Chapter 6
“So,” Cherry began, and just from the way her voice sounded, a careful blend of affection and her love of making fun of me, I knew exactly where this was going.
“Alright,” I said, rolling my eyes as I pulled into her driveway. The flash of dread that crossed her face when she glanced toward her house didn’t go unnoticed, and I hated it. I hated that she had to call a place she didn’t love home. “Let me have it.”
The dread vanished instantly, replaced by satisfaction.
My permission was all she needed. “Now, Blair. I have known you for a very long time. I like to think I know you better than I know myself. So, not that I’m complaining, but the Blair I know and love would absolutely not have been about to kiss a boy she met yesterday. ”
I pressed my lips together, fixing my attention on anything but Cherry’s smug expression.
She wasn’t wrong. I was nothing like Cherry in that way.
She believed the best way to get to know a boy was through the way his lips felt.
I believed the opposite. How could a kiss mean anything if you didn’t know the person you were kissing?
It was just one of the many things we’d never agreed on.
“Which I’m guessing is the reason for the very obvious throat clearing?” I said flatly, wondering if she really thought she’d get away with that unnoticed.
“Like I said,” Cherry continued, unfazed by my very accurate accusation, “I’m not complaining. But something about that boy has you acting differently. And I love it. I just want to check in. What are you feeling?”
I finally smiled at her. At the way she was asking, and the way she cared. This was why, no matter how different Cherry and I were, we always came back to the same place. A deep respect for each other.
“You know,” I sighed, choosing my words carefully, “I was wondering the same thing. He feels different, Cherry. The way he looks at me. It’s not how boys usually look at me. Boys usually look at me like they’re the answer to all my problems. Austin looks at me like I’m the answer to his.”
Cherry let out a quiet breath, probably reacting to the weight of what I’d said.
I knew what she’d been expecting. Something about his looks, or his confidence.
Those things mattered, sure, but they weren’t the point.
There was more to Austin than that, I just didn’t know him well enough to name them yet.
“Yeah, well,” she said, shaking off the seriousness. “I get it. But keep your guard up, okay? Those boys, Austin and Levi, they might seem like good guys right now, but if I know anything about boys, and trust me, I do,” she paused to stick her tongue out at me, “they’re no strangers to trouble.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you liked trouble.”
“Oh, I do. Trust me. I really do,” she said easily. “But here’s the thing. I am trouble. I know trouble. Me and trouble go way back.” Every word of that was true. Cherry and trouble had grown up together. They’d played hopscotch on cracked sidewalks and danced under moonlit skies.
“I’m sensing there’s a but in there,” I said, waiting.
“But you,” she continued gently, “you run from trouble every chance you get.”
She wasn’t wrong. I did run from trouble.
What she didn’t consider was that I also knew it.
I knew the aftermath. The kind that leaves you motionless on the back of an ambulance, lights flashing overhead.
Austin didn’t feel like that kind of trouble.
He felt like the kind that did the opposite.
The kind that raised your pulse until you felt like you might lift right off the ground.
“I’m just saying,” Cherry went on, pulling me back, “keep your guard up. I’m not saying don’t have fun.”
“Have you ever said the words don’t have fun?” I snorted. Fun was practically her life’s mission.
“But be careful,” she finished. “Alright. I have to go face the Dragon.” She sighed, using the nickname she’d given her mother years ago.
Cherry’s mom was nothing like mine. She’d given up trying to control Cherry around the time Cherry pierced her tongue, but that didn’t mean she’d softened about it.
I pulled Cherry into a hug, trying to pour every ounce of warmth and reassurance I had into her. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I murmured as I let her go.
She smiled one last time before stepping out of the car.
I waited until she was safely inside before pulling away, my attention settling on the dark suburban streets ahead.
I tried not to dwell on her words. I knew if I picked at them long enough, doubt would start to bloom.
I was usually full of doubt. For some reason, though, I didn’t want any of it to touch Austin.
Now that I understood why he’d been at the drug house last weekend, I struggled to find a reason to stay hesitant about him.
I struggled to deny the way he made me feel.
The way my stomach fluttered when his hand rested at my back.
