Chapter Fifteen
I made it halfway down the hallway before my knees started to feel unsteady. While the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, it was my nerves that were humming from the conversation. Both relief and exhaustion became a tangled mess inside me.
I’d done it.
That thought felt so surreal to even think about. Like I needed to whisper the words just to be able to believe it. I’d stood my ground. Looked Lindie in the eyes and made it clear what her options were once she was released from the hospital and my house wasn’t one of them.
The whole situation hit me like a wave, nearly knocking me down. For so long, she’d controlled everything. My music, my time, my voice. She’d controlled all of it. But today, it felt like I finally claimed it all back once and for all.
I knew it wasn’t over. Boundaries didn’t erase history. One conversation wasn’t going to heal a childhood. But for the first time, I used my voice, claimed it as my own, and Lindie actually listened to me.
My legs wobbled again, and I reached out, steadying myself on the wall. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or scream or laugh. Maybe all of it. At the same time if possible.
I stumbled forward, further from her room. Pride straightened my back as my decisions stripped the last remnants of her influence from my body.
There was a small waiting area with a vending machine for snacks. The vending machine hummed quietly as I dug through my wallet and pulled out my card. I needed something salty to calm my nerves. Pretzels maybe. I pressed the button and waited for the familiar clatter.
“Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”
I nearly jumped at the sudden voice.
“Dammit, Micah,” I said when I saw him standing a few feet away. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his thick brown curly hair slightly messy like he’d been running his hands through it. “What are you doing here?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing. I didn’t peg you for the vending machine lurker type.”
I laughed and even though it felt a little stiff, it also felt good, releasing the tension that had been holding me tight for too long. “Lindie is here. I was visiting her.”
His face softened immediately. “How’s she doing?”
“Better,” I said. “They think she’ll be released soon.”
Micah studied me for a moment, reading between the lines like he always did. “And how are you doing?”
“I...” I hesitated, biting the inside of my cheek. “I told her the truth today. About being emancipated. About selling the house. That she can’t come live with me.”
He gave a low whistle. “Damn. That’s a lot.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It was. But it needed to be done now that she’s in a better mindset.” I shuddered. “I can’t even think about if I tried to talk about any of that before today.”
One mention of selling the house would have probably put me back in the hospital. Lindie had clearly been mad, but at least she was able to rein in her temper. That was proof that she was doing well now.
Micah shifted his weight, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “You okay?”
“I think so.”
Micah nodded once, but his tone softened into something fierce and protective. “If she gives you trouble again, you tell me. I mean it, Cadence. I don’t care if I have to show up at her door myself.”
A startled laugh escaped me. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
“You sure?” His mouth quirked up, but his eyes were serious. “Because I’ve got the twins on speed dial, and I bet Hazel could throw together a whole intimidation slideshow in under an hour.”
The image of Hazel armed with a camera to gather blackmail material and Lillian holding a bat made me laugh for real. “Please don’t. The last thing I need is my mom thinking the yearbook staff is after her.”
Micah grinned. “Hey, we’re versatile.” Then his smile faded slightly. “Actually, that’s kind of why I’m here.”
“Yearbook vengeance?” I joked weakly.
He shook his head. “No. Remember their cousin who was bullied and tried to kill herself? She relapsed. She’s back in.”
My heart sank. “Oh no. I didn’t know.
All I knew about the whole situation was that they have a cousin who was now a freshman in high school.
Unfortunately, last year she was preyed on by Benji, a teammate of Paxon’s.
Paxon outed him on Halloween about the situation.
I shuddered, incapable of understanding what that poor girl had gone through.
I had nearly been assaulted at a soccer game and that had been horrifying in itself.
I couldn’t imagine anything beyond that and what kind of mess that would have left me. And their cousin had lived it.
“Hazel texted me earlier. Said they were at the hospital and I came to check on them.” He looked toward the hall. “You want to come say hi? I think they’d like to see you.”
I hesitated. “Wouldn’t that be intruding?”
