Chapter 18 Holly
HOLLY
Iwasn't trying to eavesdrop. Honestly. I was just coming down for a glass of water, padding quietly through the house in my sock feet the way I'd learned to do at "home" so I didn't wake my mom and whatever guy she came home with. Old habits die hard, I guess.
I was almost to the kitchen when I heard Aunt Elyse's voice, tense in a way I hadn't heard before.
"I'm sorry. Did you say she wants to terminate her parental rights?"
I froze, one hand braced against the wall. She. My mother. Had to be.
"How long has it been since anyone's heard from her?" Aunt Elyse asked whoever was on the phone. I guessed it was Grandpa. He was always the one who made the difficult calls.
I should have kept walking. Should have gone back upstairs. But my feet wouldn't move.
"I see," Aunt Elyse continued. "And did she seem... clean? Sober?"
My throat tightened. Last time I'd seen Mom, she'd been anything but clean or sober. She'd promised she'd call, promised she'd come back for me once she "figured some things out." She'd been "figuring some things out" for three months.
"So what does this mean for Holly if Rachel doesn't come back? Can she terminate her rights?" Aunt Elyse's voice dropped lower, and I had to strain to hear. "Legally, I mean."
I sucked in a breath, suddenly dizzy. Legally. They were talking about me like I was a problem to solve, a case to manage. Just like the social worker who'd come to our apartment that time, clipboard in hand, speaking in that same careful tone.
"Dad, are you sure about this? It just seems so... final."
Final. The word echoed in my head. My mother wanted to terminate her rights. She wanted to be done with me, legally and officially done. Not just gone for a while, not just figuring things out. Done.
"I'll talk to Drew," Aunt Elyse was saying, her voice fading as she moved deeper into the kitchen. "We'll need to figure out what to do if Rachel terminates her rights."
I must have made a sound because she suddenly stopped talking.
"Holly," she said, reaching for me.
I couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. I turned and ran for the front door, yanking it open and bursting outside into the humid Florida air.
I didn't know where I was going—didn't have a plan beyond getting away, away from that conversation, away from the knowledge that my own mother wanted to sever the last thread connecting us.
I made it to the end of the driveway before the tears started, hot and fast, blurring the street in front of me. I kept walking, my sock feet getting damp from the grass along the sidewalk. I didn't care.
Terminate her rights. Be done with me. Final.
Had I been that terrible? That difficult to love? I knew Mom struggled—knew her addiction made everything harder—but I'd always believed deep down that she loved me. That she'd get better. That someday we'd be a real family again.
Stupid. So stupid.
I don't know how far I walked, but eventually I found myself at the small park by the beach a few blocks from the house. I collapsed onto a swing, the chains cool against my palms as I gripped them.
Mom used to take me to the park, back when I was little. Before things got really bad. She'd push me on the swings, laughing as I demanded to go "higher, higher!" It's one of the few clear memories I have of her being... happy. Present.
Was that even real? Or just something I'd made up because I needed it to be true?
I dug my toes into the sand beneath the swing, pushing myself back and forth listlessly. The repetitive motion was soothing, giving me something to focus on besides the storm in my head.
Terminate her rights. Be done with me. Final.
Part of me had always known this day would come. Mom had been slipping away for years, each relapse taking more of her, leaving less behind for me to hold onto. But knowing it could happen and hearing it discussed like a real possibility were two very different things.
What would happen to me now? Would I go back to Grandma and Grandpa's? Would I stay with Aunt Elyse and Uncle Drew? Would I end up in foster care, shuttled between strangers until I aged out of the system?
The uncertainty made my stomach clench.
I heard footsteps approaching on the path and looked up, expecting a park ranger or maybe some kids coming to play. Instead, I saw Paige and Ben walking toward me, concern etched on their faces.
Great. The whole town was probably looking for me by now.
"Hey there," Paige said gently, stopping a few feet away. Not crowding me. "Mind if we join you?"
I shrugged, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. "Free country."
Ben sat on the adjacent swing while Paige leaned against the metal frame. Neither spoke for a moment, giving me space. I appreciated that.
