Chapter 16
“Blair!”
I heard Cherry’s voice at the exact moment I set the plate of hot food in front of my customer.
I didn’t bother smiling at him as I turned away.
I already knew what was coming. I had tried to avoid it.
I’d turned my phone off for the last two days, barely even glanced at it as it lay useless on my nightstand.
The silence had been nice, actually. Digital silence. Rare, these days.
I pivoted on my heel, ignoring the curious looks from the customers scattered throughout The Pitt.
Cherry had called my name loudly. Loudly enough that she clearly didn’t care that we were both working.
I didn’t need to look back to know she was following me.
I kept walking. I didn’t want this conversation with twenty pairs of eyes on me.
One pair was enough, especially when those eyes belonged to Cherry.
“I’m taking my fifteen,” I muttered to Greg as I passed him.
He leaned against the bar, supervising. Yeah, right.
He probably hadn’t focused on anything other than the wait staff’s legs for the last ten minutes.
I pushed through the heavy wooden door, letting out a breath of relief when I saw the back room was empty.
Good. Fewer people meant fewer questions.
“Blair!” Cherry’s voice rang out again, now directly behind me. “Blair, what the hell? Didn’t you hear me calling you?”
“What?” I lied, lifting my eyebrows as I turned toward her, the movement practiced enough to look convincing. “Oh. Hey. I didn’t hear you.” I watched her closely, trying to tell if she believed me. She wasn’t used to me lying to her. Not anymore.
“Blair,” Cherry said slowly, shaking her head. The confusion on her face was as clear and fragile as a crystal vase owned by a rich old lady.
“Hi,” I told her, forcing a small smile onto my lips. I walked to my locker and detached the unlocked lock. Cherry didn’t say anything. Her silence was loud.
I could picture her expression without looking at her as I kept my hands busy, opening the small pocket inside my jacket.
I pulled out the tiny bag of pills I’d packed.
I took them into my palm one by one, knowing exactly what each was just by touch.
I unscrewed my water bottle and started swallowing them, one at a time.
“What are you doing?” Cherry asked, her footsteps suddenly sharp as she rushed toward me.
“I’m taking my vitamins,” I said, telling the truth as I tipped each pill into my mouth and glanced back at her.
Multivitamin. Water. Fiber. Water. B12. Water.
Zinc. Water. Iron. Water. Cherry just watched me.
She didn’t say anything. She looked like she was watching something she didn’t understand.
Something that confused her deeply. I didn’t explain. We just stared at each other.
“Blair, what the hell is going on?” she finally blurted, her eyebrows pulling together so tightly they nearly formed a single line.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, carefully keeping the fact that I absolutely knew what she meant out of my voice.
“Uh…” Cherry looked almost speechless, which was impressive. “Where do you want to start? Why haven’t you been answering my texts? My calls? My literally anything?”
“Oh,” I said quickly. “Yeah. I’ve just been doing a digital detox. I think the blue light was giving me migraines.”
“Blair,” Cherry said my name the way someone says liar without using the word.
“What?” I shrugged. “Ask Holden if you don’t believe—”
“I know what happened,” Cherry cut in, tilting her head as she spoke.
“Levi told me.” I stilled, studying her face like it might reveal everything they’d talked about when I wasn’t there.
“I know you and Austin got into a fight at that party. I know you broke up with him,” Cherry said firmly, and I almost sighed in relief. She didn’t know anything at all.
“Yeah, so?” I said lightly. I turned back toward my locker, reaching to put my water bottle away, but Cherry grabbed my arm and pulled me back to face her.
“What the hell happened?” she demanded. “Why are you acting like this? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Her eyes skimmed over me, searching for proof.
“What? No,” I said quickly. “Everything’s fine, Cherry. I just… I don’t know.”
I tried to think on my feet. I tried to find a reason for walking away from Austin that made sense.
One that sounded normal. One that didn’t involve learning, all in one night, that he sold the very thing I despised—and that he had admitted to playing a role in not one, but two deaths.
I couldn’t tell Cherry that my grip on reality had been shaken loose.
I couldn’t tell her because how could I?
She wouldn’t understand. I barely understood myself.
