Chapter 6
No one spoke.
The room felt different now—not shaken, not chaotic, but occupied. It was as if something had slipped in and taken a seat. Erica could still feel her sister’s name vibrating in her chest, the way a struck bell keeps ringing long after your hand leaves it.
Joslyn is here.
The thought should have brought relief. Instead, it made Erica’s skin prickle. The air felt thinner, as though stretched by too many unseen breaths. The candles burned steadily, their flames standing tall and calm.
It reminded Erica of the moments after an argument, when the yelling stops but nothing has actually been fixed.
No one laughed. No one reached for their wine. They all seemed to sense the same thing. The moment hadn’t ended. It had only just begun.
Elias’s head tilted, his gaze lifting to a point just above and to the right of Erica. His eyes tracked something unseen, following it with careful precision, like he was afraid a sudden movement might make it vanish.
His jaw tightened. Then his eyes flicked sideways. Whatever he saw there made his shoulders tense. His breathing went shallow, and a faint sheen of sweat broke across his forehead. For a moment, his attention scattered, pulled in too many directions at once.
“No,” he murmured.
The word wasn’t meant for any of them.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, deliberate breath. When he opened them again, his focus snapped back to that same spot near Erica. It was steadier now and locked in.
His hands trembled where they rested on his knees.
“There you are,” he said.
Erica’s breath caught.
Hearing her sister acknowledged—not named yet, just recognized—felt like a door opening inside her chest.
Elias swallowed. “She’s close,” he said, voice tight. “Very close.”
Erica nodded, though she wasn’t sure why. Her body answered before her thoughts could.
Elias finally looked at her. “Do you have a question for Joslyn?”
Her throat closed. She’d imagined this moment, fantasized about it even. Late at night, when the condo was quiet, her thoughts would slip out of formation. In those imagined conversations, her sister was always patient and always waiting.
She swallowed. When she spoke, her voice came out broken. “Do you . . . do you forgive me?”
The room went still. Elias didn’t answer right away. His brow furrowed, lips slightly parting, like he was straining to hear something just out of reach.
Then he shook his head. “No,” he said.
It landed like a punch. Her breath hitched, an ugly, involuntary sound she couldn’t stop. Tears spilled faster now, hot and humiliating, streaking down her face before she could wipe them away.
Elias inhaled, recentering. “She says—” He paused. “She says there’s nothing to forgive you for.”
Erica let out the sob she’d been holding back for years. It felt violent leaving her; something torn loose rather than released.
“She says,” Elias went on, his voice careful and precise, “that what you tell yourself every time you think of her . . . it isn’t true.”
Erica nodded, unable to speak.
“Do you understand what that means?” he asked.
She nodded again.
“What do you tell yourself?” Liv whispered.
The question sliced straight through her.
“That it was my fault,” Erica said.
Saying it out loud felt like admitting to a crime.
Liv’s hand flew to her mouth. Zach bowed his head, eyes shining. Even Derek looked stricken. Chad stared at Elias like he was watching a trick he still intended to explain away.
Elias nodded. “She’s repeating it,” he said. “Over and over. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.”
Each repetition landed softer, as if the words were trying to relearn how to exist inside her without hurting.
“This is a joke,” Chad said.
Liv spun toward him. “Knock it off, Chad.”
“No.” He shook his head. “This is sick. It’s obvious Zach filled this guy in. The sister, the guilt.”
“That’s not true,” Zach said, voice tight.
“Bullshit.”
Elias’s breathing changed again, becoming quick and uneven. His shoulders rose and fell. His attention splintered, dragged by something in the room that wasn’t any of them.
“I’m trying to focus,” he muttered. “She’s—”
He stopped, and his eyes snapped open.
“She’s warning me.”
The room froze.
“Us,” he corrected, gaze darting. “Me. And you.”
Erica’s stomach dropped.
“She’s telling me to leave,” Elias said, tilting his head. He pressed two fingers to his left ear as if straining to hear with the other. “Or maybe . . . you to leave.” Confusion sliced through his features. “It’s unclear. There are so many voices now.”
The pressure returned, and the air felt thick and resistant, like pushing through water.
“But hers,” Elias said, his mouth tightening as if he’d tasted something bitter, “hers is cutting through all of them.”
He looked up, eyes wide.
“Leave,” he said.
A chill raced down Erica’s spine.
“Leave,” he repeated.
Beckie let out a weak laugh. “What the fuck?”
Elias’s gaze snapped to her.
“Bad Girl Beckie,” he said.
Her smile vanished.
“Bad Girl Beckie,” he repeated, louder.
Chad scoffed. “This guy’s insane.”
“We should’ve just gone out for drinks,” Beckie muttered.
“Leave,” Elias said again. “Bad Girl Beckie. Leave.”
The ring on the wooden slab burst into flame. A perfect circle of fire bloomed around it, burning with frightening precision. Someone screamed. Erica wasn’t sure if it was her.
Elias slapped his hand down, extinguishing the flame instantly.
He recoiled, gasping, sweat pouring down his face. His chest heaved like he’d run a mile. He stayed hunched, one hand braced against the floor.
“What the hell was that?” Derek whispered.
Elias sucked in a breath. “I—” He wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. “I need a break . . . if I’m going to continue.”
Erica leaned forward. “Was it really her?” she asked. “Was it really my sister?”
Elias met her eyes. Despite the exhaustion and fear still etched into his face, he nodded. He struggled to stand, his movements heavy and unsteady. “Bathroom?”
“Second door on the right,” Erica said, already rising.
“And—” He hesitated. “I’ll take another wine.”
She nodded.
Zach hovered beside her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”
Liv shook her head. “We should call it a night.”
“Yeah,” Derek agreed. “This is . . . a lot.”
“No way,” Chad said. “We’re not stopping now. We gotta make sure Zach gets his money’s worth.”
“I’m not worried about money,” Zach said.
“I’m definitely not participating.” Liv pursed her lips.
“Same,” Derek echoed.
Chad laughed, loud and careless. “Bunch of pussies.” He pushed himself to his feet, swaying just enough to notice. “I’ll go next.”
Erica reached for the wine bottle before she could stop herself. It was habit, reflex, something to do with her hands. She crossed the room and refilled Elias’s glass, stopping just before the rim.
When she straightened, Chad held his glass toward her, eyebrows raised, already expecting compliance. For a moment, she almost did it. Instead, she set the bottle down on the coffee table between them.
Chad stared at it and then at her. “Really?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t look at him at all.
He scoffed, snatched up the bottle, and poured his own drink. Wine sloshed over the edge, darkening the rug beneath it.
“Maybe these spirits can help me with my portfolio,” he said, lifting his drink in a crooked salute. His laughter echoed once, then collapsed into silence.
Erica sat back down, her heart racing, her skin buzzing—not from fear exactly, but from the unnerving awareness that something fundamental had shifted. And she no longer trusted it to settle.