Micah shook his head. “No way. You’re part of the group now, Cadence. Besides, Hazel’s been worried about you. And Lillian is pretending she isn’t.”
That last part made me smile faintly. “That sounds about right.”
“Come on,” he said, gesturing down the hall, and relief washed through me when I realized it was in the opposite direction of Lindie’s room. “They aren’t far.”
He didn’t exactly wait for my answer as he walked away, leaving me to follow.
The room Micah led me to had the door cracked open. Laughter drifted faintly through the gap.
Hazel was sitting cross-legged on the foot of a hospital bed, sketchbook open on her lap while Lillian stood beside her holding up a pack of gum like it was a sacred artifact. On the bed sat a girl maybe fourteen or fifteen, pale but smiling faintly. Her eyes lit up when she saw Micah.
“Finally,” Hazel said, grinning. “I was about to send a search party.”
“Relax, I’m here,” he said, stepping inside. “And I brought company.”
Hazel looked over and broke out into a wide smile. “Cadence!”
Lillian smirked. “Guess we rank higher than your boyfriends today.”
I rolled my eyes, stepping in. “Just barely.”
The girl on the bed shifted to sit up straighter, tugging at the sleeves of her hoodie. Hazel introduced her quickly. “Cadence, this is Margo. Our cousin.”
Margo’s eyes widened a little, recognition sparking. “Wait—Cadence Wiles?”
I hesitated, startled. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”
Hazel snorted. “Knew this would happen.”
Margo’s face flushed with excitement. “I know you probably hear this a lot, but your music, Hope’s Embrace uses it. The hospital gives it to new patients, and I listened to it every night for weeks.”
My throat went dry. “I know.” I had to fight a crack in my voice. “I donate my songs to them a lot.”
I didn’t know her eyes could get so wide. I was almost worried her eyeballs were going to fall out.
“Yeah, I have the playlist!” Margo quickly pulled out her phone. “I have every song of yours they have.” Her voice dropped. “The piano and your soft vocals helped me. When I couldn’t sleep or when things felt too big, it helped me breathe again.”
I blinked hard, trying to process that. My songs had been meant to help someone, but I never really imagined sitting across from one of them, and hearing about how much it helped them.
“I’m glad,” I said around a small rock in my throat. “That it helped.”
Margo smiled, nervous but eager. “There’s one song I really love. ‘When the Sky Learned to Sing.’ ”
I couldn’t help but smile. “That one’s special to me too.”
“I know the words,” Margo said, eyes shining. “Can I...would it be weird if I sang it?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Go ahead.”
Hazel and Lillian quieted immediately. Even Micah leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, his usual smile gone.
Margo took a slow breath and sang. Her voice was hesitant at first, uncertain, but it carried that same fragile kind of hope that lived in the song when I wrote it.
“The night was never endless,
It just forgot to dream.
And I was never voiceless,
Just waiting to believe.”
Her voice wavered, and without thinking, I joined her.
“You said someday we’d find our light again,
But the days don’t wait their turn.
Every truth feels half-forgotten now,
And I’m running out of dreams to learn.”
Hazel lifted her phone, recording quietly. Lillian had gone still. Margo’s eyes glistened, but she was smiling, really smiling, as the sound of our voices filled that sterile room until it didn’t feel like a hospital anymore.
When the last note faded, the silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was full.
“That,” Margo said, her voice small, “was amazing.”
I swallowed hard. “You’re amazing,” I said honestly. “You made that song come alive again.”
Hazel smiled softly. “Looks like you’ve got a duet partner now.”
“Guess so,” I murmured, and for the first time in a long time, I meant it. And seeing how my response made Margo beam only made everything feel right.
When I left the room an hour later, I felt lighter than I had in weeks.
My problems weren’t gone. Paxon was still a situation I didn’t know how to navigate. College still loomed ahead, uncertain and intimidating.
But standing beside that girl, singing something that had once come from my pain and seeing it bring someone else peace.
It reminded me of what mattered.