Chapter 18
My eyes shot open like my skin was on fire.
Of course, it wasn’t. My skin was perfectly fine, comfortably tucked between my sheets and my blanket. My body was still. It was resting. My mind, on the other hand, wasn’t.
It felt like my mind had been replaying the night while my body slept.
It moved through my conversations with Cherry, through the theft of the beer that made me drunk.
It replayed her words as we sat on the damp grass.
It replayed the way my chest tightened when I saw Austin.
It felt like weeks had passed since I’d last seen him, not days.
I remembered what he said to me while he drove me home.
But the thing that jolted me awake, sharp and sudden like a gunshot, wasn’t anyone else’s words.
They were mine. Death? Yeah, I know all about Holden and death.
Maybe next time he should just let it happen.
My own words warped in my mind, repeating over and over.
My stomach clenched immediately, and I knew why.
Guilt came fast, violent in its certainty.
My body moved before I gave it permission.
I threw the blankets aside and got out of bed, those words melting into everything I thought.
I crossed the hall without hesitation, my breath held as I opened Holden’s closed door.
I held my breath because until I saw him alive, the knowledge that I had wished for his death threatened to tear me apart.
As if I were a witch, as if my words had cast a spell that could have come true, I couldn’t breathe.
But I wasn’t a witch. I wasn’t a prophet either.
I realized that as Holden’s door swung open and hit the wall with a soft thump.
Holden wasn’t dead. Not yet, anyway. Seeing him breathe didn’t make me leave.
I stayed there, silent, just looking at him.
And the guilt deepened, because I knew my new perspective wasn’t the sole reason that thought existed.
It hadn’t appeared for the first time last night.
It had come after the second overdose. Or maybe the third.
Looking back now, it all blurred together.
I hadn’t just thought it then. I had said it out loud. To Lucy.
Would it be easier? I had asked her. Would it be easier if he died?
Not just for me, or for my parents, but for Holden.
Would it be easier for Holden? He’s tired, I told her.
I can see it on his face. I can see it in his eyes.
He’s tired of living like this. He’s tired of the way his brain only wants the thing that’s killing him. Maybe this way he could finally rest.
Maybe it would be easier, Lucy had said in the steady, comforting voice she always used. Maybe death would be the easiest outcome for all of you. But that doesn’t mean Holden should stop fighting, Blair. And it doesn’t mean you should stop fighting either.
Fighting for Holden? I had asked her, and she shook her head.
Fighting for yourself.
“Blair?” Holden’s groggy voice pulled me back into the present. I gave a small shake of my head, forcing my eyes to focus. He was propped up against his pillows now, rubbing at his eyes as he looked at me with confusion and the faint edge of alarm. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What happened?”
I didn’t answer. I just stared at him while Lucy’s words echoed faintly in the back of my mind, years old but still sharp.
“What happened?” Holden repeated, his voice tightening with concern.
What happened? You did.
“I was just making sure you weren’t dead,” I said flatly, already knowing that answer would only create more questions.
“What?” Holden asked, still half asleep, his face creased with confusion.
I didn’t explain. I turned on my heel instead, preparing to walk away.
“Blair.” Something in his voice stopped me.
Not force. Not anger. Something softer. I turned slowly, cautiously, unsure of what I would find.
Holden was sitting upright now, the blankets pushed away.
He looked at me the same way he had the night before, but without the panic, without the anger. What replaced it was worse. Love.
“What?” My voice sounded mechanical, stripped of inflection, like it didn’t belong to me anymore.
“Come sit,” he said, patting the bed beside him.
I glanced at it for half a second before shaking my head, rooting my feet to the floor.
Holden sighed and shook his head too, mirroring me without realizing it.
“What happened last night?” he asked, his tone slipping into something parental that almost made me laugh.
“What are you, Mom and Dad now?” I muttered under my breath.
“No,” Holden said quickly. “I’m your brother. So please tell me what happened.”
“Nothing happened,” I shrugged. “I was having fun with Cherry. You’re the one who freaked out, then freaked Mom and Dad out, and then called Austin. Which you had no right to do.”
“What’s going on with you and Austin?” Holden asked, like the question had been waiting on his tongue.
