles have come off and now, so will my gloves.

A smirk pulls at my lips when I hear his elephant-like steps trampling down the short hallway stopping in front of my borrowed room. He knocks once before shoving the door open. “Élise, did you not hear me?”

“I did,” I say coolly. “However, I’m not a dog that you can call at your whim. You ignored me when I tried to talk to you, and now you face the consequences. Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”

“Quel est ton problème? C'est la semaine des requins ou…?1”

The comment shreds any hesitation I have to fully commit to confronting him. “Just because I’m pissed off doesn’t mean I’m on my period, you misogynistic tool! It’s because I have tried to talk to you for well over a month and you ignored me. UN MOIS, HENRI!2 And why? Because you knew it was about the rivalry.”

At the mention of the rivalry name, I can practically see Henri fortifying his mental walls. “I don’t want to talk about that,” he spits.

“Well, that’s too fucking bad. I deserve to know why the hell you have been lying about the rivalry for six years.”

Whatever he thought I was going to say, it wasn’t that. Henri’s face reddens until he nearly matches a tomato, which is quite impressive given his pasty complexion. “Nothing to say about that, frère?”

Rather than reply, Henri turns and walks out of my room. Mouth ajar, I stare after him for a moment before scrambling off the bed and into the hall. “Où vas-tu ? Tu ne peux pas simplement partir comme ça.3”

“Watch me. And I’ll go wherever I want, I’m a grown ass man!” he shouts over his shoulder as he slides on his shoes and grabs his keys. Without a second glance, Henri storms straight out the door.

I grab my jacket off the hook on my way through his living room and catch the door just before it shuts, refusing to let him end the discussion. With one arm in a sleeve, I rush out, hoping to catch him before the elevator doors close.

It seems luck is on my side tonight because there, at the end of the hall, impatiently waiting for the elevator to arrive, stands my brother. He doesn’t turn at the sound of my approaching steps, just snaps, “Go back to my apartment, sœur.”

“Non! Parle-moi, s'il te plaît!4”

Stubbornly refusing like the jackass he is, Henri moves to the stairwell. Evidently he’s willing to walk down twenty-eight flights of stairs to avoid me.

Well, good thing he’s not the only stubborn one.

As he reaches the next landing down, I grab his elbow. “Henri! Why are you being like this?” Without letting go, I move to stand in front of him. “You’ve always been the one person I trusted implicitly, the one person I never doubted because I knew you’d always be there for me.”

His face begins to soften at the reminder of how close we’ve always been, but it hardens quickly as I continue, “I just want to understand what happened.”

“There’s nothing to understand!” With a frustrated grunt, he jerks out of my hold, sending me stumbling backward. Panic crosses Henri’s face and he reaches out to catch me, but it’s too late. “Élise!”

He might get paid to make saves, but this time? He’s not fast enough.

In the space of a single breath, I go from looking at my brother’s face to only catching flashes of my surroundings as I tumble down the stairs. Concrete. Metal. More concrete.

CRACK!

Somehow, I avoid hitting my head, but the same cannot be said for my wrist or ribs. I’m sure I’m covered in bruises, but it’s better than a concussion. Laid out on the next landing, I look up, expecting to see Henri rushing toward me. Instead, he’s slumped on the top stair, where I was just standing, gaze locked on something far away.