“I’m okay now,” I say quietly. “I wasn’t that day, a lot of days really… I’ve hidden a lot from all of you, but I made it home and—” I look down at Noah, whose eyes are on me, open and caring. “Noah made sure I was okay. The next day, I made an appointment with a therapist.”
I look at Ciarán, but he’s leaning forward, his face in his hands. One hand cards through his hair, and he tugs roughly. He knew I wanted the therapist’s information, but he probably thought I came around to the idea after our discussion—not that anything happened.
Abbie asks tentatively, like she’s afraid of the answer, “You saidmade it home.Was it”—she inhales deeply—“was there a possibility you wouldn’t have made it home?”
The question makes every part of me ache, because I still don’t know the answer. All I know is that I did, and I’m thankful for it.
“I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. Aiden opens his mouth, but I continue. “But I’m glad I did. And I’m getting the help I need now. I’ve had a few sessions over the last few weeks, and I feel better than I have in years. It’s hard, but I’m going to keep going. I don’t want any of you to worry about me. I’m okay.” And I mean it. I am.
“Okay, okay,” Abbie says, leaning farther back into the sofa while she blows out a massive breath. “Do you need anything from us?”
I give her a small smile. “Be there for me?”
Her eyes shine. “Always.”
I look at my brother, and he gives me a thin smile and a nod. I know he feels guilty—he takes so much on his shoulders. He’s always felt responsible for me, even though he’s younger. I won’t be able to take that away today, but we’ll work on it. We have time.
Ciarán leaps up from the sofa and walks to the balcony doors, stomping aggressively. He stares out, hands on his narrow hips, with his back to us, and nods his head furiously. “Obviously, we’ll be there for you,” he states, but it’s missing his usual sass. I can see him batting at his cheeks angrily. He hates crying, and hates people seeing it even more.
“C, I’m okay, everything will be okay,” I say gently, getting up to move toward him.
“I know that!” he responds testily. He’s not actually angry with me. He’s overwhelmed, and he’s never been good at processing his emotions.
“Come here,” I say as I reach him and pull him into my arms. His small body fits against me as his arms come around my back.
I hear him sniffle, and then he groans out a deep, “Fuck,” which makes me laugh softly. It’s so unlike his usual melodic voice.
I run my hand up and down his back as he does the same to me.
After a moment, he releases me and steps back. He eyes my chest, seeing a damp patch from his tears and mascara, and wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, sorry.”
I smile warmly at him as he straightens his clothes. “It’s okay.”
“You’re gonna be okay?” he asks quietly, the blue of his eyes shimmering with so much tender care.
“I am. I promise.”
He blinks rapidly and bobs his head.
“I’m gonna fix my face in your bathroom. I’ll be normal when I come back.” He saunters off without a look at the others. Abbie and Noah are aiming reassuring smiles my way.
Aiden is sitting forward in the chair, arms braced on his knees, staring at Ciarán’s back as he leaves the room. As though he senses my eyes on him, he looks up. He takes a long, hard look at my face and nods, almost to himself, before saying, “Yeah, you’re gonna be okay.” It’s a statement more than a question, and he’s right.
Ciarán comes back from the bathroom, face free of makeup, eyes still a little red, but a look of determination in them. He looks at each of us, then back to me, head held high. “Shitty movie?”
There’s a chorus of quiet chuckles.
“Sounds perfect,” I agree easily, at the same time Noah eagerly asks, “Die Hard?”
Making Ciarán and Abbie groan while Aiden says, “Hell yeah.”
Ciarán walks to the sofa and shoos Abbie to the right side. He sits on the far left and pats the seat between them with a sly grin. I take the seat, shaking my head.
Noah winks at me, lips quirking as I drape both arms over the back of the sofa. Abbie tucks herself under my right arm, Ciarán under my left, my brother watching us with a warm smile.
It’s everything.
50
