“Did you put her on fucking drugs?” he yelled, loud enough that I knew anyone nearby could hear. “Did you?” He stopped inches from my face, staring at me like he wanted to hit me. I didn’t blame him.
“No,” I said quickly, raising my hands. “No, man. She’s not on drugs. She’s never done them.”
“You swear?” Holden asked, his voice still sharp, but something in him faltered.
“Yes,” I said, lowering my voice. “I swear. And I’m not involved in that shit anymore.”
“See what I mean?” Blair laughed from behind us. I turned just in time to see her shaking her head, the laugh twisted and bitter. “Holden’s so fucking self-centered he can’t even imagine someone staying out all night without being addicted to drugs,” she said. “That’s how his brain works.”
Holden’s face fell completely. Like me, he was trying to understand who this person was, because it certainly wasn’t the Blair we both knew.
“Isn’t that what they call a narcissist?” she continued. “Hm? Holden, are you a fucking narcissist?” She stepped forward, undeterred. “You just expect everyone to do exactly what you do,” she said. “Guess what. I’m not a lot of things, but at least I’m smarter than you’ll ever be.”
“What the…” Holden muttered, quietly enough that only I could hear him.
“Listen,” I whispered, keeping my voice low, intent on making sure Blair didn’t catch a single word. “Something’s going on with her, okay? Something real. You need to watch her.”
Holden locked eyes with me, searching my face like he was trying to decide whether I was overreacting or terrified for a reason. I didn’t look away. I didn’t soften it. I let him see exactly how serious I was. He nodded once. I pressed Blair’s key into his hand. He turned and walked back toward her, where she was swaying slightly, unsteady on her feet. When he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she tried to shove it away, irritation flashing across her face. He didn’t let go.
I held my breath as I watched him guide her inside, only releasing it once the door closed behind them. Then I turnedback toward the road, my hands shaking as I pulled my phone out and texted Levi to come get me. My head felt like it was going to split open, the images of the last hour looping relentlessly through my mind, her face, her words, the way something had shifted so suddenly and completely.
I had once compared Yellow to the sun. I think I was wrong. Maybe Blair was never the sun at all. She wasn’t a burning force casting light outward, warming everyone around her just by existing.
Maybe Blair was the moon—only ever reflecting the light she was given.
The problem was that I was caught in her gravity all the same.
18
My eyes shot open like my skin was on fire.
Of course, it wasn’t. My skin was perfectly fine, comfortably tucked between my sheets and my blanket. My body was still. It was resting. My mind, on the other hand, wasn’t.
It felt like my mind had been replaying the night while my body slept. It moved through my conversations with Cherry, through the theft of the beer that made me drunk. It replayed her words as we sat on the damp grass. It replayed the way my chest tightened when I saw Austin. It felt like weeks had passed since I’d last seen him, not days. I remembered what he said to me while he drove me home. But the thing that jolted me awake, sharp and sudden like a gunshot, wasn’t anyone else’s words.
They were mine.Death? Yeah, I know all about Holden and death. Maybe next time he should just let it happen.My own words warped in my mind, repeating over and over. My stomach clenched immediately, and I knew why. Guilt came fast, violent in its certainty. My body moved before I gave it permission. I threw the blankets aside and got out of bed, those words melting into everything I thought. I crossed the hall without hesitation, my breath held as I opened Holden’s closed door.
I held my breath because until I saw him alive, the knowledge that I had wished for his death threatened to tear me apart. As if I were a witch, as if my words had cast a spell that could have come true, I couldn’t breathe. But I wasn’t a witch. I wasn’t a prophet either. I realized that as Holden’s door swung open and hit the wall with a soft thump.
Holden wasn’t dead. Not yet, anyway. Seeing him breathe didn’t make me leave. I stayed there, silent, just looking at him. And the guilt deepened, because I knew my new perspective wasn’tthe sole reason that thought existed. It hadn’t appeared for the first time last night. It had come after the second overdose. Or maybe the third. Looking back now, it all blurred together. I hadn’t just thought it then. I had said it out loud. To Lucy.
Would it be easier?I had asked her.Would it be easier if he died? Not just for me, or for my parents, but for Holden. Would it be easier for Holden? He’s tired, I told her. I can see it on his face. I can see it in his eyes. He’s tired of living like this. He’s tired of the way his brain only wants the thing that’s killing him. Maybe this way he could finally rest.
Maybe it would be easier,Lucy had said in the steady, comforting voice she always used.Maybe death would be the easiest outcome for all of you. But that doesn’t mean Holden should stop fighting, Blair. And it doesn’t mean you should stop fighting either.
Fighting for Holden?I had asked her, and she shook her head.
Fighting for yourself.
“Blair?” Holden’s groggy voice pulled me back into the present. I gave a small shake of my head, forcing my eyes to focus. He was propped up against his pillows now, rubbing at his eyes as he looked at me with confusion and the faint edge of alarm. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What happened?”
I didn’t answer. I just stared at him while Lucy’s words echoed faintly in the back of my mind, years old but still sharp.
“What happened?” Holden repeated, his voice tightening with concern.
What happened? You did.
“I was just making sure you weren’t dead,” I said flatly, already knowing that answer would only create more questions.
