She trailed softly over the skin of each finger again before settling her hand back into Audrey’s. Her mom had some cream that would help. Antiseptic so it would be safe.
It was far too early to be thinking grand things like forever, but she’d read enough the last few days about people withOCD feeling like they were too much to love, and it didn’t feel like that. She wasn’t in love with Audrey yet, but looking after her OCD was just a part of looking after Audrey, and that felt wonderful. Not a chore, not a sacrifice, just a place she could help in whatever way Audrey needed. She wanted to do that, to be beside Audrey in the bad times as well as the good ones, to demonstrate that her OCD was part of her but it wasn’t something to judge or be annoyed with. It was hard to see her hurt, sure, but it was harder for Audrey and that was always going to be a million times more difficult than whatever someone around her experienced because of it. Hallie’s heart ached for every person who’d ever been told OCD made them too much, for every time Audrey had been made to feel that way.
Across the couch, Wes turned slowly and subtly to catch Hallie’s eye and wink. He couldn’t know she was holding Audrey’s hand. There was no way he’d be able to see it. But, maybe he didn’t need to see. Maybe it was written across Hallie’s face. She wouldn’t be surprised. Sure, she enjoyed the movie, and she loved seeing her family, and she adored this time of year, but… the radiant joy she knew she was feeling, that wasn’t coming from anything but Audrey, and of course he would notice that.
Chapter Sixteen
Audrey smiled at the room Hallie led her into after the movie had ended and the guys had gone home.
“I figured it was better for you to be in my bedroom and I’ll just take one of my brothers’ rooms,” Hallie said, not meeting her eye.
“You don’t need to do that. This is your room.”
Hallie laughed. “It’s my teenage room.”
“You don’t say,” Audrey said, amused, as she moved to look at the wall of posters and photos pinned up in a haphazard manner. Friends, her family, and younger Hallie grinned and posed and laughed, feeling so very tangible.
“Don’t feel the need to tell me how much older I’m looking these days.”
Audrey laughed. “You don’t look old. But I’m also glad you don’t still look, what, sixteen?”
Hallie tapped the photo Audrey had gestured to. “Seventeen in that one, actually.”
“Yeah. Still glad.” There was probably no point pretending she didn’t think Hallie was beautiful and fascinating, not after they’d spent the last few hours snuggled up together, holding hands, but she still felt shy about the tangential acknowledgement in her relief that Hallie did not still look like a teenager.
Hallie laughed gently. “Fair. But anyway. Does this work for you?”
Audrey eyed the bed. It would be better than one of her brothers’ rooms. Audrey liked them but they didn’t feel as comfortable as Hallie did, and sleeping in one of their beds felt off.
“The sheets are totally clean,” Hallie promised. “My mom put them on just before we arrived. And the mattress isn’t actually all that old—definitely didn’t have that when I was seventeen.”
Audrey laughed gratefully as she looked down, a little embarrassed. Hallie was doing remarkably well understanding her needs, but Audrey still wished they didn’t dictate everything. When she was back home, she was doing a little better with her OCD, and her mental health in general, but, around her family, all bets were off and she tended to spiral into a pit of self-destruction. The logical part of her knew there was nothing she could do to make things better, that wasn’t possible around her family, but she still had to try, still had to do her part so everyone else could pretend things were perfect.
She nodded. “Thank you. It’s great. I’m still not trying to kick you out of your room, though.”
Hallie waved her off. “It’s all good. I’m offering.”
“Right,” Audrey said slowly as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. It was time.
“You don’t have to deal with that,” Hallie assured her, standing a little closer.
“I really do.” Audrey’s pulse was picking up, getting uncomfortably fast. Her skin felt itchy, like she needed to get rid of it.
It wasn’t real.
She took a breath.
There were so many messages. Missed calls. Angry comments. Demands. Threats. Pleading. Bargaining.
Not anything she’d actually want, just her immediate family telling her that if she wanted to remain a part of the family, she needed to get back and be a part of it.
Her mom wasn’t one for texts.
She dialed her voicemail number.
“Audrey,” her mom’s voice hissed when the first message started, “where have you gone? People are saying you left! You need to get back here. Do you know how much planning and money has gone into this thing, and you’re just marching off, trying to be the center of attention all because you can’t handle me needing a tiny bit of support one time?”
Audrey was perfectly aware how much money had gone into this week. She’d paid her part, as requested.
