Chapter 1 Erin
PRESENT DAY
“There are five minutes left of our final session, Erin.” Roberta’s voice is balanced and mellow. “Take a moment and reflect on how far you’ve come.”
I take a deep breath and do as she asks.
Eight years in this chair, the same blinds, lamps, and lavender fragrance pumping in the air.
“I was twelve when we met,” I say quietly. “Now I’m twenty. It’s hard not to think you watched me grow up.”
Roberta’s light blue eyes brighten with a knowing smile as she waits for me to continue.
For as long as I can remember, before I went into the system, I’ve spent years trying to earn my mother’s love and affection. Nothing I did could satisfy her. I ended up with nothing but her frosty gaze and harsh words.
Even when she’s not there, her voice rings out in my head, cutting and cruel, telling me how stupid and pathetic I am.
You can’t do anything right, Lucia.
Whenever my foster father, Roger, would get angry and punish Griff, my foster brother, I’d hear her voice, whispering that it was my fault. That every punch and kick Griff endured was always because of me.
Look what you did, Lucia.
Before I came to Huxley Bay, I thought I’d never find a way to block her out. That I’d live with her condescending remarks forever, growing louder each time.
And then I met Roberta.
Mantras became our tool. Words I could use to build myself up when my mother tried to tear me apart.
Sometimes, despite saying them, her voice still slipped in. But I didn’t give up. I repeated them more. Made new ones. Built a fortress of solitude out of words brick by brick. Eventually, mantras became a kind of safe haven for me, and they started to hold.
The first time a guy grabbed my ass, I was seventeen. When I heard my mother’s voice for the first time in months, telling me it was my fault, I cried. It felt like landing on a snake instead of a ladder and sliding back to the start, undoing everything I’d achieved.
You shouldn’t have smiled at him like that, Lucia.
You knew what you were doing.
You started this.
From that day on, her voice only seemed to come back when it was about men or when my guard was down. So, I stayed away from men altogether.
I still do.
No dating. No hookups. No guy friends. I’ve made sure to never put myself in situations where my mother can find a way to attack me.
Most days, the mantras are enough.
But if I get too comfortable and forget to say them, she finds a way in. When that happens, I have to work harder or let her have her fun until she gets bored.
Still, things have been manageable.
I exhale, looking up at Roberta.
“It’s been three years since I last heard her voice. The only time since then was last month, during the incident with Wess. Other than that, I’m doing well.”
Roberta’s eyes glow with understanding. She’s been here for me from the start. Those eyes have watched me at my weakest, and now, it seems she’s watching me at my strongest.
The way a proud mother would.
“You’ve worked incredibly hard to understand where your fear of dating and being around men comes from, and you didn’t let what happened with Wess recently undo the progress you’ve made.”
A single thought slips through, one I don’t voice.
Will there ever be a day when I won’t need the mantras—when my mother’s piercing voice finally falls silent on its own, without my words holding her back?
I hope so.
Roberta’s nurturing voice pulls me back.
“You grew up in a toxic environment, internalizing everything your mother said and did. Eventually, you decided you never wanted to be her. To hurt people the way she hurt your father when she cheated on him. But you are not your mother, Erin. Remember that.”
“I’m not my mother,” I repeat.
“Putting distance between yourself and others shows how much you care. That self-awareness is what makes you different from her. You don’t need to stay away from all men to avoid becoming her.
And you don’t need a perfect relationship to prove you’re not.
This is all about what feels right for you when you’re ready to take those steps. ”
I soak in her words.
“Maybe start with a conversation,” Roberta continues.
“Build a friendship. See what it means to have a stable, healthy connection, even if it’s just platonic.
If that grows into more, that doesn’t mean you need to be afraid of becoming her.
Trust yourself. And if your fears ever start to feel too heavy again, you know where to find me. ”
Gratitude swirls inside of me. “Thanks, Roberta. For everything.” I stand from the chair I’ve sat in every two weeks since I was twelve—and for what might be the very last time.
I walk over to the door and wrap a hand around the handle. I pull it open and step into the hallway.
