He drove into a tree, she said. That sounds simple. But it wasn’t.
He chose to get drunk.
He chose to get into the car.
He chose to drive down that road at that exact moment.
“It’s not simple,” she had said again.
And she was right.
And I’ll never forget the feeling in my chest when we talked about it, because I knew she didn’t know the most complicated part of it all. Sure, Jax chose to get into the car. He chose to drive. But I was the one who chose how his fate endured.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, watching her face like she might finally tell me the truth. But I knew Seren. I knew she wouldn’t. “I’m sorry, Seren,” I said anyway. “I’m sorry for not telling you. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” she sniffed. “I’ll… I’ll deal with it.” She wiped at her face before looking at me again. “What are the cops going to do about it?”
My lips pressed into a hard line as the anxiety settled heavier in my stomach. “About Jax?” I said quietly. “Nothing. They don’t know anything about what happened the night of the accident.”
Seren blinked, slow and deliberate, before speaking again. “This wasn’t about the accident?” she asked. “This wasn’t about Jax?”
“No,” I breathed. “It wasn’t.”
22
There was an undercurrent of tension ripping through my house.
It wasn’t so palpable that it consumed every thought in the room. In fact, to my parents, who were so happy to see me that their smiles stretched wide across their faces, it was probably the last thing on their minds. Holden could feel it. It sat heavier with him. Maybe because we were twins, or maybe because he knew where that tension started from. He had been the one to pick me up from Austin’s house, after all.
The four of us sat together in the living room, and despite that tension floating quietly through the air, there was something stronger than it. A peaceful relief. We spoke in smiles, laughed in smiles. It felt gentle, almost fragile. We were all together again, at long last. There was something else we could feel, too. As if a vague sense of freedom had been released into the room. The freedom that comes when lies finally lose their grip. For now, our family was free of the secrets that had grown beneath the foundation, slowly rotting it from the inside out. Holden’s lies. My lies. Even my parents’ financial ones. They were all exposed now.
And sure, discovering that our base had rotted wasn’t ideal. But we knew the truth. We could tear away the decay, wash it clean, and lay new lumber down. We could rebuild—stronger than before. I knew that was easier said than done. We all did. It was going to be hard work. For me, staying healthy. For Holden, staying clean. Backbreaking, painful work. The kind that doesn’t stop hurting just because you want it to. But there was hope. New hope. It shone through the gray clouds like sunlight breaking on a dreary day.
I hadn’t felt real hope in so long. I’d thought I was destined to live without it. I was wrong. And right now, it felt like the only thing we truly needed.
Still, I was the one most affected by the tension beneath it all. While my mind clung to this newfound hope, anxiety threaded through it just as tightly. As the hours passed with my family, the feeling grew harder to ignore. By dinner, it was pressing against my ribs, sharp and insistent. I breathed through my nose when the familiar tingling hit my stomach. Counted to ten. Reminded myself that I had no control over what was happening with Austin. Or Seren. I had no control even if I knew. I only had control over my reactions. And right now, any reaction other than being present, here, with my family, didn’t make sense.
“Are you done, Blair?” my mother asked, pulling me back to the moment. She smiled at me like an angel, her hand already reaching for my nearly empty plate. From the warmth in her eyes, I knew she felt the hope too.
I nodded, taking another breath as she carried the plate away. I let myself notice the victory of that meal, my first away from the program, eaten without counting calories, without fear.I can do this,I told myself. There was no doubt in my inner voice. Only hope. And even though hope didn’t come back all at once. I decided to behave as if it eventually would.
I stayed close to my parents and Holden until the sun disappeared completely. Their love felt like a shield, protecting me from spiraling thoughts about Austin. About his future. His consequences. About ours. Because I knew they were coming. There was no escaping that.
“You okay?” Holden murmured beside me long after our parents had gone to bed. I glanced at him, taking in the exhaustion etched into his face. He looked like someone who had lived ahundred lives in too short a time, especially over the last few weeks.
“Yeah, yeah,” I nodded. “I’m just waiting to hear some news.”
“From Austin?” Holden asked without hesitation. I nodded again, and a small smile crossed his tired face. “Don’t worry too much, Blair. That guy… I don’t know him that well, you know, as a person. But I do know this, he loves you the way you’re supposed to love someone. It’s obvious.”
I smiled at his words, warmth spreading through my chest. Then I looked at him more closely, really looked at him, and noticed again how exhausted he seemed. “Are you okay?”
Holden stayed quiet for a moment before letting out a slow sigh. “Addiction is so fucked up, Blair, you know?” he said. “When I was using, and even in between using, I saw how hard everything was for you. For mom and dad too. I saw it, but it was like my mind was too busy to actually process your pain.” I tilted my head as he spoke, watching his eyes drift somewhere far away, foggy with memories he’d lived through but never fully faced.
“And you know,” he continued, “the last time you were battling your eating disorder… I don’t know. Maybe I was too young. Maybe I was too focused on the drugs. I still didn’t really see it.” He looked back at me then. “But this time, I saw it. I felt it. I’ve been in hell this last month worrying about you. Wondering what to do. Scared you were going to go too far.”
He exhaled shakily. “You’ve been feeling this way for the last four years?” he asked, his voice so soft it barely sounded like a question. Like he already knew the answer but didn’t want it confirmed.
I pressed my lips together, the emotion warning me not to speak. I nodded instead, feeling the weight of the truth pull my mouth into a frown.