I couldn’t tell her that Austin had dismantled my entire understanding of life in a matter of minutes.
I couldn’t tell her that I’d spent the last two days searching for reasons.
Not even knowing what reasons I was looking for, or what they were supposed to justify.
What’s the reason for bad things? What’s the reason for good things?
What’s the reason for life? For death? For pain?
For trauma? For love. For loss. What was the reason?
And I definitely couldn’t tell her that all alone in my tiny bedroom, with Austin’s voice looping endlessly in my head, I had finally realized there wasn’t a reason for anything at all.
“Cherry,” I said, shaking the thoughts from my head. “I’m sorry for not telling you. Austin and I… we just aren’t compatible.”
“That’s bullshit,” Cherry replied, but her voice had softened. I was taken aback for just a second before the words settled. And again, we simply stared at each other.
“I know,” I said finally, accepting that she could see through the lie. She didn’t know this was the only one I’d let her see through.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready,” Cherry said gently, her hand coming to my arm, her thumb stroking the skin there. “Levi told me it was messy. He said Austin is a wreck. He said he could barely calm him down the next morning. Apparently Austin—”
“Can we just stop talking about it?” I cut in. The words came out sharper than I meant them to, and Cherry went still at my tone.
“Okay,” she said quietly. Then, after a beat, “Blair… are you actually okay? Like, really?” She studied my face, taking me in, and I forced myself not to look away. “You look… I don’t know. Pale. You look—”
“I’m fine,” I interrupted again. “You’re being dramatic.” The look on her face was immediate. Hurt. Like I’d slapped her. And I knew why. I wasn’t being the Blair she knew. Not even close. But maybe that was the problem.
“Do you want to do something when we get off?” I asked, watching her tentative smile begin to reform.
“Yes.” She sounded relieved by the question. “Absolutely. Your place? I saw the trailer for this new movie on Netflix…”
“Actually,” I interrupted. “How about something different?”
“Different?” she asked, tilting her head. “Like… what, HBO?”
“No,” I laughed at her expression. “Like different, different.”
“You know me,” she said, sounding closer to herself now, though there was still hesitation there. “I’m up for anything.”
“Good.” I closed my locker, the metal clanging louder than necessary. “We have tomorrow off. I’ve got a full tank of gas. I’m sick of this fucking town, Cherry. Let’s find something new, even if it’s just for tonight.” She froze, clearly unsure what to say. How the tables had turned.
“Sure,” she said anyway, just like I knew she would. She was always here for me, even when I couldn’t let her be here for me completely.
“Okay.” Excitement spread across my face, sharp and almost dizzying. This was what I needed. I needed Cherry. I needed Cherry, and I needed to become someone new. Someone different. Someone… someone else.
I left her standing there, still processing, as I turned and walked back onto the floor. Maybe tonight would be a new beginning. I needed that. I needed a new story. One that didn’t involve fate at all. One that didn’t involve living for other people.
Because that’s what I’d been doing, wasn’t it? Living for Holden. Living for my parents. Living for Cherry.
But not for Blair.
I had built this version of myself from the ground up.
Constructed her. Created her. She was born from trauma and shaped by fear.
I made her for everyone else. I thought I was becoming someone people could love.
But she was a character. And that character was built on lies.
Whose lies? I wasn’t sure. Maybe my own.
Maybe my idea of who I was supposed to be, so that my life would unfold the way fate wanted it to.
I thought fate was the author of my story. But it turned out no one was.
Cherry was sitting in my passenger seat, but it was nothing like the countless times she’d sat there before.
Usually, she pressed her back fully into the seat, her feet propped up wherever she could get away with it.
Sometimes on the dash, sometimes on the seat, sometimes curled beneath her, crisscrossed like a toddler.
Her head was usually tilted against the headrest, one hand drifting lazily out the open window like the world couldn’t touch her.
Not tonight. Tonight, Cherry sat rigidly straight, as if she were riding in a stranger’s car.
Not just any stranger either. The kind of stranger your mom insists is safe.
The kind you’ve only spoken to three times.
The kind where you’re both silently hoping the ride ends as quickly as possible.