Chapter 18 Solana
SOLANA
I wake to an empty space beside me that was once filled. For a few seconds, I’m disoriented, rubbing my eyes as my mind retraces last night.
Kel’s hands on me. The knife sliding into his stomach. His blood on my bedroom floor. Digging his grave in the desert. Falling asleep in Silver’s arms.
But instead of panic or confusion, I feel... rested.
For the first time in weeks—maybe even months—I actually slept through the night. I was safe and warm and at ease.
I stretch in Silver’s bed, not exactly ready to leave this cocoon and face the world outside. But as I lie here, breathing in the scent of him on the pillows, I slowly come to terms with a dark truth that should probably disturb me but doesn’t.
I don’t regret killing Kel.
…not even a little bit.
Maybe I’m even proud of it, in some twisted way.
When he had me pinned, trying to do it again, I didn’t freeze. I didn’t become his victim or be the helpless girl he clearly thought of me as.
I stopped him. Permanently.
Kel was a predator who drugged me, raped me, then came back to do it again while threatening to destroy my life with blackmail.
There’s no telling how many others he’s done the same to, but something tells me I wasn’t the first.
He deserved what he got. I’m simply the one who gave it to him.
I’ve spent a long time being unsure of who I am and yearning to feel accepted and be seen. But I’m not the insecure girl who thought changing my clothes would make me a new person. Or that becoming a famous actress would finally make people care about me.
I’m braver, bolder than I’ve ever realized, and I don’t need to take on a different character to pretend I’m those things. It’s who I really was all along.
The smell of coffee finally draws me from bed. I pad downstairs in Silver’s oversized clothes, finding him at his kitchen table. He’s got a mug in one hand, scrolling through Kel’s phone with the other.
“Coffee’s fresh,” he says without looking up. “I don’t have much for breakfast—I can’t cook worth a damn—but there’s cereal in the pantry. The kind Jack likes with the marshmallows.”
I laugh softly and say, “Pass. I’ll take some coffee though.”
I pour myself a cup and add some creamer and sugar before joining him at the table.
The morning sun pours into the room and catches the silver tones in his hair, highlighting the lines of concentration around his eyes and the chiseled angle of his jaw.
He looks so… experienced. So mature in the most attractive, masculine way that it makes my belly ripple with butterflies.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks, still focused on the phone.
“Great. Better than I have in a really long time.”
“Good,” he says, thumbing through what looks like texts. “That’s good.”
“What are you doing with his phone?”
“Evidence erasure and setup. Making it look like he ran. Planting seeds. Tying up loose ends. Got a full day of this ahead.”
Guilt niggles away at me and I frown. Because of me, Silver has taken on the burden of covering up a whole murder.
This is my fault.
“Listen, I can handle it. Let me fix my own mess—”
“It’s alright,” he cuts me off, still not looking at me. “I’ll handle it. Just remember—not a soul. This never happened.”
“Um… there’s… there’s stuff on his phone. The pics and videos…”
“Already deleted the album. I’ve got to log onto his cloud and delete them from there too. I didn’t look at them and you shouldn’t either.”
I swallow against the thick lump in my throat and nod. “Yeah, I don’t think I want to even know. I saw enough from the stills. Silver… thank you. For everything. For last night, letting me stay here, letting me sleep in your—”
“You better get ready for your audition,” he interrupts, standing abruptly, like I’ve crossed some invisible line. “Big day. Don’t want to be late.”
He’s already walking out of the kitchen, coffee abandoned on the table.
“Silver—”
“We’ll talk later, Solana.”
But the way he says it, the wall that’s suddenly between us, tells me we won’t. He’s pulling away. After holding me all night—after everything we’ve shared—he’s obviously shutting me out.
He’s shutting down. But why?
I sit alone in his kitchen, drinking his coffee, wearing his clothes, and realize what’s happening. We got too close. We’ve crossed too many lines. Now that the immediate danger is over, he’s trying to rebuild the boundaries between us.
The problem is, I don’t think either of us actually wants them anymore.
But want and should are two different things. Silver’s always been better at should than want.
“—and I’ll wait for you, Samuel Moonshine Hayes, even if it takes a lifetime.
Even if the war never ends. Because that’s what you do when you love someone more than life itself,” I drawl, delivering the final words of Magnolia’s climactic monologue.
Tears gloss my eyes, threatening to fall but held back by sheer will.