The way shyness rushed through me when he called me beautiful.
I struggled to ignore the chemistry that felt obvious, at least to both of us.
And maybe Cherry was right. Maybe Austin was trouble.
But maybe I was finally aching for a little trouble of my own.
The lights were on in my house when it came into view, catching me off guard.
It was nearly midnight, and my parents were usually early sleepers.
I parked in my usual spot, against the crumbling curb beneath the large tree in our front yard.
I tried not to let my eyes linger on the peeling green paint or the sagging gutters.
It wasn’t embarrassment that made me look away.
It was the knowledge of what that disrepair represented.
Evidence of how tight money had become. There’s a particular heaviness that comes with knowing the people you owe everything to are struggling financially, and knowing there’s very little you can do to fix it.
Curiosity followed me up the path to the front door.
I could hear my parents’ voices through the thin walls, and I moved quietly, slipping my key into the lock, hoping not to disturb them.
It didn’t matter. The door swung open and I was met with the sight of my mother crying.
My dad crouched beside her, murmuring reassurances and rubbing slow circles on her back.
Both of them looked up at once, my mom instinctively trying to wipe the tears from her face.
“Mom?” I said, closing the door behind me. I didn’t even stop to take my shoes off as I crossed the room, my chest tightening at the sight of her. “What’s going on?”
“Oh,” she sniffed, forcing a weak smile. “Blair, it’s nothing. We must’ve lost track of time. I didn’t realize you’d be home so soon.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked again. When she didn’t answer, I looked to my dad. His expression was grave, the lines in his forehead deeper than usual.
“Blair,” he began slowly, his voice hesitant. His eyes flicked between my mom and me, like he was waiting for a signal. “We didn’t want to worry you about—”
“It’s Holden, isn’t it?” I interrupted. The familiarity of the moment made my stomach sink. “What happened?”
“Oh, Blair,” my mom whispered. “You shouldn’t have to carry this. I wish you didn’t have to go through it.”
“But I am going through it,” I said gently, taking her hand. She looked at me for a long moment, like she was gauging how much truth I could bear. Then her lip trembled.
“Your brother,” she started, her voice breaking. Tears spilled over as she tried to continue.
“He’s having some rough withdrawal symptoms,” my dad finished quietly. I knew what that meant. I’d lived through it enough times.
“So he’s been using longer than we thought,” I said, sinking down beside my mom, her hand still tight in mine. “Is he okay?”
“We think so,” my dad nodded. “They’re running tests at a hospital in Idaho.”
The word Idaho landed heavy in my stomach. “So you’re going there?” My mom’s quiet sigh told me the answer wasn’t simple.
“Blair,” my dad sighed, brushing my mom’s hair back gently. “Like your mother said, we don’t want to burden you. We don’t want you worrying. Money’s tight. We can’t afford to go.” Silence filled the room. His words weighed on me in the exact way he’d hoped they wouldn’t.
“I know it’s hard,” I said softly, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“I know being away from Holden feels unbearable right now. But it’s going to be okay.
We’re going to get through this. All of us.
As a family.” My mom’s breathing slowed as I spoke.
“There will be a time when we understand why this happened,” I continued.
“Why the universe gave us these challenges. We’ll look back and remember how hard this was, and we’ll know we’re stronger because of it. Everything will be okay.”
I took a breath. My mom followed. We breathed together.
I was saying the same words she’d said to me a thousand times before.
That’s the thing about positivity. There are moments when it breaks, when you can’t see the path in front of you.
And that’s okay. Sometimes you just need to be reminded of it.
“Trust me, Mom,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Everything’s going to be okay.” I wasn’t lying.
I’d always believed it. Because if something isn’t okay, then it isn’t the end.
“This isn’t the end of Holden’s struggles,” I added, tightening my grip on her hand.
“And that’s okay. It just means he’s not ready yet. ”
I meant it. For Holden, for her, and maybe for myself too.
Some things don’t resolve neatly. They don’t end, they just wait.
They linger in the background, unfinished, asking for patience instead of answers.
And eventually, whether you’re ready or not, sleep finds you anyway, pulling the day closed before you can decide what it all means.