Ruthless Rebirth: Ruining My Fake Family

My own brother left me to die in a snowbank at twenty below, my left leg going numb an inch at a time. It was the second time.

By the time I made it to a hospital, the doctors were asking where my family was. The only person there to sign the amputation form was me. The first time was a fire.

He carried Celeste out in his arms and forgot I was asleep in the back bedroom. That summer I burned half my back.

He held my hand with red eyes and swore he'd take care of me for the rest of my life. This time it was an avalanche. The rescue chopper could only take two.

He and Celeste got on it. The wind off the rotors threw ice across my face, sharp as a blade. He looked down at me and said, "Wrennie, you're tough. Just hang on a little longer.

The next flight's right behind us." I stayed buried in that snow for seven hours. There was no next flight. I clawed my way out myself.

Later, Callum tore the whole world apart looking for me. But I didn't need a brother anymore.

A few months from now, he'd be the one on his knees in the rain, soaked through, begging me to just turn around and look at him. I didn't know that yet.

Chapter 1 By the time the rescue crew reached me, my left leg had gone completely dead.

In cold like that, once you're past three hours of hypothermia, you're basically waiting to die. I'd held on in that snowbank for seven.

At the hospital, a doctor stared at my mottled, bluepurple calf and frowned. "Where's her family?" "You can't reach anyone?" "Amputate or try to save the leg, either way it's highrisk, and we need a family member to sign.

It's just you?" My hands shook as I dug out my phone. There was a message on the screen from six hours earlier. From Callum.

Callum, six hours ago: [Wrennie, Celeste had a scare and it set off her asthma. We're rushing her to the bigger hospital across the city.

Rescue says the second team is thirty minutes out. Find somewhere out of the wind and sit tight. Be good.] I read it and laughed.

My fingers were so stiff they could barely work the screen. I handed the phone to the doctor.

My voice came out cracked. "I'll sign it myself." "If I don't make it, that's not on you." When the surgical lights flared on, I was calm.

The anesthesia slid into my veins, and the cold that had cut all the way to my bones finally let go. This, I thought, was the last time this family would ever make me feel cold.

Celeste was an orphan the Ashfords took in. She came to us at five. I was six. She wore little white dresses, like a porcelain doll, one touch and she'd shatter.

I was the one in mudsplattered sweats, fresh from jumping out of a tree. Callum held her hand and told me: "Wrennie, Celeste doesn't have a mom or dad anymore.

We're her family now." "You're the older one. You give in to her." That giving in lasted twenty years.

I gave up my bedroom, because it got the best light and was better for her health.

I gave up my piano lessons, because she said she liked it, and the family could only afford to put one kid through the arts.

I gave up my spot at the good school, because if she flunked she'd spiral into depression, and me taking a year to reapply "wouldn't hurt anyone." I didn't hate her.

I didn't even hate Callum. I was just tired. The surgery went well. They saved the leg.

But it left me with bad frostbite damage: it aches when it rains, and I limp if I walk too fast. A week in the hospital. Not one call from Callum.

Busy taking care of poor traumatized Celeste, I figured. Then, the day I was discharged, I ran into someone I knew at the billing window. Spencer. My fiancé.

Or the man about to become my exfiancé. He was carrying two boxes of her favorite imported chocolates.

When he saw me in a hospital gown too, bracing myself along the wall to walk, he froze. "Wren?

What are you doing here?" "Weren't you up on the mountain skiing?" I looked at the boxes in his hands and didn't answer.

Instead I asked, "Here to see Celeste?" Spencer shifted, tucking the boxes awkwardly behind him. "Celeste was terrified that day, she's been having nightmares.

Callum's been with her around the clock, so I just... swung by to check on her." Swung by.

So my own fiancé only ran into me, his actual fiancée, on his way to see someone else. "Right." I turned to take my paperwork from the window.

Spencer caught my arm, frowning. "What's with the attitude?" "Celeste almost died in that avalanche.

Fine, you don't want to go see her, but you don't get to stand here being passiveaggressive about it." "And by the way, you came down off that mountain too.

How come you didn't leave with them?" Chapter 2 I looked down at my left leg, still strapped into a brace.

And suddenly it was funny. "Spencer." "In your eyes, is Celeste the only one made of flesh? And what am I, made of steel?" That stopped him.

