Chapter 22
There was an undercurrent of tension ripping through my house.
It wasn’t so palpable that it consumed every thought in the room.
In fact, to my parents, who were so happy to see me that their smiles stretched wide across their faces, it was probably the last thing on their minds.
Holden could feel it. It sat heavier with him.
Maybe because we were twins, or maybe because he knew where that tension started from.
He had been the one to pick me up from Austin’s house, after all.
The four of us sat together in the living room, and despite that tension floating quietly through the air, there was something stronger than it.
A peaceful relief. We spoke in smiles, laughed in smiles.
It felt gentle, almost fragile. We were all together again, at long last. There was something else we could feel, too.
As if a vague sense of freedom had been released into the room.
The freedom that comes when lies finally lose their grip.
For now, our family was free of the secrets that had grown beneath the foundation, slowly rotting it from the inside out.
Holden’s lies. My lies. Even my parents’ financial ones. They were all exposed now.
And sure, discovering that our base had rotted wasn’t ideal.
But we knew the truth. We could tear away the decay, wash it clean, and lay new lumber down.
We could rebuild—stronger than before. I knew that was easier said than done.
We all did. It was going to be hard work.
For me, staying healthy. For Holden, staying clean.
Backbreaking, painful work. The kind that doesn’t stop hurting just because you want it to.
But there was hope. New hope. It shone through the gray clouds like sunlight breaking on a dreary day.
I hadn’t felt real hope in so long. I’d thought I was destined to live without it. I was wrong. And right now, it felt like the only thing we truly needed.
Still, I was the one most affected by the tension beneath it all.
While my mind clung to this newfound hope, anxiety threaded through it just as tightly.
As the hours passed with my family, the feeling grew harder to ignore.
By dinner, it was pressing against my ribs, sharp and insistent.
I breathed through my nose when the familiar tingling hit my stomach.
Counted to ten. Reminded myself that I had no control over what was happening with Austin.
Or Seren. I had no control even if I knew.
I only had control over my reactions. And right now, any reaction other than being present, here, with my family, didn’t make sense.
“Are you done, Blair?” my mother asked, pulling me back to the moment. She smiled at me like an angel, her hand already reaching for my nearly empty plate. From the warmth in her eyes, I knew she felt the hope too.
I nodded, taking another breath as she carried the plate away.
I let myself notice the victory of that meal, my first away from the program, eaten without counting calories, without fear.
I can do this, I told myself. There was no doubt in my inner voice.
Only hope. And even though hope didn’t come back all at once.
I decided to behave as if it eventually would.
I stayed close to my parents and Holden until the sun disappeared completely. Their love felt like a shield, protecting me from spiraling thoughts about Austin. About his future. His consequences. About ours. Because I knew they were coming. There was no escaping that.
“You okay?” Holden murmured beside me long after our parents had gone to bed. I glanced at him, taking in the exhaustion etched into his face. He looked like someone who had lived a hundred lives in too short a time, especially over the last few weeks.
“Yeah, yeah,” I nodded. “I’m just waiting to hear some news.”
“From Austin?” Holden asked without hesitation. I nodded again, and a small smile crossed his tired face. “Don’t worry too much, Blair. That guy… I don’t know him that well, you know, as a person. But I do know this, he loves you the way you’re supposed to love someone. It’s obvious.”
I smiled at his words, warmth spreading through my chest. Then I looked at him more closely, really looked at him, and noticed again how exhausted he seemed. “Are you okay?”
Holden stayed quiet for a moment before letting out a slow sigh.
“Addiction is so fucked up, Blair, you know?” he said.
“When I was using, and even in between using, I saw how hard everything was for you. For mom and dad too. I saw it, but it was like my mind was too busy to actually process your pain.” I tilted my head as he spoke, watching his eyes drift somewhere far away, foggy with memories he’d lived through but never fully faced.
“And you know,” he continued, “the last time you were battling your eating disorder… I don’t know.
Maybe I was too young. Maybe I was too focused on the drugs.
I still didn’t really see it.” He looked back at me then.
