✧･Chapter 14 Its Okay To Not Be Okay
"Well, we should probably go over the draft one more time to see if-"
"Go over the draft? No." I cut in, my gaze locking onto the person across the table. "We've gone over it more than enough. I can already point out multiple issues, and you know damn well we are not putting something like this out under our name."
The room goes still. It's already six, and this meeting has dragged on for over an hour and I was done with it thirty minutes ago.
"Who wrote this?" I ask, my voice quieter now, controlled in a way that makes people sit straighter instead of relax. No one answers immediately and someone clears their throat.
"Adam. It's his first week."
I lean back in my chair, studying the paper in front of me for a beat longer than necessary.
"I don't think Adam should be writing public statements if this is what he considers his best work."
"Claire."
Every head turns toward the boardroom door. Helena stands there, composed as ever, but the look she gives me is pointed - sharp enough to pull me back just a fraction.
"Everyone, it's getting late," she says. "We'll continue in the morning. No one touch the draft, I'll handle it."
Chairs scrape softly against the floor as people rush to gather their things, filing out with quiet efficiency.
"William," Helena adds as he passes her, "have Adam shadow you for the next week or so. It's clear he still has a lot to learn, and I'm not interested in him failing his first week."
William nods quickly. "Of course, Mrs. Pierce."
The door closes behind him, leaving the room suddenly, noticeably quieter. I exhale, closing my laptop with more force than necessary.
"Usually I'm the one getting onto everyone," Helena says, a hint of amusement in her voice as she walks further in and takes the seat beside me.
I don't respond and the her tone softens. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything is fine," I mutter, gathering the papers in front of me into a neat stack, pressing them down harder than necessary before setting them on top of my laptop with a heavy sigh.
"June said you left early the other night," Helena says.
My hands still for just a second before continuing and I keep my eyes on the papers, aligning the corners.
"I wasn't feeling good," I answer, short, clipped.
"She said you basically ran out without saying goodbye to anyone."
I pause again, slower this time, my fingers resting flat against the stack. I draw in a breath through my nose before finally looking up at her.
"Like I said," I repeat, quieter now, "I wasn't feeling good."
It sits there between us, thin and unconvincing and I look away first. It's a lie. A bad one at that, but it's easier than saying anything real - easier than even thinking about it.
"Is that also why you're about two seconds away from ripping one of my employees' heads off?" Helena asks, though there's no humor in it.
I let out a small breath, shaking my head as I press my palm against the table.
"I really don't want to talk about it, Helena." My voice tightens despite myself. "I don't even want to think about it. Just... please leave it alone."
The paper slips slightly when I push it back into place, the sound sharper than it should be and Helena watches me for a moment, quieter now.
"It went that bad, huh?"
I frown, glancing back at her. "What?"
"Meeting Mae's mother."
Something in my chest pulls tight. "It went fine, Helena." I say, too quickly.
She huffs out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "It clearly didn't. June said you panicked. She also said Mae freaked out. I don't understand why the two of you can't just talk to each other."
I let out a laugh, sudden and hollow, the sound echoing a little too loudly in the room. "Talk?" I repeat, like the word doesn't quite make sense.
I push my chair back and stand, pacing once before stopping, my hands coming up to drag over my face.
"She doesn't want to talk about it," I say, shaking my head. "She doesn't want to think about it. She made that very fucking clear from day one."
I exhale sharply, my hands dropping, but the words don't stop.
"And you know what the worst part is?" My voice cracks just slightly before I steady it. "I spent six years - six fucking years - thinking it was me."
I look at Helena now, something raw and exposed breaking through.
"Do you understand how that feels? To think you were the problem? That you weren't enough, or you pushed too far, or you ruined something that might've meant something to her?"
I swallow, hard, my jaw tightening. "And now I find out it was never that." I let out a humorless breath. "It's her life. Her family. This... version of herself that I was never going to fit into."
I shake my head again, pacing once more before stopping, my voice dropping lower.
"I was never going to be chosen," I admit, quieter now, like it's being dragged out of me piece by piece. "I was never going to fit into her life, or be accepted into it."
My chest tightens, and I let out a slow breath that doesn't help.
"I just..." I trail off, pressing my lips together before forcing the rest out. "I just wish she would've had the decency to tell me that herself."
My voice sharpens again despite the exhaustion sitting underneath it.
"Instead of me having to stand there, meet her mother, and pretend like I'm not in love with her daughter."
The words hang there, thick and suffocating and before I can stop it, I turn away from her.
My eyes squeeze shut, hard, like if I press them tight enough it'll hold everything in place.
My jaw clenches, my lips pressing together as I drag in a slow breath through my nose - but it doesn't steady anything.
It just makes the tightness in my chest worse.
I swallow, forcing my shoulders to stay still, forcing my breathing to even out, but it comes out uneven anyway, shaky on the exhale.
I refuse to let it happen, not here.
I hear Helena move behind me, the soft scrape of her chair, the quiet, deliberate sound of her standing, but she doesn't say anything.