This is the moment that makes or breaks the audition—Magnolia’s profession of undying love as Moonshine leaves for war, not knowing if he’ll return.
Silence stretches for a few heartbeats, then scattered applause breaks out from the handful of people watching auditions.
The three judges lean together at their table, consulting each other. Mr. Davies, the director who’s run the community theater for twenty years, actually smiles.
That’s either very good or very bad.
“Thank you, Miss Youngblood,” he says, making a note on his clipboard. “Please wait in the lobby with the other callbacks.”
The next five minutes feel like five hours. Five other girls auditioning for Magnolia stand with me in the lobby, all of us pretending we’re not sizing each other up, calculating our chances.
Some of them, like Jennifer, have been in every community production since middle school. Others, like Maya, have studied at some fancy theater camp in upstate New York.
“Ladies, please return to the stage.”
We file out, standing in a line facing the judges. My hands shake, but I clasp them in front of me, chin confidently raised. After everything I’ve been through, this shouldn’t scare me.
Mr. Davies stands, clipboard in hand, drawing out the moment almost theatrically. “First, you all did wonderfully. Any of you could play this role. But the role of Magnolia goes to... Solana Youngblood.”
I gasp, my hands flying to my mouth. The other girls offer tight, forced congratulations, their disappointment and shock hardly concealed. Jennifer looks like she’s been slapped. Maya mutters something about diversity picks, which I ignore.
“Rehearsals start Monday,” the director continues. “Six p.m. sharp. Don’t be late. Congratulations, Solana. You earned this.”
I practically float out of the auditorium, pulling out my phone and texting Silver before I even hit the parking lot.
I GOT IT! I’M MAGNOLIA!
“Look who it is. Hey, blackout.”
The familiar voice makes me freeze midstep. I glance up from my phone to see Shay and Yvette approaching across the parking lot, and my good mood evaporates into nothing. Both girls look more pissed than I’ve ever seen them, making no attempt to hide their glares.
My body tenses, unease creeping up my spine.
But then I remember last night. I remind myself how I defended myself against Kel and watched him die without mercy. I helped dig his grave and buried him, and I’m not sorry about it.
Which means I’m not about to take any more disrespect. Not anymore.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“What did you do?” Shay asks back accusatorially. “You sent those bikers after Kel, right? Your uncle’s gang?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit!” Yvette spits. “Spencer told us everything. Some psycho from that club threatened to cut off his fingers. Now Kel’s not answering anyone’s texts. What the fuck did you do?”
They’re worried about him. These girls who watched me stumble and fall and saw me barely conscious that night are more worried about the man who took advantage of me than they’ve ever been about me.
They really were never my friends. I don’t know how it’s taken me this long to see it.
The shock of it morphs into burning outrage that heats my skin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but it sounds like Kel and Spencer messed with the wrong person. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
“Listen, if we find out—”
“You’ll what?” I interrupt coldly. “Am I supposed to give a shit? Let me tell you right now, I don’t. Get out of my way.”
A tense second passes where they glare at me and then exchange a look as if calculating what to do next. They step aside, letting me pass, but even as I do, I feel their heavy stares with every step I take.
This isn’t over. I already know Shay and the others won’t stop pushing for answers about Kel, but I’m also not worried. I survived last night, and I’ll get through whatever else they want to throw at me too.
I knock on Silver’s door as the sun sets behind me, painting the sky different shades of orange and pink.
When he answers, his features shift with visible conflict—his blue eyes narrow ever so slightly and his jaw sets, the thick Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing from a hard swallow. It’s as if he’s forcing himself to stand strong and not give the reaction he truly wants to.
“Solana,” he says slowly. “You didn’t mention you were coming over.”
“Can I come in? Please? I think we should talk.”
He considers me for another second, his internal war written across his face and evident in his tense, broad shoulders. Then he finally stands aside.
“Yeah… yeah, come in. I picked up pizza on the way home if you’re hungry.”
His house smells like pizza and the woodsy cologne he wears. Two scents that surprisingly go well together and make the corners of my lips quirk slightly.
Is it wrong I imagine coming home to him? To this after a long day where we then share dinner together?
It’s silly and immature, but it would be nice…
We settle in the living room with the pizza box propped open on the coffee table. Pepperoni and mushroom still hot enough that cheese stretches when I grab a slice.