Chapter 39
Tessa
Jo, I'm sorry. I didn't mean the things I said the way I said them.
Please call me back.
Morning! Good luck today! Send me a picture of your dress!
Hello?
Seriously? Are you still mad about yesterday?
Okay, I'm starting to worry now. Will you please just answer me?
Six texts—six texts and even more calls to my sister have gone unanswered in the last twenty-four hours. I meant what I said in my message—I'm starting to worry.
Jo has a tendency to be a little dramatic and a lot stubborn, but even she has limits. I can't imagine she'd shut me out before something this big for her. Or, at the very least, not need me for something.
So now I'm standing at the island while Ruthie sits across from me, elbows planted, face six inches from her social studies poster, fully invested.
I pretend to be shopping online, but the reality is, I'm scouring the internet for any information I can find on digital media conventions within a thirty-mile radius.
There isn't much. Apparently, it's massive to people who fit the niche, but nearly invisible to everyone else.
"Do you remember the third Hollowell sister?" Ruthie asks, peering up at me. "I can only remember Irina and Beth."
"Jo." I lift my head, the name catching slightly in my throat. "Josephine," I clarify. "Irina, Beth, and Josephine."
Her face brightens as she carefully jots the name down next to the image she drew of three very typical witches.
The Hollowell sisters, three women from the town of Mage Hollow where we visited last week, hid in plain sight.
There were no pointy hats or black capes like in Ruthie's picture.
The women just simply existed in a world that didn't quite know how to walk beside them.
The poster is more than the project requires though—Ruthie is just really invested.
So, I'm not sure clarifying the accuracy is really worth dulling her interest.
"You liked our little field trip, huh?"
She shrugs, smiling. "I never would've thought to pick witches for my topic on Beliefs, Myths, and Folklore.
But it's actually really fun. People thought they were weird because they weren't like everyone else, but they made being different seem cool.
I'd take having powers over blending in any day. "
I smile, relieved to see her confidence still going strong.
I'm happy that she's back to embracing uniqueness rather than feeling pressured into believing there's only one type of normal.
"Same. That's why I was always interested too.
And Mage Hollow is close enough that it's fun to visit where things really happened.
Plus, being weird is kind of my favorite thing to be. Different is cool, remember?"
Her gaze meets mine, and I wink, then stick my tongue out. She laughs, and I look back down at my laptop, that lingering worry creeping back in.
"Your dad should be home any minute," I say, picking up my phone and reading the time. I swipe my messages open to reread the last one from Liam telling me when his flight will land in G.C. Instead, though, my siblings' group chat catches my attention.
"Perfect," Ruthie says as I click open the thread. "I just have to finish this last part, then I can show him the finished poster when he gets here."
I smile at her, peering back down at the texts—nothing new for the last day and a half. I type out a message, short and simple, thinking maybe Jo will respond when it's not just for me.
What's everyone up to?
Setting my phone back on the counter, I watch Ruthie outline the names of the three sisters in black.
Something about her steady hand, the deep color of the pencil, and the way the letters jump off the page after she finishes tracing each one, mesmerizes me.
I float away for a second, back to the reason Jo got mad in the first place, and the same irritation I felt yesterday returns.
So maybe it was wrong of me to snap. I definitely could have chosen a nicer way to express the way I was feeling.
But the reality is, everything I said was true.
Jo does need to take more responsibility for herself, and even just for my sake, it would be nice if she at least pretended to care about her readings.
No, she never asked me to watch out for her, but as my baby sister, she shouldn't have to.
And she shouldn't be so surprised that I do.
Helping my siblings has always been second nature to me.
It's who I am—the fixer, the one with the answers.
The one who stays standing so they always have someone to lean on.
It's never bothered Jo before. Not when I was egging her ex's car or listening to her gripe about the comments section of her latest post. But now that it's her health, she has something to say? Or rather… nothing to say?
My focus trails back up to Ruthie, still giving her artwork all of her attention, completely unaware of the storm building in my mind. And suddenly, another worry creeps in beside the first. One I haven't considered.
What if she isn't as okay with me and Liam as he thinks she will be?
What if we tell her and that one statement cracks the connection we've been building—one day, one lesson, one adventure at a time?
Maybe it's the fact that I never pictured Jo reacting this way—not seriously at least—that allows that fear in. But the idea of losing any of them—Jo, Ruthie… him… makes that knot in my stomach grow even tighter.
A humming brings me back to reality. My eyes dart to my phone, but the screen is still black—no messages or incoming calls. Then, I spot Ruthie looking over her shoulder and realize it's the garage door rumbling to life.
A flush of relief hits me hard and fast, only taking out half of the nerves.
Now, something closer to adrenaline replaces the fear in my belly.
That kind that you get standing on the edge of a cliff you're choosing to jump off of.
Or before you tell the girl you nanny that you're falling for her father.
My phone buzzes twice on the marble as the click of the laundry room door echoes into the kitchen. I look at the messages lit up on my screen—one from Margot and one from Owen.
"Hello," Liam calls out before I can read them.
I press the balls of my feet deeper into the floor, resisting the urge to run to him for that comfort he always seems to provide.
"In here!" Ruthie shouts, already twisting in her seat.
Liam walks through the door, his eyes finding her instantly. He smiles wide, dropping his duffle bag by the couch, then opens his arms for her. Ruthie launches herself at him, burying her face into his chest.
"I missed you guys," he says, his eyes flicking to mine.
I gasp—partly because his presence always makes air just a little harder to come by, but partly because of my inclusion in his statement.
"We missed you too," Ruthie says so naturally I almost miss it.
Just like that, I breathe easier again, that knot just above my belly button loosening slightly.
It's not gone—not completely. But it's better.
And I'll take that.