“Nothing,” I said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t hear the lie in my voice.
“You broke up?” His eyebrow lifted slightly.
“We were never dating.” It wasn’t a lie.
Not really. Nothing had ever been official.
It had been a rush of emotion and gravity and heat, but no labels.
Still, it felt like one. Because whatever it was, it hadn’t ended gently.
It hadn’t faded. It had split the ground open beneath me and left me standing there, trying to remember how to balance when everything solid was suddenly gone.
“Are you sure about that?” Holden asked, studying my face like he already knew the answer.
“Yes,” I challenged him, because lying to Holden had always been easier than telling him the truth. What he said next stripped that confidence away in a single breath.
“He told me he’s in love with you.” Holden didn’t look away when he said it. His eyes stayed locked on mine, like he was watching for the moment it hit. And it did.
The words slammed into my chest like a wall I hadn’t seen coming.
Except it didn’t feel solid. It felt like clouds.
Soft, disorienting, impossible to brace against. I couldn’t tell if they were harmless or charged with lightning, waiting to split open.
I heard Austin’s voice in my head, clear as if he were standing in the room with us.
I always planned on falling in love with you.
Planned. Not am. Planned, like it was a future tense.
Like it was an intention, not a confession.
“Blair?” Holden said, pulling me back into the room.
“We’re not…” I swallowed, words slipping away from me. “I don’t know, Holden. We’re not talking right now.”
“You’re acting weird,” he said, his eyebrow lifting again. “Not just about Austin. Cherry called me last night. After you went to sleep.” My brows pulled together instinctively. Traitor. Then again… I couldn’t really blame her. Could I?
“How about you, and Cherry, and Austin all stay out of my business,” I snapped, before shaking my head and correcting myself. “Actually—no. Cherry can stay in my business. She’s earned that. Not Austin. And definitely not you.”
“Why?” Holden asked, and there was no defensiveness in his voice. Just worry.
“Because Cherry’s never hurt me,” I said simply.
Holden sighed, long and heavy. “Blair, I—”
I raised my hand, cutting him off. “No. I came in here to see if you were still breathing, because you’ve kept me in suspense about that my entire life.” I took a step back toward the door. “You are,” I added flatly. “So I’m leaving.”
And again, I turned to leave his room, but he spoke before I could. “I know you’re not eating.”
My body went rigid, like I’d been caught in the beam of a spotlight. My mind immediately began cycling through the lies I knew by heart, lining them up, ready to choose the one that would work. I turned back toward him, searching his face for clues about which lie I’d need.
“I—” He didn’t let me finish.
“Oh, save it, Blair,” Holden said, his voice sharp but steady.
“We’re twins. The same way you always know when something’s wrong with me, I know when something’s wrong with you.
You’ve barely eaten in three days. I can see it all over your face at dinner.
I can see the disgust in your eyes when you look at breakfast.” I didn’t respond.
I just waited. My jaw locked so tightly I was afraid my teeth might crack.
“I asked Cherry if she’s seen you eat,” he continued, and heat surged through my veins. “She said no.”
I looked at him then and saw the clarity in his eyes. The kind that told me lying wouldn’t work. Not this time. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. We just stared at each other, the air between us thick and dangerous. When I finally broke the silence, it was my words that caught him off guard.
“Even if you’re right,” I said evenly, “what exactly do you plan on doing about it, Holden?”
“What?” His voice rose. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad. You—”
I cut him off. “You’ll tell Mom and Dad? And what, exactly, are they supposed to do?” His eyes widened. He hadn’t thought this far ahead.
“They’ll get you help,” he said quickly. “You can go into a program. Like last time.”
“Oh,” I nodded slowly. “Like last time? You mean before you bankrupted them with rehab stays you never committed to?”
He looked like I’d struck him. For half a second, I felt a flicker of guilt. But I didn’t stop—because if I did, they would make me stop. And I didn’t want to stop. It was the only control I had left.
“If they couldn’t afford to keep you in rehab,” I continued calmly, “how exactly do you expect them to pay for mine?”
“I…” His voice faltered, trailing off into nothing.
“So not only would you be telling them a lie,” I said, never breaking eye contact, “but you’d be worrying them for no reason. And putting them into even more debt.”