Chapter 52
Milow
I walked downstairs with a bright smile and excitement buzzing in my chest, knowing there were only two more days of school before Christmas break.
But the second I stepped into the kitchen, something felt off.
Mom stood by the counter, and Ashby sat at the table. Both of them looked up at me, and neither of them smiled.
My heart dropped.
Oh no.
What happened?
I looked from Mom to Ashby again. His shoulders were tense. His hands rested on his thighs with his fingers curled tight as he looked away.
My pulse started racing.
I lifted my hands, even though part of me was scared to ask. [What happened?]
Ashby’s hands balled into fists, and he still wouldn’t look at me.
So I looked at Mom, silently begging her to answer me.
[Is everybody okay? Dad? Wesley? Evie… Scottie and Stan?]
“They’re all okay, sweetheart,” Mom said gently. “Come sit down.”
That didn’t calm me.
I frowned and glanced between them again. My legs felt stiff as I moved toward the table. I sat down in the chair next to Ashby and stared at him again, wanting to know what had him acting like this.
[What’s going on?] I asked again, my movements sharper and demanding now.
Mom pulled a chair in front of me and sat down. She reached for my hands and wrapped hers around them, and I let her hold them, even though I wanted to pull away and reach for Ashby instead.
I kept my eyes locked on her face, waiting impatiently.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, and it took her a moment to gather the words she clearly didn’t want to say.
Beside me, Ashby stayed completely still. I could feel the tension coming off him, and he kept staring at the ground with his head hung low.
After a slow breath, Mom finally spoke, her voice low and careful.
“Hailie has passed away.”
The words didn’t register, and I just stared at Mom, waiting for her to tell me it was some sick joke, that I was still dreaming, and that none of this was real.
But she didn’t say another word. She didn’t offer a single explanation, and the longer I looked at her face, the heavier the reality settled in my chest.
I furrowed my brows and shook my head, trying to force my mind to process what she had just said, but it wouldn’t cooperate.
How did she know?
How could something like this happen?
Nothing about it made sense. Hailie was only seventeen. She was too young. She shouldn’t be gone.
Tears stung the backs of my eyes as I glanced at Ashby.
Finally, he was looking at me, but his expression was closed off and unreadable.
I couldn’t tell what he was feeling. He had never liked Hailie, not after everything she’d put me through, but now that she was gone, I couldn’t tell if he was sad, relieved, or just trying not to let it show.
Maybe he was sad and holding it in, I thought.
Maybe he didn’t want me to see him unravel the way I felt myself starting to.
My throat tightened, and a cold shiver ran through me, crawling up my spine.
When I looked at Mom again, she lifted one hand to cup my face gently, but she didn’t speak.
I could tell she was trying to find the right words, trying to make sense of something that didn’t make sense, and I didn’t blame her.
What could anyone say to someone who had spent years being tormented by the very person who was now… gone?
My stomach turned in a nauseating twist that made it hard to breathe, because I wasn’t even sure how I was supposed to feel.
Was I allowed to be sad? Was I allowed to feel scared, angry, or relieved?
I wanted to cry. I wanted to let it all out, but my body felt frozen and caught somewhere between grief and disbelief.
I thought about Hailie, about all the times she had lashed out at me.
Her anger had never been about me. It had been her way of letting out her own storms, her own frustration and rage that had nothing to do with anyone else.
And I had been the easiest target. The one who could absorb it without fighting back.
The one she could throw all of it at without consequence.
That realization didn’t make me feel better; it made my stomach twist even more, because even though she had caused me pain, she was just a kid too, and now she was gone, and I didn’t know what to do with all the confusing emotions rattling inside me.
My mind was racing.
What happened? Was it an accident? Did she… did she—or was it her father?
“You can stay home today if you want, Milow,” Mom said quietly, her hand still resting against my cheek as if she thought I might fall apart the second she let go.
I shook my head immediately, because staying home would mean sitting with this, drowning in it, and letting every thought grow louder without distraction, and I knew that would make everything worse.
I looked at Ashby, and before I could even lift my hands to sign, he understood.
“I’m coming too,” he said, offering me a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“There will be support at school if you want to speak about it. Ashby can translate for you,” Mom added gently.
I looked back at her and shook my head again.
I didn’t want to speak about it. I didn’t want to sit in a room and dissect my feelings or explain why I felt twisted up inside over someone who had made my life miserable.
I just wanted the day to pass. I wanted time to keep moving so I wouldn’t have to sit here and think.
It felt selfish, but there was something deep inside me that needed normalcy.
I needed to pretend for a few hours that everything hadn’t just turned upside down.
[Can I have warm milk and honey, please?]
The request felt out of place and childish compared to the heaviness in the room, and as soon as I signed it, shame crept up my spine.
How could I ask for something so ordinary when someone had just died?
What was wrong with me that part of me wanted to move on already?
My thoughts tangled together as guilt and anger mingled with confusion and sadness. My heart ached so much.
[Now, please,] I added, because my body had started to shake and I needed something to hold onto to make it stop.
