Chapter 17A
I held my breath as I watched Blair from inside her car.
And then I realized I didn’t have the right to call her Yellow anymore.
Not out loud. Not even in my own head. I didn’t have the right.
The realization hit me hard enough that I mentally flinched.
She had been yellow to me from the first moment I saw her.
Bright. Warm. Impossible to miss. This was the first time she wasn’t anything close.
Had I done this? Had I erased her color?
Blair looked like she was in a fairly deep state of panic, the way her eyes kept darting between the car and Cherry, wide and frantic.
They were speaking without words, communicating in that way only people who truly know each other can.
It didn’t take much effort to understand what was being said.
Blair was saying help me. Cherry was saying I can’t.
Eventually, Levi began to guide Cherry away, his arm settling around her waist as he did.
I zeroed in on that arm instantly, a sharp, cutting envy slicing through my stomach.
It wasn’t dull or passive. It hurt. Levi still had Cherry. I didn’t have Blair. Not anymore.
Blair looked defeated as they walked away, and something in my chest dropped when I saw it.
She looked… startlingly lost. I hadn’t expected that.
When I’d first seen her, sitting on the hood of her car in those tiny clothes, drinking a beer like she hadn’t given a single thought to her own safety, my anger exploded instantly.
I was furious with her. Because if she wouldn’t let me be there to help her, then who would?
Who would protect her? But maybe I was so angry because I knew I had caused this.
She looked different. It shocked me. It had only been two days, but she wasn’t the same.
Not just physically, though that was obvious too.
Something deeper had shifted. Something underneath.
She wasn’t the rainbow after a light rain anymore.
She was a storm. Heavy. Dark. The kind where grey clouds turn black and threaten to drown everything beneath them.
And I had been the wind that blew that storm in.
After what felt like minutes, Blair seemed to realize she didn’t have a choice.
I could have let Levi drive her home, but the way Holden had sounded on the phone, the way he had made me promise that I would be the one to make sure she was okay, I wasn’t taking any chances.
My body tensed as she finally opened the door and slid into the seat beside me.
I tried to keep my eyes fixed straight ahead, but it was useless.
My gaze ached to look at her. Like if I could just see her properly, confirm she wasn’t as bad as she looked, then maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe she wasn’t a storm at all.
She didn’t say anything as she closed the door behind her.
I didn’t either. Once it shut, I adjusted the seat, briefly wondering how she could ever sit so close to the steering wheel.
As I pulled the seatbelt across my chest, habit made me glance over at her.
Maybe I expected her to be looking at me the way she always had before, like she was waiting for something from me.
But she wasn’t. She just stared straight ahead, her expression distant and unreadable.
“Put your seatbelt on,” I said, my voice softer than it had been earlier. She shook her head slightly, like she was debating telling me off again, but then she clipped it into place without a word.
Levi and Cherry were long gone, and Blair’s old headlights were the only light cutting through the darkness as I pulled onto the road.
The glow felt dull, insufficient, like it couldn’t quite reach far enough ahead of us.
All the ease we used to share, the comfort, the unspoken understanding, was gone.
In its place sat a thick, suffocating tension.
And it wasn’t coming from just one of us.
My breathing finally began to steady now that I knew she wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere.
When Holden had called me, it had felt like all the air had been ripped from my lungs at once.
Truthfully, there hadn’t been much breath in them for days.
The panic attacks had been constant since that night.
I knew what they were now. Seren had told me.
But I hadn’t expected what I told Blair to affect her like this.
I could smell the beer on her breath. Her head looked heavy, her posture slack in a way that didn’t fit her.
None of this made sense. This wasn’t something Blair would do.
I wanted to tell her she couldn’t do this.
That she had to keep herself safe, because if she didn’t, I couldn’t breathe thinking about what might happen to her.
“Holden was really worried about you, Blair,” I said finally, the silence gnawing at me.
She didn’t look at me. Her eyes stayed fixed on the darkness streaking past the window.
“He didn’t know what to think,” I continued, searching for something—anything.
“He said you’ve never done anything like this before. ”
Still nothing. “You should try to keep your phone on you,” I added quietly, giving up on getting a reaction. “So he doesn’t have to panic.” I didn’t say that I’d been panicking too.
She let out a sharp, sarcastic snort. “Don’t kid yourself. Holden wasn’t worried about me. Holden doesn’t worry about anyone except himself. He doesn’t care about me.”
I flinched at the tone. I expected anger when she talked about me. I didn’t expect this when she talked about him. She had always spoken about Holden with love, even when it hurt.
“He does care about you, Blair,” I said, a frown pulling at my mouth. “We all do.”
She laughed again, this time exasperated and raw. “Sure. Tell me, Austin, since you seem to know everything. Why should I give Holden an ounce of peace when he’s never given me any in return?”
“Blair, you know it’s more complicated than that,” I said carefully. “Holden is an addict. He… loves you, even when he can’t think about what he’s doing to you. It’s his brain. The chemicals override everything. Even if it were life or—”
“Death?” she cut in sharply. She laughed again, hollow and bitter. “Yeah. I’m aware. I know all about Holden and death. Maybe next time he should just let it happen so the rest of us can get back to our lives.”
Her words detonated in the car, violent and sudden.
I felt them slam into my chest, over and over again, until I could barely think.
My eyes darted between her and the road, half-expecting her to take them back.
She didn’t. Her eyes looked even sadder than they had earlier, darker somehow.
She hated herself for saying it. I could see it.
She knew it too. She just wouldn’t admit it.
Even through the shock, I could feel the pain dripping from her words.