"Your aunt's pretty worried," Ben finally said, his voice casual, like we were just having a normal conversation. "Asked us if we'd seen you around town."
"I'm fine," I said automatically. "Just needed some air."
Paige nodded. "Fresh air is good. Especially when you've got a lot on your mind."
I glanced at her sharply. "Did she tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Paige asked, her confusion seeming genuine.
So they didn't know. Somehow that made it worse—having to explain, to say the words out loud.
"Nothing," I muttered, dragging my feet through the sand. "I just... I heard something I wasn't supposed to hear."
Ben and Paige exchanged a look, having one of those silent adult conversations over my head.
"Want to talk about it?" Ben offered. "Sometimes saying things out loud makes them less scary."
I almost laughed.
Less scary? Nothing could make this less scary.
"My mom wants to terminate her parental rights," I said flatly, the words like stones dropping from my mouth. "She wants to be legally done with me. Forever."
Saying it out loud didn't make it less scary. It made it real. I sobbed into my hands.
"Oh, Holly," said Paige in a soft mother-y voice.
"Don't," I said sharply as I looked up. "And please don't look at me like that. Like I'm some tragic case you feel sorry for."
"I don't feel sorry for you," Paige said, surprising me with her directness. "I admire you. You're one of the strongest people I know."
I snorted. "Right. The crying girl in socks at the park. Super strong."
"Yes," she said firmly. "Because you're feeling it. You're not running from it or pretending it doesn't hurt. That takes courage. It's ok to process your feelings alone, you just have to let the people that love you know that's what you're doing."
I hadn't thought of it that way before. Mom was always telling me to "toughen up" or "stop being so sensitive.
" I always thought that feelings were equal to weakness in her book, but I was starting to understand her a little better.
She only made it seem that way because she didn't know how to deal with her own feelings let alone anyone else's. Including mine.
"What's going to happen to me?" I asked, my voice smaller than I intended.
Ben leaned forward on his swing. "I don't know exactly, but I do know this: You're not alone in figuring it out. You've got your aunt and uncle. You've got your grandparents. And you've got a whole crew of us who think you're pretty special."
"But what if—" I started, then stopped, afraid to voice my deepest fear.
"What if what?" Paige prompted gently.
"What if no one wants me?" I whispered. "Permanently, I mean."
Paige made a sound of protest, but Ben spoke first. "Holly, from what I can see, Elyse and Drew are crazy about you. The way they talk about you... they're not hoping this is temporary."
"How do you know?" I challenged.
"Because I see how they've changed their whole lives to make space for you," he said simply. "Not because they had to. Because they wanted to."
I thought about the lavender paper lining the dresser drawers. The way Aunt Elyse had taken me shopping for clothes without making me feel like a charity case. How Uncle Drew had cleared a shelf in the garage for my art supplies without me even asking.
Little things. Permanent things.
The word itself felt almost sinful. Like wanting permanence and stability was asking for too much.
"Elyse was running after you the same minute you left the house," Paige added. "She was frantic. Those aren't the actions of someone who doesn't care."
I blinked back fresh tears. "But I'm not... I'm just their niece."
"Family isn't just about biology, Holly," Ben said quietly as he bent forward on his swing to make sure I was listening.
Hearing. "It's not about obligation. The most important people are the ones who show up.
Who stay. Who make room for you in their lives, not just when it's easy, but especially when it's hard. "
Something in his words resonated deep inside me.
I thought about how Aunt Elyse had handled the shoplifting incident—with firmness but without the drama or rejection I'd expected.
How Uncle Drew taught me to use his fancy camera, patient with my fumbling questions.
How they both checked in with me about school and friends and feelings without making it seem like an interrogation or a therapy session.
They showed up. They stayed. They made room.
"Can we take you home?" Paige asked after a moment. "If you're ready?"
Home. The word felt different now. Not just a place I was staying temporarily. Maybe something more.
I nodded, standing up from the swing. "Yeah. I'm ready."
As we walked back toward Aunt Elyse and Uncle Drew 's house—toward home—I felt something shift inside me. My mother's decision still hurt (would probably always hurt) but maybe it wasn't the end of everything. Maybe it was just the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.
A chapter where I got to decide who my family was.