No more lavender fragrance. No more gentle reminders from Roberta to breathe.
It’s only me.
As I step outside into the cool air, I wait for a clear path to cross the street as cars hum past. I always wonder what kind of drivers they are—quiet thinkers, radio listeners, or playlist lovers. Are they escaping our small town for a few hours or heading off to a job they love…or hate?
Huxley Bay isn’t like other small towns. It doesn’t feed off gossip or other people’s misfortune. We’re a community here. A family. Not the kind that pries, but the kind that remembers your birthday, drops off casseroles, and rallies when you need it—even when you say you don’t.
I step across the street, making my way to The Sketch Pad. The building rises in clean lines of glass and pale stone, crisp angles and wide windows. What’s cool about this place is that the architects inside helped design it.
The motion sensor detects me coming and the doors split open. A puff of vanilla-scented air hits me, immediately making me crave a sugary treat.
“Hey, Erin,” Lois calls from the receptionist desk, sliding the visitor’s badge across the surface.
“Hey, Lois. Thanks.” I clip the badge to my jeans.
“Book club is back at Bakes by the Lakes this weekend, right?” she asks, pressing the button to lift the badge-controlled entry barriers.
“Yep. No more rodents tagging along.”
She shivers. “Thank god.”
I laugh at the memory of Mrs. Darwin’s hamsters staring at us while eating bite-sized courgettes while we gushed over last month’s romance novel.
Nothing like swooning over cowboy spice under hamster surveillance.
I wave goodbye to Lois and step into the elevator. It hums as it climbs thirteen floors without making a single stop.
When I step out, it’s quiet and no one is around. Glass walls separate the waiting area from the offices, muted light streaming down from the ceiling above, making the space seem open.
I walk to the door that reads BELLA SILVER - ARCHITECT and push it open, but I don’t see my sister when I step inside.
A silver photo frame catches the light from the window, resting on the edge of the glass desk. I lift the frame, the cold metal edges pressing into my palm, as I stare at the picture of four faces radiating genuine happiness. Another reminder of how far I’ve come.
Adoption day. Six years ago.
My eyes well thinking back on the day I met the Silvers—the day I slipped onto a bus in Charlotte, hoping it would carry me far from Roger’s abuse.
The bus only took me as far as Detroit before my luck ran out and I landed in trouble at a diner.
That’s where Bella found me. She took me back to her parents’ house in Michigan.
The moment I saw Leon Silver, rigid in his khaki uniform, I hid beneath their table, convinced he would take me back to Roger.
Leon was an officer of the law. I was a runaway.
It was his job to report situations such as the one I was in.
But, in full uniform, Leon had ducked under the table I was hiding under and promised I was safe. He sat there with me until I believed him and finally felt brave enough to tell him about Roger. How he hurt me and Griff.
They didn’t send me away that night, but they did call CPS. I was allowed to stay with them as an emergency foster placement. It helped that Leon was high up in the ranks and his wife, Jenna, was a lawyer.
I was lucky enough to have my case fast-tracked, and after an investigation, Roger’s license was revoked. He was also charged with child abuse. They never found Griff, though. He was seventeen and left on his own a few days before I ran away.
A year after Roger’s arrest, the Silvers told me they wanted to adopt me, if that’s what I wanted.
And it was.
I was honest with them about most things—except one. What I saw happen to my dad. I didn’t tell them about the man with the tattoo who came for me, either. No one knew. Not even Roberta.
During the years I lived with Roger, he said a social worker had told him my dad died in a car accident.
The first time Roger told me that, he was drunk. He said that if I had been in the car with my dad, I wouldn’t be his problem.
I cried that night, because I knew it was a lie. I was there. I saw what happened, and it made me question why someone would lie, but I was too scared to ask anyone and too scared to tell the truth.
I just wanted a fresh start.
My mind drifts back to the day in the courtroom moments before the adoption was finalized and I became a Silver.
“I understand you wish to change both your first and last name, is that right?” Judge Hopper asks.
“Yes, sir. I mean, Your Honor.”
