Chapter Eighteen
Dinner with Dad may have reminded me I wasn’t broken, but when I got home Sunday, I was too emotionally spent. Seth had texted to check in, but I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Not after seeing Lindie, then dealing with Paxon. Not after trying to convince myself I was okay during dinner.
I’d gone to bed early just to shut off my brain. It didn’t work.
By the time Sunday arrived, the ache was still there. My chest remained tight in that familiar, unwelcome way. All of yesterday still clung to me and I didn’t have it in me to face anyone. Not today.
So I stayed home. Stayed in my room. In my sweats. The day slowly passed with me pretending to continue to exist and I was able to make it last until late evening. My phone buzzed against the couch cushion beside me.
There was a new notification on my screen:
New group chat created.
Name: “Emotional Support Gremlins”
My breath hitched. A new chat rather than the one we always used. My stomach dipped as I realized Paxon was missing from it.
Seeing his absence so officially from something that involved all of us hit harder than hearing it out loud ever could.
It was one thing to know he’d pulled away, another to see the guys reshaping their space around that absence.
Making room for me without forcing him. I knew they were just trying to be careful and mindful of Paxon and me, but it felt too much like a loss.
For a second, I just stared at the screen, thumb frozen, breath shallow as my brain tried to fix it, tried to make me believe the notification was wrong. Like his name would magically appear if I blinked hard enough.
But it didn’t.
Before I could process any of it, the chat name flickered.
It went from Emotional Support Gremlins to Chaos Goblins (Sans Paxon).
Without having to look, I knew that Toby had struck. In the chat itself, a notification popped up. Toby renamed the chat to Chaos Goblins (Sans Paxon).
A beat later, a message came through.
Justin: Toby, we said subtle.
Toby: SUBTLE IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT.
Bryan: Dude. What the fuck?
Toby: WHAT?? Paxon’s not here. Cadence IS. We’re supporting her. Chaos Goblins mode activated.
I stared at the screen, a strange mix of grief and affection twisting together. They hadn’t tried to hide the divide, not really. Someone had tried to make it gentle, quiet, neutral.
And Toby, being Toby, rejected it instantly. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was the opposite actually, that he cared too much—loudly, unapologetically, in his Toby way. He wasn’t going to pretend or tiptoe. He didn’t have the patience.
This was their way of saying they were there for me. Even if it was messy. They weren’t pulling away like Paxon had.
More messages came in while I fought against the bubble of emotions rising inside me.
Bryan: You okay?
Justin: Need food? I can be there in 15 with spaghetti. It’s edible. Auntie Laura made it.
Toby: Or 10 if Bryan speeds for us.
Seth: No questions tonight. Just here if you need us.
My throat tightened. It wasn’t the chat we used to have. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t whole. But it was real. I stared at the thread, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. They meant well. I knew they did. But it only made the ache sharper because the one voice I needed to see wasn’t there.
Cadence: No.
At this point, I wasn’t even sure what I was responding to with how active the chat had become. There was a pause before Toby was the first to respond.
Toby: Then we’ll be ‘no’ together.
Bryan: That was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever read.
Toby: I’m not apologizing.
I almost smiled. Almost.
A few minutes later, my phone rang, Justin’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hey,” I said quietly, hitting the speaker button so I didn’t have to hold it up to my ear.
“Hey,” he replied, voice low and smooth like always. “Just checking if ‘no’ means you want to talk or to leave you alone.”
I hesitated. “Maybe somewhere in between.”
“I can do that,” he said. I could hear the faint shuffle of movement on his end and for a moment I imagined him pacing his living room. “Toby’s making noise again. He says hi.”
In the background, Toby’s voice came through faintly. “Tell her I said she still owes me popcorn!”
I laughed before I could stop myself. It was a small, breathy sound, but real. “You can tell him he’s not getting any. He spilled half the last bowl on my floor, the other half into my couch.”
“He heard that,” Justin said, voice filled with amusement. “And now he’s pouting.”
“Good.”
There was a comfortable pause this time. The kind of quiet that didn’t demand I fill it.
“Come over,” Justin said finally. “We’re watching that terrible action movie Toby loves. The one with the flying motorcycles and zero physics.”
“I don’t know...”
“Please?” Toby’s voice yelled in the background. “It’s not the same without your running commentary.”
“I don’t do that!”
“Sure you don’t,” Toby yelled back.
That earned another laugh. “Fine,” I said, already feeling lighter upon hearing their voices. “I’ll be there in a bit.”
~*~
By the time I pulled up to their place, the windows glowed warm against the chill night. Toby met me at the door, grinning, already holding a blanket like a peace offering.
“You made it,” he said, ushering me inside. “Justin started without you, but don’t worry. He paused it at the first explosion.”
Which didn’t say much, the first explosion was like five minutes into the movie.
“Obviously,” Justin said from the couch. “Can’t let her miss the ‘plot.’ ”
I kicked off my shoes while Toby claimed his spot on the couch.
He held out his arms for me without saying anything.
