Chapter 8 #2
But for me, it’s a nightmare. I just want friends who want me for me and not my magic. I want the world to stop asking me all of these questions like I’m a genius who has all the answers. I just want the world to stop for a minute and let me breathe.
A noise floats around so quietly I barely hear it. Curiosity gets the best of me as I wipe away my tears and listen closely.
I hear it again, and I realize it’s a melody. I turn around to find a piano behind me, hiding amongst the trees. It wasn’t there when I rushed here. Maybe I was so angry that I missed it, or my eyes were too blurry or—
Glowing green butterflies float around it, and I know now that I didn’t miss it. It wasn’t there when I got here.
I created it. The butterflies are my signature, in a way. Always have been. They show up every time I use my powers.
Cautiously, I walk closer to the piano. I know my magic won’t harm me, but I don’t remember using it to create this. The urge to sit down and play is as strong as my need to breathe.
This is ridiculous. I’ve never played piano a single day of my life.
Still, before I know it, I’m sitting and breathing heavily.
A big part of me is afraid of someone hearing me—I ran away for a minute to be invisible, after all.
But I know no one will. I’m on top of a cliff, it’s after midnight, and this is a spot that’s pretty hard to find since it’s hidden by such a huge forest.
I smile when I hit the first note. Then the second. Then the third.
I keep playing.
I know I probably suck, but I feel so free. Like a butterfly flying for the first time. It’s like something inside me has been unlocked. I don’t have to pretend. There’s no pressure. This moment is for me and me only.
I come back and play again the next night. And again. And again. And again . . .
I’m snapped back into reality so hard that it’s like I’ve been physically punched. God, this hurts.
I miss those days. Playing the piano alone on that hill became my safe place as a teenager. I made promises to myself that I’d never stop playing it. I broke all of them.
Now I’m breathing heavily, and I want to cry. I can’t believe I allowed myself to forget, to let that part of me slip away.
I had everything together when I found music. There was never any doubt in me that it was for me .
But I lost sight of it. I went all in on my career in the tournament, set new goals, made a new plan. And now . . . What do you do when every box has been marked? When every goal has been achieved? When the path you were following halts to a sudden stop and there’s nothing more to chase?
I’m Stella Brookstone. I’m never a mess. I always have a plan. I always have everything together—
A warm hand slips in mine, and I find Adrian’s eyes again. I’m about to walk away—run, more specifically—to gather myself, to wipe away these emotions, when his gentle eyes dive into mine.
“You can let it out, Stella.”
I wish the statement didn’t crack me in half. I wish such a simple phrase didn’t affect me so much. I wish I didn’t trust this man as much as I do.
But I do, and tears escape before I can hold them back.
Adrian
Stella’s looking at me with the same longing I saw yesterday. Except her eyes are filled with tears, and my heart is breaking at the sight.
At first glance, I thought Stella was completely calm, but then her eyes blinked a few times, and her breathing turned shallow. This is her brave face, I realize. She’s putting up a facade. For whose benefit, I don’t know. But I don’t care.
I’m an older brother. I know when someone is putting on a brave face. So, I reach out in the best way I know: by giving her a safe space to let it out. Or at least I hope I do.
My hands leave my sides and reach for her, landing softly in the center of her back, right between her shoulder blades.
A tear slips down her cheek, and she practically throws herself at me, wrapping her arms tight around my body.
Another tear follows, and it jolts me into action.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her firmly, and I feel her entire body begin to relax in my embrace.
A tremor shakes her, and it guts me. I hate seeing this woman cry more than I thought was possible.
“Please talk to me,” I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. I gentle it even more as I add, “You can trust me, Stella. What’s wrong?”
“NOTHING!” she blurts, loud and sudden, startling the hell out of me. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s all fine . . .”
But I can tell she’s trying to convince herself more than me.
I take a steadying breath and jump in, refusing to let her believe she’s the only one drowning. “I’m terrified that I’m losing my sisters,” I say, my voice cracking as tears well up. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.
She tenses. Then slowly, she pulls away just enough to look at me. Her eyes are soft, full of compassion, and suddenly I can’t stop the rest from tumbling out.
“I made a mistake years ago, and I think I’ve ruined everything.” Stella reaches out and holds my hand, rubbing her thumb across my knuckles.