“Please state your name for the record.”
“Erin Silver Callahan.”
“The court supports and fully accepts your decision, Erin,” he says. “Congratulations.”
Tears fill my eyes at the start of a new beginning.
I’m told to smile, and for the first time in a long time, I do.
The picture gets taken, and Bella throws her arms around me as I sob into her. She wipes my face before her own.
“You’re stuck with me now, baby sis. Us against the world. I promise. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
A laugh echoes from the hallway. A second later, Bella bursts through the door, files clutched in her hands. Her blonde hair spills down her back, and her vibrant green eyes—so similar to our parents—flick to my hands.
“Caught red-handed,” she teases, kicking off her heels and bending to pick them up.
“Just saying hi to Mom and Dad,” I say, putting the frame back.
Her features brighten with affection. “Us against the world.”
“Us against the world,” I echo.
We stand there, letting the space fill with our grief. The Silvers died two years ago in a boating accident. Losing two sets of parents right before turning eighteen leaves behind an everlasting kind of ache, but somehow, you find a way to live with it because you have to.
Bella straightens, the moment gone as quickly as it came.
“How was your last session?” she asks, slipping into a pair of flats.
“Strange that it’s over, but it’s freeing.”
“I’m glad,” she says. “So, listen, I have some news, and I want to celebrate so we’re going out tonight. Hendrick’s Bar.”
“Bella…” I drag her name out in protest. “A bar is not my scene, and you know it.”
She grins. “I do. But Brodie will be there, and I really want you to meet him.”
“Ah, the guy who asked for your number at the architect conference a few months ago.”
“Yep,” she confirms. “We’ve only been on a handful of dates, but I really think he’s the one.”
“What are we celebrating?” I ask.
“Do you remember me telling you that he works with his father, who owns a whiskey distillery?”
I nod. “Emerson’s Barrel & Sons.”
“Brodie wants to take it one step further and open his own club in California. He wants me to design and build it with him from scratch,” she explains. “The meeting I came from a few minutes ago… My boss signed off on me transferring to The Sketch Pad location in California.”
“Bella! That’s incredible,” I beam, pulling her into a hug and holding her tightly as I try to ignore the quiet churn inside of me at the thought of Bella leaving. It’s a change I’m not sure I’m ready for.
Bella untangles herself from me.
“Victor said this project is exactly what the firm needs to get Helena James’s attention.” Bella’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “And that it might get us her upcoming estate project.”
“That would be huge.”
Bella sighs. “A three-year project—five acres of land for me to show her what I can do. It would catapult my career to infinity and beyond,” she says, throwing her arms up dramatically in the air.
“How long will you be in California?” I ask.
“Nine months. Maybe a year. But since Brodie will be my boss, I get to come home whenever I want. You’re not getting rid of me, baby sis.”
She’s always thinking about me.
“So we’re celebrating with Long Islands and club soda!” Bella claps her hands together.
She’s full of joy and I want to share it with her, but my core tightens instead.
A bar means people.
Noise. Eyes. Hands.
Men.
My fingers begin to twitch, and my pulse stutters, remembering how Wess forced himself on me last month and my mother’s words that followed after it.
You wanted his attention, Lucia.
You stayed after office hours.
You gave him the wrong impression.
It’s your fault.
It’s always your fault.
Bella notices my shift in emotion and moves to stand in front of me. She places her hand on my cheek and bends to look me in the eye. She’s got at least four inches on me.
“Erin,” Bella says with quiet assurance, bringing me back to the present moment. I open my eyes and look into her empathetic ones. “You can do this.”
I let out a breath and square my shoulders. “It’s just a bar.”
“That’s right,” Bella says.
“I can do this.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I can have a conversation.”
“That’s my girl.”
“I’m going.”
“Hell yeah, you are, baby sister.” Bella squeals and throws her arms around me in a tight hug.
I return her embrace and let my eyes fall shut as Bella sways us. I repeat my mantra:
I am enough.
I am in control.
I’ve come so far, and I’m not going back.
I am not my mother.