Of course she doesn't and that alone almost makes it worse. I press the heel of my hand briefly against my mouth, dragging it down as I try to pull myself back together, blinking rapidly.
A hand settles gently on my shoulder and I go still. For a second, I don't move, don't turn, I just stand there with her hand resting there, grounding and warm and far too understanding.
Then I let out a slow breath and open my eyes. When I turn around, it's slower than it should be, like something in me is resisting it, like if I face her it'll make all of this real.
But the second I do, she's already there. Helena doesn't say a word, she just pulls me in.
And I let her.
My body gives before my mind can catch up, my hands coming up automatically, gripping onto her like I need something to hold me upright. The second the space between us disappears, something in my chest loosens... just enough to hurt.
I don't break though, and I don't fall apart. But my eyes shut again, my face pressing briefly against her shoulder as I take in a breath that finally, finally, fills my lungs.
My grip tightens for just a second before I force it to ease, like I'm catching myself needing it too much. I exhale slowly, my voice low when I manage it, a little rough around the edges.
"I'm okay."
It's softer this time, less convincing. But I don't pull away.
"It's okay to not be okay, Claire," Helena whispers, her hand coming up to cup the back of my neck, holding me there, not forcefully, but enough that I feel it. Enough that my body registers the comfort before my mind can argue against it.
I inhale shakily, forcing the tears back before they can fall. I can't do that here, iI won't. But it's getting harder.
After all this time - after everything - nothing has ever hurt quite like this. Not like walking away from Mae. Not like knowing I have to let her go, not because I want to, but because I have to. For her, for me.
Because loving her was never the problem, it was everything around her that was.
I don't even know how. How am I supposed to just let her go?
How do you take something that's been a part of you for years... woven into every version of who you are, and just... cut it out?
She's everywhere. In everything.
In the way I still reach for my phone when something happens, like she's the first person I should tell.
In the quiet moments at night when everything slows down and my mind betrays me, replaying her laugh, the way she looks at me when she forgets herself for just a second too long.
In the spaces she's been in, the conversations that somehow always circle back to her name, even when no one says it out loud.
She's in the art on my walls. The pieces I told myself I bought because I admired the work, not because they were hers. She's in the things I don't say. The restraint, the constant and exhausting effort of pretending I feel less than I do.
Everywhere.
It's pathetic. I know it is... the way I let myself get this consumed, this attached to something that was never really mine to begin with.
But it doesn't make it any less real. Doesn't make it any easier to breathe around it.
Because the truth is, I never learned how to love her halfway, and now I'm supposed to learn how to not love her at all.
The sharp ring of my phone cuts through the silence, loud and jarring against everything sitting heavy in my chest. Neither of us move at first. I let it ring out, my face still pressed near her shoulder, my breathing not quite steady.
Then it starts again.
I pull back this time, slower, dragging in a breath as I turn toward the table. My eyes land on my phone, my stomach dropping when I see Hallie's name lighting up the screen.
I grab it quickly, bringing it to my ear. "Yeah, Hallie?" The sharpness in my voice isn't intentional, but I don't have time to soften it.
"Claire, you need to get to the hospital downtown." Her voice cracks halfway through, like she's already been crying, like she's barely holding it together.
Everything in me goes still.
"What?" My heart kicks hard against my ribs, fast and uneven. "Why? What's going on?"
I don't wait for an answer before moving, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I start gathering my things - laptop, papers, anything within reach, my movements suddenly rushed and uncoordinated.
"It's Grandma," Hallie says, her voice breaking again. "She had a really bad fall a few days ago. I just found out an hour ago, I couldn't get ahold of her, so I called Mom, and she told me-"
"What?" The word snaps out of me, sharper this time, anger lacing through the panic before I can stop it. "A few days ago? How are we just now finding out?"
Of course.
Of course it comes back to that. We're never the first call. Never the ones who get told things when they happen. Always after. Always when it's already too late to do anything but react.
Not important enough, not close enough, never chosen.
My grip tightens around the edge of my laptop as something hot and furious twists in my chest.
"Just-" I cut myself off, dragging in a breath that doesn't steady anything. "Just stay there, Hallie. I'm leaving right now. I'll get there as fast as I can."
I don't wait for a response before pulling the phone away, already moving toward the door.
"Claire, what's happening?" Helena asks, following close behind me as I push out of the boardroom, my pace quick and uneven.
"It's my grandma," I say, the words coming out tight, controlled in a way that barely holds. "She fell. Days ago, and we're just now finding out."
I don't slow down as I head straight for my office, grabbing my bag with one hand and shoving papers inside without care.
"I'm coming with you," Helena says immediately.
"No." The answer is automatic, firm, not even a second of hesitation as I shake my head, already moving again. "No, I just... I need to go."
I sling my bag over my shoulder, barely registering anything else as everything narrows down to one single, overwhelming thought.
I need to get to her, now.
"I'll call you," I add quickly, already halfway out the door. "I just, I have to go."