35. I knew deep down
35
I KNEW DEEP DOWN
HALLE
I’m staring at the empty space next to me. A folded piece of paper torn from my book rests on the pillow where Asher’s head should be. For a moment, I try to convince myself that he’s out on his run, or maybe in the kitchen making breakfast. But the sinking feeling I have in my gut, the nervous energy that claws at me, tells me something isn’t right.
Plucking the paper from the pillow, I turn it over, my fingers running over the jagged edges where it was torn. A dull, throbbing ache pounds behind my eyes. Nausea slowly turns in my stomach, and my limbs feel heavy as if a bus has come and parked on top of me. It takes everything I have to drag myself into a sitting position. The room spins around me, my face flushes hot, and I’m forced to close my eyes from the dizziness that hits me. I bury my head in my palms, breathing deeply, trying to fight through the onslaught of the hangover I’ve found myself in.
Groaning into my palms, flashes of last night assault my mind, making me wince at the memories. Too much, too fast, too hard to handle all at once. Everything came crashing down, the years of pain I’ve carried finally crumbling.
Guilt twists in my chest. I need to apologize. To everyone. To Hunter the most because he lost his Mom too, and instead of leaning on him, instead of being strong together, I snapped. I broke down, torn to shreds with the memory of finding her, lifeless in the shower.
A tear slips down my cheek, warm against my skin, and I quickly wipe it away. I need to pull myself together. I need to shower. I need to find Asher. He stayed with me all night and held me through it all. He was my anchor. I need to thank him for saving me from the depths of my own personal hell, for giving me a safe place to feel it all.
Forcing myself to pull my hands away, I eye the folded piece of paper. That sinking feeling in my gut deepens, and I know that whatever it says will change everything. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, the paper crackling as I unfold it, flattening it out over my knee.
Dear Halle,
I’m sorry for all of the pain I have caused you.
I told you the story of how Aiden died. I told you it was a deal gone wrong, but there were details I left out, and when you so bravely told me your story last night, everything clicked into place. Hunter and I knew there was a possibility that the towns we came from were the same. We knew, but we didn’t go in search of the answer. We wanted to leave our pasts where they belonged. But it seems mine has caught up to me.
Our stories are connected, sweetheart. Your mom bought those pills from Aiden and me.
I killed your mom, and I am so sorry.
The money we took from her wasn’t enough to cover what we owed. Aiden was shot to settle that debt, and two days later, your mom had chosen to overdose. I should have connected it sooner. You have her eyes. They’re the same blue, but where yours a sad and gray, hers were haunted and pale.
I live with so much guilt, Halle, and it’s going to tear me apart. It’ll tear you apart, and you have worked so hard to find your place here, to finally have the family you always deserved. I won’t take that away from you. I won’t take any more from you.
Please don’t come after me, sweetheart. Don’t wait for me.
Live your life, be happy, lean on Hunter, and chase your dreams.
I am so sorry,
Ash.
I can’t breathe. My lungs tighten as my eyes trace the uneven lines of his small handwriting. Wet dots appear, smudging the ink as they fall onto the torn paper. Drop after drop, blurring the lines together.
Please don’t come after me, sweetheart. Don’t wait for me.
He left. I can feel it, the ache in my chest as another hole opens, the edges pulsing, aching in ways I’ve never known. How could he leave? He didn’t kill Mom. He didn’t. She did. She chose to take the pills, chose to buy them. It was her decision to do what she did, not his.
“Oh god.”
The words spill out as a cry breaks free, and my hands fly to my mouth, too late to stop the sound. He ran, but he shouldn’t have. He should have stayed. We are stronger together.
My door swings open, slamming against the wall, and I flinch, the sudden bang ringing straight through my pounding head. Hunter stands there, his shoulder tense, a letter of his own hanging by his fingertips, his eyes full of hurt. We don’t move, the space between us feeling heavier by the second. His gaze flicks to the letter resting on my knee, and the muscle in his jaw ticks. There’s an unspoken question hanging between us: Why did he leave?
Hunter steps forward, but just as he reaches the edge of my bed, Madi barges through, her hair piled into a messy nest, sleep shorts twisted, and her shirt on backward. She doesn’t seem to care or even glance at Hunter. Without a word, she crawls up the bed, wrapping her arms around me in a hug that feels so familiar, so much like Mom’s, that something inside me cracks.
I let the emotions free, my head falls forward, burying into her shoulder, and as the tears come in uncontrollably, another set of arms wrap around me.
“We’ve got you, girl,” Tess murmurs in my ear.
Lifting my head slowly, my gaze finds Hunter through the blur of tears. Standing there, his eyes soften, and a sad smile tugs at his lips as he mouths the words carefully, I’ll be in the kitchen . There’s too much happening, too many emotions. The room is still spinning, and my head is still throbbing. But I know he needs me because his best friend just left him too. When I give a small nod, he turns silently and slips out of the room.