“But this time, I saw it. I felt it. I’ve been in hell this last month worrying about you.
Wondering what to do. Scared you were going to go too far. ”
He exhaled shakily. “You’ve been feeling this way for the last four years?” he asked, his voice so soft it barely sounded like a question. Like he already knew the answer but didn’t want it confirmed.
I pressed my lips together, the emotion warning me not to speak. I nodded instead, feeling the weight of the truth pull my mouth into a frown.
“I’m sorry,” Holden said quietly. “I’m so sorry that I’ve done this to you. I’m sorry, sis. But I don’t think I can ever make it better. I can’t take that pain away from you.” His words hit me like a brick to the chest. Worse—like a truck slamming into me at full speed.
I’d been desperate for those words for so long, and I hadn’t even realized it. Not forgiveness. Not guilt. Just acknowledgement. Him seeing what his addiction had done to me. I would never hold it against him, but hearing him name it was something my soul had been quietly aching for.
“But you can make sure it never happens again,” I whispered, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over. “We both can. We can make sure neither of us ever has to feel this way again.”
Holden held my gaze for a moment, then nodded. “We can try our best. I have a lot of work to do on myself. And so do you. I don’t think our work will ever stop.”
“I don’t think it will ever stop either,” I sighed. He was right. Of course he was. Lucy had told me the same thing so many times, maybe I’d heard her, but I hadn’t truly listened.
Our pain. Our problems. Our addictions. They wouldn’t ever fully disappear.
Holden opened his mouth to speak again, but his words were interrupted by a soft knock at the door, so quiet it felt intentional, like whoever’s fist had touched the wood was acutely aware of the late hour.
The sound startled me at first, before the realization of who it could be dawned on me like a sunrise.
I guess Holden came to the same realization. He let out a small chuckle instead of finishing his sentence, shaking his head slightly. “I’d guess that’s for you. I’ll… I’ll be upstairs, okay? If you need me?”
He looked down at me as he spoke, pushing himself up from the couch across from me.
He waited for my nod, and when I gave it, he headed for the stairs, casting one last glance back at me, and then toward the door, before disappearing upstairs.
I waited until I heard his bedroom door open and close before I stood.
I took a deep breath. The feeling in my chest reminded me of the first time I’d met Austin, nervous, but this wasn’t the same kind of nerves.
These ran deeper, heavier, threaded with worry.
I forced my feet to move calmly toward the door, pausing when I reached it.
I stared at the wood for a second, then shook my head, and my body opened it before my mind fully agreed.
The darkness of the night greeted me instead of Austin’s tall frame.
Confusion pulled my face down as I glanced around the empty porch—until I saw him.
He was sitting on the porch steps, turned just enough to look back at me.
I could barely make out his features in the low light, but I didn’t need to see his face to know how tired he was.
The exhaustion radiating from him was unmistakable.
“Hi,” I spoke first, letting the single word drift softly into the night. It felt like the smallest word that had ever existed, especially compared to all the things I wanted to say to him.
“I thought maybe you’d gone to sleep,” Austin said, and even his voice sounded tired.
“Not yet,” I shrugged, even though I wasn’t sure he could see it in the dark.
I watched as his shadow shifted, as he slowly stood. I held a breath in my chest while he walked toward me, unhurried. There were too many words left unsaid between us, too many to count. I could feel them hovering in the space between us, thick and heavy, like a mist you couldn’t see through.
“Can we talk?” Austin asked. His voice sounded unfamiliar, weighed down by something I couldn’t quite name.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Do you want to come in?” He seemed surprised by the invitation as he stepped into the light spilling faintly from the doorway. Like Holden, I could see the exhaustion etched into his face, and I couldn’t blame him for it.
“Is that okay?” he asked, glancing past me into the house, like he expected my entire family to be standing there.
“We can talk in my room,” I said, keeping my voice gentle, careful not to disturb the tension hanging between us. I knew that once it broke, there were too many things waiting to spill through.
“Okay,” Austin agreed, though the hesitation in his voice matched my own.