His gaze finally dropped to the bandages wound up my leg, and his jaw tightened. "You're hurt?" "Is it bad?

Did you take a fall?" Then he grumbled it out anyway: "No wonder Callum told you to wait for the next flight. Guess you were just being careless." I pulled my arm out of his grip.

In that second, I lost even the urge to explain. "Right. Careless." "Enjoy your visit." I hopped off across the lobby on one foot. Back at the Ashford estate, every light was on.

There was a party going. To celebrate Celeste. She'd cheated death, after all, so surely nothing but good luck lay ahead. Champagne tower. Flowers. Balloons.

Celeste sat between Callum and Spencer in a red dress, glowing, laughing. You'd never guess she was a patient who'd just survived a brush with death.

Heat rolled over me the second I pushed the door open. I shivered anyway. The music cut out. Every eye in the room swung to me.

Or, more precisely, to the ridiculous brace clamped around my leg. Callum frowned, set down his glass, and came over.

There was already a scold in his voice. "Why are you only getting back now?" "Didn't I tell you to wait where you were for rescue?

They said they couldn't find you, so we assumed you'd headed down early." "And why was your phone off? You don't think your family worries?" Family. I looked around the room.

At all those faces, curious, or amused. Where exactly was my family? "Phone died." My flatness clearly annoyed him.

Then he saw the leg, and his tone eased off a notch. "What happened to it? Frostbite?" "How many times have I told you, a girl shouldn't be off doing extreme sports all the time.

Look at Celeste. Quiet, easy. Isn't that better?" "Enough. You're back, so go change. Tonight's about settling Celeste's nerves.

Don't sit there sulking." He pushed a glass of roomtemperature juice into my hand and turned to head back to his seat. Like the week I'd vanished was nothing.

A head cold, maybe. "Callum." I called after him. The last time I'd ever say his name and mean brother.

He glanced back, impatient. "What now?" I set the juice down on the cabinet beside me. And asked, calmly: "The second rescue team.

It never actually launched, did it?" His eyes cut away, half a second. Just for an instant. But I caught it. "The weather was terrible.

The airspace was closed." His voice climbed, like he was working up his own nerve. "That was out of anyone's hands.

And anyway, you're back safe and sound now, aren't you?" "Wrennie, stop keeping score over every little thing. It was an emergency. Celeste is fragile, we had to get her out first.

You're the older one. You should understand." There it was again. The older one. I almost laughed hard enough to cry. I'm only one year older than her. "Right.

I understand." "Because I'm the older one, I deserved to get dumped in a snowbank at twenty below." "Because I'm the older one, even losing a leg is me being careless." "Because I'm the older one, my life isn't worth as much as one of her coughs." Chapter 3 A ripple of whispers went around the room.

Callum's face darkened. "What amputation? Don't be dramatic.

Didn't the doctors say you were fine?" "Wren, you're really set on ruining today, aren't you?" "Are you honestly this jealous of Celeste?" That was when Celeste drifted over and looped her arm through Callum's.

Her eyes were rimmed red, her voice a thread. "Callum, don't blame her." "It's all my fault. My body's just weak, it's useless." "Sis, if you're angry, hit me.

Just don't fight with Callum..." She reached for my hand. I stepped back. Out of her reach. "Don't touch me." "You're filthy." Spencer had had enough.

He crossed the room and tucked Celeste behind him. "Wren! That's too far!" "Celeste has been worried sick about you.

How can you talk like that?" "You know what, I bet that leg's fake too. Playing hurt for sympathy, right?" I looked at the two of them. One, my only blood in this world.

The other, the man who'd promised to love me and protect me for life. And there they stood, two walls, planted in front of Celeste, bracing against me.

I nodded. "Fine." "Since the two of you are so devoted, let me give you my blessing." I took a ring out of my bag. The one Spencer proposed with. Supposedly worth a fortune.

I dropped it into the champagne tower beside me like it was nothing. "Spencer. The engagement's off." Then I turned to Callum. "Callum.

This is the Ashford house, so I'll move out." "From now on, it's just me. I don't have a brother anymore." And with that, I turned my back on the gasps and the curses.

Dragging that stillaching leg, I walked out the front door