“So,” Connor finally breaks the silence, his voice cutting through the awkwardly quiet room, “how are we gonna get our boy back?”
We’ve been sitting around the kitchen for what feels like hours now. After I managed to shower and pull myself together, I found Hunter out here, hunched over the table, the letter still in his hands. He kept reading it, over and over. I didn’t ask what it said, and he didn’t ask about mine. We didn’t need to. We both knew they were similar, that they were goodbye letters. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into a hug. It was a hug that said I’m here for you too.
Not long after, the girls joined us, and then Connor and Jace walked in with trays of coffee and breakfast wraps in hand. The smell of fresh bacon and coffee turned the inside of my stomach with both hunger and nausea.
We ate in silence and drank our coffees, the sweet taste doing nothing to revive me. I waited until the trembling in my hands had eased and my leg had stopped tapping, until I was sure I could speak without breaking. And then I told them everything.
I spoke of the night I found Mom, my gaze never leaving Hunter. I needed him to understand what I had been through, and with every word, I watched a little more of him crumble, the pain in his eyes cutting into me. He stood abruptly, his chair falling back, and he hugged me so fiercely I couldn’t breathe. When we finally pulled apart, I took a shaky breath and kept going.
I told them about Aiden and how our events were intertwined in ways none of us wanted to believe. I told them about Asher and how he had made mistakes, ones that he’s paid for greatly. I told them how I knew deep down that he wasn’t at fault, that what our mom chose to do was on her and her only.
“We are his family, and we don’t give up on family,” I said.
I looked around the room, my chest tight with worry, but when my eyes met Hunter’s, all I could see was pride. The girls were wiping their tears, and I sat back, sighing in relief.
Connor’s words hang in the air, and I stare down at my phone, my thumb hovering over the last messages I sent.
Me: Asher, please come back.
Me: It wasn’t your fault.
Me: I love you.
We’ve all tried calling and texting. Connor even blew up the group chat in hopes that he would finally answer. But his silence is deafening, and with every second that passes, I lose a little bit of hope.
“Hunter,” Madi says, her gaze locked on him, “you knew Ash better than anyone here. Do you have any ideas at all?”
Hunter looks away, his jaw tightening and his temples pulsing as his hands rake through his hair in frustration. There’s a storm raging inside him. I can feel it, the same way I always could when I was a kid. When he would panic and yell at me to climb down the tree faster. How he would frantically grab my hand, saying we had to go finish the chores before Ray got home.
“Hunter?” I question. “Please.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, his shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. “I’ll have to pack a bag.”
Relief floods through me, untangling the knot in my stomach. My lip begins to tremble, the tension in my chest easing as my thoughts start to slow down. Everything’s going to be okay.
Jace leans over, clapping him on the back. “Want me to come with? I can get one of the guys to take the lead on the job site,” he offers.
A flicker of gratitude crosses Hunter’s face before he stands. “I think this is something I’ll have to do on my own,” he says quietly, looking around the room with a sad smile tugging at his mouth.
Jace nods in silent understanding, and Connor stands, his expression serious and supportive. “We’ll hold it down here for you,” he says.
Hunter sighs in relief. “Thanks, man.”
Turning his attention to me, and with a small motion of his head, he gestures to the front of the house. I rise from my seat, taking my coffee with me, and follow him outside. There’s a cooler breeze in the air today, a welcome change to the heat we’ve had these last few months, and as we settle on the top step of the porch, I allow myself to wonder what a winter in Sunlit Cove would feel like. Would the wind carry a sharper edge, the mornings covered in mist? Would the creeks run fuller, would the sound of rain and rushing water echo through the sleepy town?
The street stretches out in front of us, quiet and still, but my eyes drift to the empty space where Asher’s truck should be. The ache in my chest burns at the reminder of why we are out here.
I take a long sip of my coffee as Hunter sits next to me, his elbows resting on his knees as he rubs at his temples.
“He’s gone back,” Hunter finally says, his voice cautious.
Turning my head, I look at him, searching his face to find hesitation there, his lips pressed into a thin line as he thinks of his next words.
“I haven’t been back since I left,” he admits, tilting his head and offering me a small, bittersweet smile, “but I’ll go back for him. You’re right, Hals, we don’t give up on family.”
I rest my head on his shoulder, understanding the weight of his words and what this means for him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Stop saying sorry, Halle. I need to do this. It’s time. Just…” he pauses, the silence heavy as he exhales a long breath, “I don’t know how long I’ll stay. Can you… Can you look after Madi for me?”
There’s a crack in his voice, a whisper of pain laced with a longing I don’t quite understand. But I don’t question him. Not after everything he’s done for me this summer. He helped me turn my life around and gave me a real family when I thought I didn’t have one. I’ll always be grateful that he answered my call, and that he never stopped being my brother.
“You know I will,” I say.