“Of course, sweetheart.” Mom brushed her thumb under my eye and kissed my forehead before standing to get the milk from the fridge.
The second she stepped away, I dropped my gaze to my hands. My fingers found my thumb automatically, picking and digging at the already raw skin without thinking. They kept going until I bled, and until it hurt enough to distract me from the chaos in my head.
“Milow,” Ashby said quietly, his hand sliding down my arm. “Hey…”
I furrowed my brows and tried to pull my hands away from him while my fingers kept moving, scratching and worrying at the skin. I couldn’t stop.
“Milow, please,” he said again, his voice tighter now as he turned fully toward me. He wrapped his hands around mine and held them still so I couldn’t keep picking at my skin. “Look at me.”
My body locked up so hard my arms started to cramp. My shoulders pulled in as if I were bracing for impact, and I kept staring at our hands because I couldn’t lift my eyes.
“Milow, I’m right here,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Breathe. Come on. Breathe with me.”
I tried, but my lungs felt tight and useless. They had forgotten how to work, and my throat burned as if it were closing in on itself. My vision blurred, and I could hear him speaking, but it sounded far away.
I was crying then, and my tears dropped heavily onto our hands. The pressure inside me cracked open all at once, and I leaned forward without meaning to, my forehead pressing into Ashby’s shoulder as my body gave in.
He let go of my hands to pull me against him, wrapping his arms around me tightly. One hand cradled the back of my head as if he could shield me from everything, and I buried my face into his chest, crying without making a sound. My whole body trembled while he held me close.
Mom came back when I heard Ashby call out to her. Her arms came around both of us, one hand smoothing over my hair, the other resting gently on my thigh.
“It’s okay,” I heard her whisper. “It’s okay to feel this.”
I didn’t know what this even was. I felt so much at once. Grief. Shock. Guilt. Fear.
I just stayed there between them, crying silently into Ashby’s shirt while Mom held us both, my body shaking as everything I had tried to hold in finally spilled out without control and understanding.
__
I woke up with strong arms wrapped around me, and for a few seconds, I kept my eyes closed, letting my mind catch up with my body. I took a slow breath and then another, and as my thoughts started to line up properly, everything from earlier came rushing back in without mercy.
Hailie.
Hailie has died.
The finality of that still didn’t click in my mind, but I knew it was true.
We hadn’t gone to school after all, even though I had insisted at first, even though I had told myself that doing something normal would fix it, and that sitting in class would make it easier somehow.
But after I broke down like that, after my body had completely given in, there had been no arguing anymore.
Maybe it had been for the best. Maybe I wouldn’t have made it through the day pretending to be fine.
Ashby’s hand was cupping the back of my head, his fingers spread protectively against my hair, while his other hand moved slowly up and down my back in a steady rhythm. He wasn’t rushing me. He wasn’t asking me anything. He was just there, keeping me warm and safe.
I finally opened my eyes, and my hands tucked against his chest was the first thing I saw.
My thumb was throbbing from the pain I had inflicted earlier, and there were two bandages around it now.
Ashby must’ve put them there. When I turned my head to look up at him, I saw he had already been watching me.
His eyes were soft but alert, and I knew he hadn’t really slept like I had.
He gave me a small smile, not moving away even an inch.
He didn’t loosen his hold on me either and just stayed close.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
I didn’t answer. I just looked at him, feeling the pain still sitting in my chest.
He brushed his fingers along my hair. “You don’t have to figure anything out right now.”
His other hand kept moving soothingly along my back.
“I know your head is probably running a hundred different directions,” he continued softly. “But you don’t have to chase every thought. Let them pass, but stay here with me.”
My throat tightened again, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was relief.
“You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling,” he murmured, his nose gently brushing mine. “There’s no right way to react to this.”
He leaned his forehead against mine before continuing.
“I’m not going anywhere. If you need to cry, you cry. If you need to sit in silence, we sit in silence. And if you need to be mad about it, be mad. You don’t have to be strong all the time, Milow.”
He wasn’t just trying to calm me down; he was giving me permission to fall apart without fear that he would pull away.
I swallowed, my fingers slowly curling into the fabric of his shirt, and I stayed close enough that our foreheads still touched.
I lifted my hand carefully and rested it against his jaw, my thumb brushing slowly over his skin. He leaned into it without hesitation, closing his eyes for a moment before he leaned back to get a better look at me.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, turning his face toward my hand to press a kiss to my palm. I was mesmerized by him and everything he was saying to me, and when he kissed me, I immediately kissed him back.
His hand slid from my back to my waist, holding me closer as my breathing steadied against his mouth. Since waking up, my thoughts hadn’t felt like they were spiraling out of control.
When we finally pulled apart, I buried my face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. His arms tightened around me instantly, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head again, and the other wrapping firmly around my back.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, his voice low in my hair. “Always and forever, Milow.”
I nodded against him, my eyes closing as I let myself sink into his warmth. The ache was still there, and so was the confusion. But wrapped up in his arms, with his heartbeat steady against my ear, it didn’t feel as overwhelming.