I knew it was more about him needing contact more than he’d ever admit.
I let him because frankly, I needed it too.
I practically crawled into his arms, letting him squeeze me to his side as he rested his head against the top of mine.
Justin reached over and tugged the blanket across my legs, his hand resting on my ankle in a way that grounded me.
The movie blared nonsense on the screen with impossible chases, cheesy one-liners, and overly large explosions that had Toby cackling.
Halfway through, he whispered, “Okay, but admit it, this scene’s kinda badass.”
“It defies the laws of gravity,” I whispered back.
“That’s why it’s awesome.”
Justin snorted. “You two are impossible.”
I smiled without forcing it, and it felt good to do it. The heaviness didn’t vanish, but it softened, like maybe it didn’t have to crush me tonight.
When Toby drifted off in the middle of the second half of the movie, I listened to his soft snore, preferring that over the movie.
Justin glanced over, voice quiet.
“You okay?”
“No,” I whispered. “But this helps.”
He nodded, eyes gentle. “Then that’s enough for now.”
The movie ended sometime past midnight. Toby was asleep, sprawled like a starfish across the couch. I was trapped beneath his arm, but I didn’t mind.
When the credits finished rolling, Justin leaned forward and turned down the volume. The light from the TV painted his face in cool blue shadows.
“You should stay,” he said softly. “It’s late. And you look tired.” His brows furrowed in worry. “And not a sleep-deprived kind of tired.”
I hesitated, glancing at Toby snoring beside me. “And him? Should we wake him so he can go to bed?”
“He probably sleeps on this couch as much as he does in his own bed,” Justin said, smiling faintly.
“All right.”
Justin helped me get off the couch without disturbing Toby, and then I headed to Justin’s room, which was also on the first floor, down the hall from the living room. There were originally only two bedrooms upstairs, so they had long ago converted a space downstairs into a third room for Justin.
I’d been to Toby and Justin’s house a handful of times and had stayed overnight once when it got too late and I fell asleep on their couch. Justin’s room was small, tucked in the quiet back corner of the house. The moment I stepped in, I paused.
The walls were lined with framed photos, neat and intentional. The first one I spotted was of Justin’s parents when they were younger, probably in their early twenties, smiling bright.
Next to it was one of his sister with soft dark curls and bright eyes, the picture capturing her in mid-laugh.
Then there was a photo of the entire family together at a park. A perfect happy family.
A family that didn’t exist anymore.
My chest ached as I took them in. “I didn’t realize you’d hung these up.”
“Bryan helped me. He said I needed to stop thinking of them as ghosts but as people.” He came over and stared at his parents. “Though he was mad when I wanted a photo of my dad.”
“Sounds like him. He was the most against you staying by your dad’s side when he was passing.”
“I’m glad I did,” he said softly.
“Me too.”
He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he turned to his bed. “You can take the right side. It’s clean. I promise.”
“You’ve been hanging around Seth too long. That sounds exactly like something he’d say.”
He chuckled and crossed the room. He dug in a drawer before turning to me. “Then I’ll take that as a compliment. Here, comfy clothes.”
“Thanks,” I murmured and quickly went to the bathroom and changed. The clothes were obviously too big for me, but they’d do for the night. Maybe I was going to need to keep an overnight bag in my car for moments like this.
When I went back into his room, he was pulling the blankets down. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” I suppressed another yawn. Once my body realized sleep was right around the corner, the yawning started hitting me.
I slipped under the covers, my pulse still unsteady from everything that had happened that week. Justin settled in beside me, the bed dipping under his weight, his movements quiet and deliberate. For a while, neither of us spoke.
I watched the light from the window stretch across the ceiling, moving slowly as the minutes passed.
“You don’t have to talk,” he said finally, voice low. “But if you want to, I’ll listen.”
“I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted. “It’s all so heavy.”
He nodded. “Then don’t start.” He reached over and pulled me against his chest. “Just be here.”
The understanding in his tone unraveled me and the feel of his warm body against mine eased the last bit of tension in me. I turned into him, and in the darkness, his face was closer than I’d realized.
His eyes met mine, searching. “You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, even though I wasn’t.
He reached up, brushing a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to be.”
That simple truth undid me. I leaned forward before I could think, pressing my forehead against his.
He didn’t move, didn’t rush, just breathed with me until our breaths synced. And then, slowly, gently, he kissed me.
His kiss didn’t demand or promise anything. It was soft and slow, a small reminder that he was there with me. And the two of us were real. I returned it with the same energy, enjoying the moment for how simple and sweet it was.
When I pulled back, he didn’t ask for more. He just wrapped his arm around me and drew me close against his chest.
I listened to his heartbeat for a long time. It was steady and calm, so unlike mine.
He kissed the top of my head, and I felt his smile against my hair. “You aren’t alone. Please, just remember that. I’m here with you right now.”
The room went quiet again, save for the soft hum of the heater and our breathing falling into rhythm once more. I slowly fell asleep and for the first time in weeks, I slept without dreams.