Page 22 of Gold Rush

I went from the chaos of finals, graduating, and leaving Boston to working full-time in New York and studying for the bar exam. My dad has come into the city for work a few times, but Wren and our mom have been in the Hamptons since my graduation party in May. I’ve barely seen them the past couple of months.

“You’re super welcome.” Wren’s phone buzzes again. She glances at it. “Okay, I’ve gotta go. And before you tell me leaving early is irresponsible, I cleared it with Mom and Dad.”

Probably because they knew Wren would leave regardless, but I don’t say so. It’s good she asked. Growth from the summers spent sneaking out.

“I wasn’t going to say you were irresponsible,” I tell her. “I wish I could leave too.”

Today’s party is being hosted by one of Mom’s biggest clients. The Hastings practically funded the nature preserve project that she worked on. I understood why we couldn’t skip it this weekend, but I was hoping my return to the social scene would be more of a gentle wading in than being thrown into the deep end.

“Come with me,” Wren suggests.

“Oh, I didn’t mean—I should stay.”

“Why? If you don’t want to stay, leave.”

Things are simpler in my sister’s world. Or maybe I make it more complicated. I don’t want to be here, but at least my presence means everyone knows I’m not at home, crying into a container of ice cream. I don’t want my parents to have to make excuses for my early departure. I don’t want Etta to think our awkward conversation chased me off. And …

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You mean, third wheel?” Wren rolls her eyes. “We’re going bluffing; he’s not picking me up for a blow job.”

“Wren.”

She grins, unrepentant. “Come on, Rory. It’ll be fun.”

Wren and I have never spent much time with each other’s friends. We’re four years apart, which felt like a wider gap when we were younger. I started high school while she was approaching middle school. I was applying to colleges when she officially became a teenager. Ages aside, I act mature while Wren embraces youth, even as an adult. I’ve always envied that about her. I’ve never understood how it’s so easy for her to have fun and so difficult for me to relax into enjoyment.

Looking at my sister’s hopeful face, I decide that trying would be a good start.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“The rich blondes are multiplying.”

Sawyer frowns at a brunette woman who was already standing in the clearing we just entered. “Enough, Cammie.” He glances at me, smiling apologetically. “Rory, this is Gus, Wade, and Ricky. Guys, this is Wren’s sister.”

“That’s some gene pool.” One of the guys whistles—Wade, I think?

“Dude, you can’t hit on a girl related to Wren,” another says. “That’s, like, Cap’s future sister-in-law.”

“Cap?” I ask, confused.

“It’s short for Captain,” Wren explains. “Not, like, a hat.”

The woman, Cammie, snorts.

“Great explanation, Bird,” Sawyer teases.

Wren sticks her tongue out at him. Then they kiss, and despite the presence of Sawyer’s friends, I do feel like I’m third-wheeling.

“They do this a lot,” one guy stage-whispers to me.

“So do you and Lissa,” Sawyer retorts, separating from Wren.

“Not anymore. We broke up.”

Suddenly, the clearing is very quiet.

“Gus …” Wren walks over, giving the guy a hug. “I’m so sorry.”