Chapter 19
The only thought that ripped through my mind as I burst into the chilling night air was that I should have put on my slippers.
I pushed through the door and ran as fast as my feet would carry me.
My bare soles slammed against the rough stones of the driveway, sharp and unforgiving, but I didn’t let the pain slow me down.
My legs felt strangely slow, like they were moving through water instead of air.
For a second, my foot slipped on the gravel, my ankle buckling hard enough to send a sharp pulse up my calf.
I barely noticed. I didn’t have time to notice.
The desperation of the moment fueled my legs.
The pain fueled my lungs. But the panic, it was the sharpest thing of all, and it was fueling my blood.
The panic was all-consuming as I raced toward my car, parked in the same place it always was.
A fleeting surge of gratitude flashed through me when I remembered I’d left my keys in the cup holder.
It was a bad habit, one my parents always warned would end in heartbreak someday.
But today, it wasn’t a mistake. Today, it was my salvation.
My hands were shaking as I yanked the door open.
I threw myself into the driver’s seat like the car was a lifeboat, like it was the only thing that could save me.
But I think I knew even then that it was a lie, and that was why the panic felt so unbearable.
Now that everyone knew, there was nothing that could save me.
Holden knew. My parents knew. Cherry knew. And Austin knew too.
My stomach lurched with a sick mix of betrayal and shame as his face flashed through my mind, the way his features had twisted when Holden said the words.
I shook my head hard, trying to dislodge the image.
I reminded myself I needed to move quickly.
I had no doubt that Holden, or Cherry, or even Austin would be only steps behind me.
I didn’t bother with my seatbelt. I didn’t have time for things like that.
I turned the engine over and pulled onto the road.
Once the car was moving, once I knew they couldn’t reach me anymore, I risked a glance back at the house.
I expected to see them chasing after me, or at least standing there, watching my taillights disappear.
But no one was there. The front door was already closed.
My face fell as I turned back toward the road, confusion cutting through the panic.
I took a shaky breath as the realization settled over me.
They hadn’t followed. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel.
Maybe relief. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
I wanted them out of my business so I could do what I needed to do.
So I could have control. No. It wasn’t just what I wanted. I needed it.
I dragged in a deeper breath, forcing oxygen into my lungs as I focused on the dark stretch of road ahead.
My mind felt painfully full, so crowded it hurt.
The pressure built behind my temples, tightening the muscles beneath my skin until my jaw ached with tension.
I didn’t have a destination. I barely registered what was in front of me, and even though I knew somewhere deep down that it wasn’t safe to be driving like this, I didn’t care.
Not right now. Right now, I cared about one thing.
They were going to take away my control.
It felt cruel. Didn’t they realize that? Didn’t they see how cruel it was? It was the only thing I had left. The only thing in my life that made sense to me. They wanted to strip that understanding away, to rip control from my hands and from my mind. They didn’t understand. They never would.
So I wasn’t surprised when I began to recognize the empty stretch of road ahead of me.
I guess even when I could barely recognize myself, I was still predictable.
I barely took the time to make sure the car was completely off the road before slamming it into park.
I threw the door open and launched myself into the night air without stopping to breathe.
My breaths came faster and faster as my feet carried me forward again.
This time, instead of hard pavement, damp blades of grass brushed against my bare feet as I ran across the empty field.
The cold tickled my skin, grounding and stinging all at once.
Desperation pooled inside me again, rising higher with every step.
My thighs burned too quickly, the ache blooming deep in my muscles in a way that didn’t match how fast I was moving.
My vision narrowed at the edges, dark spots flickering in and out like faulty lights.
I forced my legs to keep going anyway. I told myself they were just tired.
I told myself it meant nothing. I needed to reach my destination.
I didn’t know why, only that I did. So I ran faster.
My chest began to tighten, my breath fighting to stay inside my lungs, when I finally reached it.
I forced myself up the hill with the last scraps of energy left in my body.
The ground tilted beneath me, just enough to make my stomach drop.
I grabbed at the grass with one hand, my fingers slipping through the damp blades as my breath stuttered uselessly in my chest. My body felt hollow and heavy at the same time, like it couldn’t decide whether to float or fall.
My legs gave out without warning. I didn’t lower myself to the ground. I hit it.
A small, fleeting sense of calm washed over me as I stared up at the stars.
It didn’t last long, but it was enough. Enough for my body to loosen for a second as thousands of distant lights stared back at me.
I wasn’t sure why I always ended up here when my mind became too heavy to carry.
Usually, it was because the stars brought comfort.
They felt like a substitute for the mountains I carried in my memory.
I couldn’t go to the mountains anymore, but I could come here.
Tonight, though, I wasn’t sure what I was looking for.
I didn’t want perspective. I didn’t want clarity. I didn’t want anything to get better.
I didn’t care that the grass was soaking wet as I let myself fall back completely.
The cold seeped through my shirt, pressing against my skin until I could feel my body again.
It dragged me out of my head and back into something physical, something real.
Even lying still, my heart wouldn’t slow.
It fluttered erratically in my chest, skipping in a way that made me press a hand over it, as if I could steady it through skin alone.
My adrenaline drained all at once. My stomach turned.
My lips pulled into a frown before I even registered the shift inside me.
They trembled, and then my mouth broke open in a sob.
Tears spilled freely down my face, hot and relentless, soaking into my skin.
I tried to breathe. I couldn’t. I only cried.
“Blair.”
I’m sure the only reason I hadn’t heard his footsteps was because my own sobs were too loud to hear anything else.
Anything except his voice, which sliced clean through the night air.
My heart dropped. I turned toward the sound, half-convinced it had to be my imagination.
But the moment my eyes landed on him, I knew it wasn’t.
At this point in our tangled, fractured relationship, I thought I’d seen every version of Austin that existed.
I’d seen him confident and smug. Vulnerable.
Angry. Jealous. Surprised. I’d seen his pain, his pleasure, his love.
I had never seen him like this. He looked as dark as a starless night.
His eyes were glassy—not sharp or bright, not crystalline the way people’s eyes sometimes turn—but empty.
Hollow. He looked at me like something inside him had cracked wide open. Like I had broken him.
I shook my head as our eyes met, panic flooding me all over again.
My hands flew to my face in a desperate attempt to stop the tears.
They didn’t stop. They didn’t even slow.
They felt unstoppable. I moved to stand, whipping my head around as I searched for somewhere else to run.
Anywhere. I wanted to fly again. I wanted to escape this moment, this confrontation, because I didn’t think I could survive it.
Austin spoke before I could push myself off the ground.
“Please don’t. Please, Blair.” I turned back toward him, startled by the sound of his voice.
It was thin with desperation. Almost identical to the way I felt.
“Please,” he whispered, lowering himself to the ground beside me.
“Just… don’t run.” My body stilled. I didn’t know why, but something in me wanted to listen.
“We don’t have to talk,” he said quickly, carefully, like he was afraid of spooking me. “We don’t have to say anything at all. You don’t have to explain yourself. I won’t ask anything of you. Just—” His voice caught. “Just stay, okay? Stay so you’re safe.”
I hesitated, taking one last glance at the empty stretch of darkness around us.
A part of me knew he was right. I wasn’t safe on my own.
I was a danger to myself. So I sank back into the ground, folding in on myself.
I wrapped my arms around my legs and pressed my forehead into my knees, trying to disappear.
My emotions surged again, my chest shuddering as I struggled to breathe.
I tried to quiet my sobs, but I wasn’t sure it worked.