“I made a mistake years ago, and I think I’ve ruined everything.” The words catch in my throat, but I push through it.
“When I started my twenties, there was a point where I just couldn’t do it anymore. I was
burnt out from always needing to have everything together. Completely lost in life. I didn’t even know what I was doing half the time.
“When that feeling turned all-consuming, I talked to my sisters. I told them I needed to leave for a few weeks. Get some space from the memories hiding in every corner of our hometown. Find my footing again. They didn’t fight me on it.
They hugged me, and they were proud of me for putting myself first. They told me to take the time I needed to come back feeling like myself again.
Layla cried a little, but she still smiled and told me she’d miss me, but that she was excited for me.
Isabella nodded, but I knew she was just trying to be strong about it.
Hazel didn’t say much, just let me do what I needed to.
“Scarlett promised she’d keep an eye on my sisters while I was gone.
But when I left, it hit harder than I thought it would.
I missed them. The distance and the new environment didn’t help me find my footing again.
But the worst part was when I came back home.
I returned to find my sisters struggling just as much, if not more than I was.
I was only gone for a few weeks, but it felt like I missed an entire lifetime of events.
We all reconnected over the years, getting back our bond from our childhood, but I’ve noticed lately that there’s been a spark missing.
It’s like we’re all playing a role rather than truly feeling united, and I hate it.
“Isabella doesn’t trust anyone anymore and thinks she can only rely on herself.
Layla barely speaks to me. We were inseparable once—building sand castles, painting together, late-night talks about everything and nothing.
Now she’s quiet. She always feels out of reach.
Hazel . . . I can’t even read her. Sometimes I catch her staring at me like she’s trying to remember who I am.
I feel like I broke something I don’t know how to fix. ”
I pause, struggling with the weight in my chest. “I thought I needed space. Just a few months to clear my head, get out of here, stop being the kid with the tragic backstory for a second. But while I was out there trying to breathe, they were struggling on their own.”
I exhale, the guilt pressing deeper into my chest. “Now, no matter what I do, I feel like I’m still trying to earn back something I didn’t even realize I lost.”
Stella reaches out and takes my hand, gently brushing her thumb across my knuckles.
She wipes away a tear from my cheek. Instead of saying, “I’m sorry,” or “I hope it gets better,” or “You can fix it,” or even ask me to share more than I’m ready to, she looks into my eyes and takes a steadying breath.
“I lost everything a couple months ago.”
I blink, startled at her admission.
“I know I told you I lost my powers, but I didn’t tell you I lost my career, too.
Everything I spent my life building—gone, just like that.
Financially, I’m okay. I had safety nets, I always planned for the worst. I was terrified of ending up like my parents.
” Her voice wavers, and the despair in her eyes cracks my heart wide open.
I reach for her hand and gently rub her knuckles, grounding us both.
“Since then, everything’s been chaos. I’ve tried so many things to reawaken my magic, but nothing works. And I—I don’t have a plan anymore. I’m just stumbling in the dark. And I hate it.”
A hiccup breaks loose, and she starts crying again. I pull her back into my chest, wrapping my arms around her like I can shield her from the world.
“There’s so much in my life that’s gone to shit. But I’m Stella Brookstone. I’m supposed to have my life together.” A sob slips out. “That’s what I do best—hold things together. Be steady. Be reliable. And now I just . . . I just . . .”
Stella clings on me and I realize how badly she needs to be held. How long she’s probably carried all this alone. How this might be the first time she’s ever let it out.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, shifting one hand to the back of her head so I can secure her against me.
“I’m not losing it. I can’t lose it,” she says, her voice cracking, and it breaks me all over again.
I hold her tighter as her body shakes, resting my chin on top of her head.
“You can lose your shit, Stella. You can overthink, feel lost, want to give up. You’re entitled to that every once in a while.
Especially when you put yourself under so much pressure.
It’s healthy to let all those emotions out.
” I let my fingers stroke her hair, absently stroking her curls.
When she doesn’t flinch, I let my hand rest there, and after a moment, I feel her smile against my shoulder.
“Maybe,” she mutters, still pressed to my chest. “But I still despise it.”
She goes quiet, but her arms squeeze around me tighter. We stay there, swaying gently from side to side, neither of us in a rush to let the other go.