Chapter Thirty-Four
We book it at a full sprint. For a few moments nobody follows us, and I think maybe Michael won’t notice my mom’s gone before we reach the car.
But then there’s a roar of anger and the back door flies open. I toss a glance over my shoulder and yep, it’s my stepfather, gaining on us fast. My heart throbs in my ears.
Khoi is chasing after him. “Sir!” he yells. “Sir, I have more to tell you about Bitcoin!”
He ignores Khoi. Of course the one time I’m praying Michael gets sidetracked by sketchy financial advice, he wises up. “Char, I’m going to kill you, you bitch!” he shouts.
Khoi, like the absolute legend that he is, yanks off his lemon-yellow Croc and chucks it at Michael’s head. And dude’s got shockingly decent aim—it nails him right in the neck. My stepfather whirls around, more from surprise than actual pain.
Then Olive comes tearing round the corner and screeches to a halt in front of us.
I scramble for the door and shove my mother inside, then dive in after her.
“We can’t leave Khoi!” I scream.
Olive slams her foot on the gas pedal and Khoi starts running in the opposite direction, away from Michael. We fly past my confused stepfather and meet Khoi in the middle of the street. He tumbles into the back seat.
I crane my neck to check the rear windshield. There’s Michael, standing in a dim orange pool spilled by the streetlight. His face reminds me of a blinking cursor at the top of a blank file.
Then Olive’s fully in her Fast & Furious era, lunging onto the main road, and I lose sight of him.
I don’t remember how to breathe until we’ve blown past the WELCOME TO CHINOOK SHORE sign at the town limits. Khoi does this shaky half laugh, half sigh.
“You just. You just threw a Croc at my stepfather,” I say.
He shrugs. “Hey, at least now I won’t have to remove it during airport security.”
I dissolve into giggles, more out of relief than anything else.
Step 4: Freedom.
We drive in heavy, stunned silence. Night has fallen. The sky is full bellied with clouds. Few cars pass us by. Flickering gold lights from distant small towns dot the horizon.
At one point, Khoi tries to strike up the same painful small-talk convo with Mom, but quickly clams up after I hit him with a look.
Olive drops us off at the airport. Khoi and Mom hop out of the car but I linger. It feels like I need to say something to my stepsister.
“Thank you,” I say. “You didn’t have to help us.”
“No, I did.” She tries to play it chill, but her eyes betray fear. She’s the one who has to handle Michael afterward. We’ll be jetting off to the opposite coast.
My gut clenches.
“Come with us,” I blurt out. I don’t really know how this would go, since Olive is still a minor. Like, could my mom even get full custody? Whatever—that’s a problem for future us.
She shakes her head. “Char, he’s my father. I’m all he has.” Olive’s mother, his ex-wife, lives in Sicily with her new husband.
“He’s dangerous. If he hurt me and my mom, he can hurt you too.”
“I know. Do you think I don’t know?” For a moment doubt flickers in her face, but then she seems to decide something. Her mouth straightens. Hardens. “I’ll be fine. I’m turning eighteen in two months. And I can crash with Drew. Or maybe I’ll hit up my mom in Italy.”
Something shifts between us, some newfound understanding.
We spent so long ignoring each other that I never saw it until now.
Michael didn’t just happen to my mom and me—he also happened to Olive.
And we’re luckier than her, maybe. At least we can actually ditch him.
Carve him out from our lives like he’s a malignant tumor.
No matter what Olive does, she’ll always be shackled to Michael through blood.
“Take care of yourself,” I say before stepping out. “You can always call me if you need anything.”
She waves at us through the car window. “So I guess… have a nice life?”
It’s weirdly underwhelming, like the ending of some bad Netflix movie. I feel like I should say something profound or poetic. It’s been an honor serving with you stuff, but for a sister.
The only suggestion my brain coughs up is What Disney princess nickname did Drew give you? But bringing up the Mulan crap would kinda ruin the mood. Besides, Olive is totally an Aurora.
I wish I knew more about her.
We spent years living on top of each other, yet we’re basically strangers. It’s a real shame. Why didn’t we try to bridge the gap between us?
But as I watch my stepsister’s taillights wink into the darkness, the answer hits me. The reason, of course, is Michael.
Mom barely says a word during the whole flight and taxi ride to campus. I keep sneaking glances at her, trying to figure out what’s happening in her head, but her face is a blank slate. Meanwhile, Khoi is on high alert, constantly reaching for my hand like he’s scared I’ll go poof.
We finally roll up to Simmons at eight a.m. Khoi crashes in his own room. I show my mother to mine and we both pass out cold.
When I wake, it’s early evening. Golden-hour light filters through the windows, painting a yellow grid on the floor.
Mom is still knocked out, so I tiptoe outside to find Khoi in his room.
He’s awash in the bluish glow of his laptop.
There’s a crease between his brows that only appears when he’s intensely debugging.
And I’ve seen Khoi code a thousand times before, but for some reason, my heart does this stupid little somersault.
“When did you wake up?” I ask.
His eyes dart to my face, then back to his screen. “Not too long ago. I got a notification saying our most recent deployment failed. Throwing some build error…”
I sit. Should we even talk about what went down in Chinook Shore? Maybe now that Khoi has met Michael, now that he has truly seen the Chernobyl-grade meltdown that is my family, he’s ready to bounce.
I want to run far, far away from this ugliness. The thought of Khoi knowing everything makes my stomach churn. He is so pure and kind and sweet and I’m scared to drag him into this chaos.
But I have to say something. I have to let him know that I see it—this enormous gift he’s given me.
“Thank you,” I say. “For buying the flights to Oregon. For standing up to Michael. For helping me with my mom.”
It doesn’t feel like enough. I don’t know how to express my gratitude. I mean, the kid basically saved my life. I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve this boy.
I misjudged him before. He’s soft, but he’s no coward. Khoi freakin’ Astor.
Khoi freakin’ Astor who can’t ever stay in his own damn lane, but maybe that’s one of the best things about him.
He sets his laptop down and turns to me. “Char. I will always be there for you.” His eyes are so wide and sincere.
There’s a familiar swell in my throat.
Nobody has ever told me that before. And I’ve never believed anybody ever would be there for me.
I wish Khoi was less… good. I wish he could say something cruel. I wish he would see everything that is broken within me and nope out. Because at least I would know how to deal with that.
I don’t know how to not ruin this.
I swallow hard. “Tell me more about the error.”