"That poster might be the most excited she's been about school… ever," Liam says, plopping down next to me on the couch.
My skin instantly buzzes this close to his, and I have to actively stop myself from tracing the rim of his glasses—something I find myself wanting to do every time he wears them. What is it about black frames on this man that drives me so crazy?
"That was all her," I say, propping my knee up and turning to face him. "The project was just an essay, but she wanted to do more."
He laughs, casually dropping his hand onto my knee. My eyes dart to the contact. His follow as he nonchalantly sets fire to the joint, brushing his thumb across it gently. "I don't know. I think the field trip was what did it, and that was all you."
I wave him off, sinking into the cushion—and pushing past the fact that his hand's on my lower thigh. "Mage Hollow is such a neat place. I went there for myself just as much as I did for her."
"Wait a second…" he says, his forehead creasing. "Why does that sound so familiar?"
I shrug, the corners of my lips turning down.
Liam pauses, thinking, then his brows shoot up as he taps his palm against my leg. "That's where Holloway's from."
I purse my lips. "Really? Wow, small world."
He shakes his head, blinking away the thought.
"How's that going by the way?" His eyes meet mine, and I catch my reflection in the lenses of his glasses.
It almost surprises me how at peace I look here with him.
It's as if my body knows I'm safe despite my mind racing about a million things—mostly the fact that all of my siblings have been chatting for the past hour and a half.
Everyone except for Jo.
"With Jace?" Liam asks. I nod, and he leans back on the sofa.
"It's good. I think I'm finally starting to get him.
We're so different, ya know? The way we act, how we see the game.
But there are versions of us that are the same.
" He chuckles to himself. "If the one of me from fifteen years ago stood next to him now, you'd think we were twins. "
I scrunch up my face, my eyes narrow. "Eh, I'm not so sure."
He looks at me, confused.
"My guess is you were definitely hotter."
He snorts out a laugh and nods. "Is it the sleeves? I don't get 'em either. The kid has so much style out of uniform, but the blue with the green and yellow? Really?"
"Doesn't make much sense," I admit.
"Right?" Liam asks, his voice eager. "That's what I'm saying."
We both laugh, his smile softening as he focuses on the way his fingers glide back and forth across the denim. "He's growing on me, though." His eyes meet mine. "Dare I say I almost like helping him navigate it all."
"Well, he's talented, right? I'm sure he'll do your position justice when you're gone."
He huffs out a breath, and for a split-second, I worry that maybe I said too much. But then, he nods in agreement.
"He will. But I don't just mean the baseball stuff. It seems like there's so much these young players have to learn—things that are crucial to their success but not necessarily taught on the field." He sighs, shrugging. "Or maybe that's just the dad in me."
"Well, even so—especially so—he's lucky." I place my hand on top of his, and it feels slightly strange being that we're not technically alone, but not wrong. "Because the dad in you does a pretty damn good job."
His jaw—and his grip on my knee—tightens as his throat moves up and down. "Thanks, I'm trying."
I smile, and a silence settles between us, charged with something so much stronger than want or desire.
"Hey," I murmur, and his eyes shoot to mine. "How are you feeling about your retirement? Have you thought about what you might want to do after?"
Liam lifts his chin, thinking. "Not really," he says. He sighs. "But I know I need to figure it out.”
My heart aches as I watch his face pale with worry. "Are you stressed about it?"
His eyes bounce back and forth between mine like he's deciding how to answer. "A little," he finally admits.
Without realizing it, I drift closer, that familiar pull between us stronger than ever. "Well, don't be," I say simply. "We'll figure it out."
"We?" he asks as one brow lifts and his mouth twists into a lazy grin.
I nudge his elbow with mine. "Yeah, we." He stills, all of his attention on me, and I feel it everywhere.
He inhales a slow, steady breath, glancing over his shoulder. He scans the entryway, then tugs me to him. "Come here," he whispers. He wraps his arms around me as I fold against him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
"How were things here?" he asks, his chin resting lightly on the top of my head. "Everything okay?"
"Ruthie was great. The game was everything."
"Oh, I've heard," he chuckles. "And you? How have you been?"
My argument with Jo replays in my mind—the countless unanswered texts and calls, the conversation in our group chat that she still hasn't responded to. My gut tells me something might be wrong, but for now, I push it down.
"Yeah… good," I say regardless of the truth.
Liam exhales his relief, his breath warm against me, and a sudden rush of reality hits me like a truck.
Here I am, curled against him, feeling safe—the same way I have so many times over these past few weeks, and I still can't be completely honest. That weight on my chest as I worry about my sister, the guilt and responsibility I feel whether I really should or not… I'm still carrying it all on my own.
And that's when it clicks.
I haven't told him.
I can be Jo's common sense and Ruthie's fill-in parent. I can even be what helps get Liam through this next big chapter if that's what he needs. Fixing, carrying, filling in—I know how to do all that.
But the thing I still don't know how to do—the thing I've never really learned, never really felt comfortable with—is letting someone see me when I'm the one that's struggling. Despite how good this feels, despite how far I swear I’ve come, I’m already doing what I always do.
Holding back the hardest parts.
"Tomorrow then?" Liam asks.
And he deserves that.
"Tess?"
Ruthie deserves that.
"Hmm?"
I pull back slightly, still reeling over my latest realization.
I can't even give him the simple truth when he asks for it—no, everything's not okay.
When our eyes meet, his are clear and unwavering, and they stay that way as he repeats his question. "Tomorrow? We'll tell Ruthie?"
So, why does it feel like I'm already failing them?
Not because I don’t care enough.
But because even though I care so much, I clearly don’t know how to stop holding back.
"Tomorrow," I echo, my voice steadier than I feel.
Why can't I give them everything?