I miss my brother like I miss air. I can’t see him or hear him unless my mother allows it. I don’t know where they live, and Asher doesn’t have a phone. I couldn’t call him even if I wanted to. He has my number, but he never calls.
I don’t know what Mom has told him about me. She insists he doesn’t want to see me, but I don’t know if that’s really true.
I just want to see him again—paint his hands and let him smear colors on my face. Hug him. Take him to the park. Make him a snack. Justbewith him. I miss him so much it hurts.
After my last phone call with Mom, I sent her the money she asked for Asher’s painting class. I hoped it really was for him and that maybe the gesture would convince her to let me see him. But she refused again. She only granted me one call this afternoon, on her terms and I only hope she doesn’t forget.
I need to hear his voice, to tell him I love him, to promise him we’ll be together again. I’m saving money for a lawyer, and, someday, I’ll fight for custody.
I blow out the candles, and when I open my eyes again, my friends shower me in handfuls of colorful confetti. I burst out laughing as the tiny papers rain down around me.
“Happy Chrismukkah?” Will teases, reading the words on my T-shirt.
I nod as I climb out of bed. “It’s my favorite T-shirt. Aunt Evelyn made it for me.”
Fleur pads after me as I rummage around the room for a pair of cotton shorts. Once I slip them on, I shut off the stereo I’d left playing last night to help me sleep. It didn’t work—I woke up at least three times from nightmares because I can’t shake the fear that my mother will walk into my room to whisper something cruel, shove me, or slap me.
I sit back down on the bed, this time between Maggie’s legs because she’s stolen the spot I left. She hands me the daisies.
“Who’s Aunt Evelyn?” she asks.
“My aunt,” Vincent answers, resting his guitar against the wall.
Will perches at the foot of the bed while Sam sprawls on the pink ottoman by the window. Steven sits on Maggie’s other side, while Vincent stays on the bed but as far away from me as possible.
Sam’s eyes light up. “Oh, is that the woman you were doing Pilates with when I got back from internship the other day?” He smirks and takes a massive bite out of one of the donuts.
I blink, realizing. Those donuts—Sam’s words—everything clicks. I crawl over to Vincent in an instant and grab his shoulders. “Is Aunt Evelyn in town?”
He nods slowly. “Yes, I—”
I cut him off, throwing my arms around him. Happiness floods me, but so does worry. If Evelyn is here, it means she sensed something was wrong with Vincent and came to take care of him.
He can’t always open up to his parents, not about everything. Only Evelyn has always been able to read him perfectly. Knowing she’s here makes me happy. But it also confirms what I feared: something’s wrong. I’ve felt it. He shouldn’t have left his parents’ home.
He’s not stable enough to live alone right now. I’m convinced he’s stopped taking his medication and even lies to Sam about it. I trust Vincent, but he doesn’t realize what he’s doing when he doesn’t take care of his health.
Right now, his hair’s messy, his face carrying the look of someone who’s just slept fifteen hours straight.
I glance at Sam. He meets my eyes and simply nods. We both know. We shouldn’t talk about Vincent behind his back, but I’m lost. I can’t call his parents—that would betray his trust and create chaos. And Vincent won’t talk to me about it. Sam is the only one left.
Sam doesn’t share details about their relationship, and I respect that. I don’t care about the details—I just need to know my best friend’s in safe hands. And if anyone can keep him safe, it’s Sam. I would entrust him with my life without hesitation.
Since our fight, Vincent and I have avoided each other, especially after what happened before we argued—when we danced. In that moment, it felt like everything went back to how it was before he left. Or worse—back to before that day in front of the music room. Back when all I wanted was to be near him, to spend every afternoon making out in his bed.
I hate thinking about it. I thought I’d gotten over it. I thought I’d moved on. I don’t want to suffer anymore, and I don’t want him to suffer because of me.
But still... I can’t be the only one who felt that energy between us the other night. It can’t all be in my head.
And yet, there’s Steven. Things with him are good—except for the fights, the silences, the miscommunication. Still, he needs me more than ever, especially with his surgery coming up. I can’t let conflicting feelings ruin us. I won’t ruin us.
Even if Steven and I ended, I would never pursue Vincent. They’re practically brothers and I would never destroy what they have.
When Vincent and I separate from the hug, his cheeks are flushed and he refuses to meet my eyes.
Sam keeps eating, grinning as always, Maggie scrolls on her phone and Will builds a precarious tower of presents. Steven, though, watches us with a raised eyebrow, his gaze sharp and unreadable—as if he’s studying us.
Will finally stands and deposits the gift tower on my lap. “We have lots of surprises for you today, birthday girl! But first—open your gifts.”