You didn’t have to look hard to see it. She was hurting.
Desperately. I just didn’t understand why.
“Blair,” I said finally, my voice quieter now.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” I had to pause because my voice cracked despite myself.
“I know what I told you about my past hurt you,” I continued.
“But… did something else happen? Something you’re not telling me?
” She stayed silent, so I pressed on. “You’ve never spoken about Holden like that. ”
“Like what?” she shot back. Her voice was sharp, but the pain underneath it rang clear. “Like I’m not made of sunshine and yellow roses or whatever the hell you thought I was? Like I’m not the peace you thought I was?”
She threw my own words back at me. You’re like peace, Yellow.
“Did you ever consider, Austin, that I never really was that person?” she asked. When I finally looked at her, I saw a silent tear slip down her face. “That I was only that person because I was forced to be that person?”
“I never intended to hurt you like this, Blair,” I said quickly, my heart beginning to race as a warning rang through me.
I was stunned. Completely lost. What the hell was happening?
“I wouldn’t have told you if I—” I stopped myself, words tangling in my mouth.
“I don’t know what to say.” I had expected her to walk away from me.
I hadn’t expected her to fall apart while doing it.
“Did you know,” Blair said, turning to look at me, “that not everything revolves around you?” I nearly swerved off the road from the force of wanting to keep my eyes on her face.
“You didn’t do anything to me,” she continued, her voice terrifyingly calm despite the tears still falling.
“You just shifted things into perspective.”
My mind began racing at her words, looping desperately, trying to find their root.
I knew there was one. Her thoughts felt like a dead tree that had grown too tall, starved of oxygen, but even dead trees had roots.
I just couldn’t see them yet. Her house was coming into view.
I wanted to turn the car the other way, buy myself more time, force her to explain what those roots were.
But I couldn’t. I knew I was running out of road.
“What perspective, Blair?” I asked quietly as her house appeared fully in front of us.
She saw it too. I could tell by the breath she let out through her nose.
She didn’t answer. I wanted to slam my fist into the dashboard at her silence.
Her hand was already on the door as I slowed the car to a stop.
She inhaled once more, then turned back to me.
“That there’s no control,” she said simply. “Not for me. And not for anyone else either.” She opened the door and stepped out without another glance back. I sat frozen, her words locking me in place like ice creeping through my veins.
I only let myself stay that way for a few seconds before I forced myself out of the car.
I grabbed the keys, she wouldn’t want to see my face again, but I couldn’t leave them behind.
I made it three steps up her driveway before stopping, watching the scene unfold like it was happening on a screen instead of right in front of me.
“Blair!” Holden’s angry voice rang out from the porch.
“Blair! What the hell?” She shook her head, scanning for a way around him, but there wasn’t one.
She didn’t answer. “Let me see your eyes,” Holden said sharply as he closed the distance between them, already shining the light from his phone into her face.
“Holden, get away from me,” she said, trying to step around him.
“Are you on drugs, Blair?” Holden snapped, his voice rising. “Are you? Tell me the truth. Look at me.” He grabbed her arm. Blair ripped it free instantly.
“Get the hell away from me,” she shot back, raising her voice to match his. That was when Holden noticed me behind her. His eyes locked onto mine, and he moved around her in an instant, charging straight at me.
“Did you put her on fucking drugs?” he yelled, loud enough that I knew anyone nearby could hear. “Did you?” He stopped inches from my face, staring at me like he wanted to hit me. I didn’t blame him.
“No,” I said quickly, raising my hands. “No, man. She’s not on drugs. She’s never done them.”
“You swear?” Holden asked, his voice still sharp, but something in him faltered.
“Yes,” I said, lowering my voice. “I swear. And I’m not involved in that shit anymore.”
“See what I mean?” Blair laughed from behind us. I turned just in time to see her shaking her head, the laugh twisted and bitter. “Holden’s so fucking self-centered he can’t even imagine someone staying out all night without being addicted to drugs,” she said. “That’s how his brain works.”
Holden’s face fell completely. Like me, he was trying to understand who this person was, because it certainly wasn’t the Blair we both knew.
“Isn’t that what they call a narcissist?” she continued. “Hm? Holden, are you a fucking narcissist?” She stepped forward, undeterred. “You just expect everyone to do exactly what you do,” she said. “Guess what. I’m not a lot of things, but at least I’m smarter than you’ll ever be.”
“What the…” Holden muttered, quietly enough that only I could hear him.
“Listen,” I whispered, keeping my voice low, intent on making sure Blair didn’t catch a single word. “Something’s going on with her, okay? Something real. You need to watch her.”
Holden locked eyes with me, searching my face like he was trying to decide whether I was overreacting or terrified for a reason.
I didn’t look away. I didn’t soften it. I let him see exactly how serious I was.
He nodded once. I pressed Blair’s key into his hand.
He turned and walked back toward her, where she was swaying slightly, unsteady on her feet.
When he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she tried to shove it away, irritation flashing across her face. He didn’t let go.
I held my breath as I watched him guide her inside, only releasing it once the door closed behind them.
Then I turned back toward the road, my hands shaking as I pulled my phone out and texted Levi to come get me.
My head felt like it was going to split open, the images of the last hour looping relentlessly through my mind, her face, her words, the way something had shifted so suddenly and completely.
I had once compared Yellow to the sun. I think I was wrong. Maybe Blair was never the sun at all. She wasn’t a burning force casting light outward, warming everyone around her just by existing.
Maybe Blair was the moon—only ever reflecting the light she was given.
The problem was that I was caught in her gravity all the same.