Chapter 32 Aftershocks Beau #2
“The sponsorship deal blew up, and of course he already knew all about it. Sounded almost gleeful about it. Said Luna was…” I trail off, unable to put it into words.
“A distraction?” she finishes.
I blink at her. “You heard?”
“Pretty sure he said the same thing about Dev. Or something about him being unworthy.” She exhales through her nose. “He really doesn’t hold back, does he?”
“Nope.”
She leans her head back against the cabinet. “You gonna listen to him?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I used to think I could just get through college, take the job, suck it up, and let it all happen around me.”
“And now?”
“Now it feels like I’m fading.”
Cece’s quiet for a long moment. “You talked about telling Luna how you feel. What’s stopping you?”
I stare down at the coffee in my hands. “She didn’t say anything after the video. Didn’t reach out.”
“Neither did you.”
I glance at her. She’s being honest, not harsh. That’s my sister, through and through. Never pulls her punches.
“Maybe I thought she didn’t want to be involved with me anymore,” I say. “All I’ve brought to her life is disappointment and family drama. She’s got so much ahead of her. I’d just end up dragging her down.”
Cece nods. “But did you tell her that? Or did you just sit here on the kitchen floor waiting for her to read your mind?”
“Ouch.”
“You know I’m right, Beau. I’m always right, remember?” She winks at me, bringing a little more lightness to the air.
“Really? You want me to list all the times you were wrong, Sissy? Because it’s all up here.” I snort, tapping the side of my head, but she just stares at me. The smile slips off my face, and I study the blue veins standing out on the back of my hands. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“That’s part of your problem. You think you can fix everything.
And the things you can’t fix, you hide away deep in that brain of yours.
That’s not okay. You’re going to implode one day.
And I can’t let you disappear into the woods to live off the grid for the rest of your life.
I kinda need you around. Take the attention off me, you know? ”
She’s right, but it’s a hard truth to admit. “I’m not going to disappear. Even if I tried, you’d find me, drag me out of my peaceful cabin, and throw me in a group chat.”
“That’s right, I would. Listen to me carefully now, Beau. The only person you can fix is yourself. You don’t fix other people. You show up. You say the thing. You try. And you work on your own issues. That’s the most important part.”
I look at her. She’s still got charcoal smudges on her knuckles from whatever she was working on before this.
Her messy hair is falling out of its braid, and my fingers itch to grab her a brush.
There’s a hole in the sleeve of her well-worn sweatshirt.
Cece has it figured out. She’s living her life on her own terms. Not letting our family or her issues control her.
“You always make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not,” she says. “But neither is hating yourself for doing nothing.”
I nod. It’s the only thing I can manage. Then, without warning, I say, “I started therapy.”
Cece turns to me so fast her braid smacks my arm. “What?”
I shrug. “Went to student health. Filled out the paperwork, and then I had my first online session a couple days ago.”
Her eyes shine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know if I’d stick with it.”
“You better damn well stick with it. I need you around, and I have a feeling that if you don’t get your head right, you’ll solidify into a block of ice. Kind of like someone else we know.”
“I thought you said I was going to implode.”
She shrugs. “Could go either way. I’m no psychic. I’d prefer neither, though.”
My smile is small, tight, but real. “I’ll do my best.”
She bumps her shoulder against mine. “Proud of you.”
And for the first time in a while, I believe it.
Cece heads out after a while. She’s off to meet Dev at the library. Study session and then a dinner date. It’s almost normal now seeing them together. I tell her to text me when she gets there and close the door behind her without locking it.
The house is too quiet. Normally, I relish the peace when my noisy roommates are away. But today, it feels like something is missing. First, I think it’s just Cece’s absence. Her comforting familiarity. But then I realize…
It’s the cat.
“Blue?” I call, walking into the living room.
Nothing.
No purring, no thud of a furry missile launching off the back of the couch to tackle my feet. Just stillness.
I check the usual places. Behind the armchair. Under the coffee table. In the bathroom, where he likes to scratch the shit out of the mat. Nothing.
“Dude,” I mutter, louder now. “Not funny.”
Still nothing.
I’m not panicking. Not really. But there’s a cold pinch of something under my ribs as I check the laundry room, then the space behind the fridge. All clear.
Finally, I check my room. The light’s off, but the door’s cracked. I nudge it open, scanning the floor. The closet is open a crack, so I step over, swinging the door open, heart racing.
That’s when I see it.
Bluebeard is curled up in the corner of my closet, nose buried in the folds of a piece of clothing.
I don’t leave clothing on the floor, but when I lean down, I realize it’s one of Luna’s hoodies.
The gray one she left here after her last overnight stay.
It’s got frayed cuffs and a faint coffee stain on the hem.
My heartbeat slows down, and I take five deep breaths to stave off the panic. He’s safe.
He’s asleep, paws tucked under his chin, breathing slow and even. There’s a contented rumble coming from him. I crouch down, reaching toward him slowly.
“Really?” I whisper. “Almost gave me a heart attack there, dude.”
He shifts but doesn’t move. Just burrows deeper into the hoodie like he misses her.
I sit back on my heels, and I’m right back there.
Back in her car, helping load donation bins into the trunk while she told me explicit details about every single cat at the rescue.
At her place, watching her kiss the top of Celeste’s head while she was eating breakfast. Then laughing at the look of disgust on Celeste’s face.
At the photo shoot when that kitten got tangled in her hair.
I press my hand over my face. Because the truth is, I’ve been walking around like I lost something. But it’s not something I’m going to find around the house. Because it’s her.
It’s always been her.
I settle down next to the cat while he sleeps. He shifts, lets out a little contented grumble, then settles again. Still curled into Luna’s hoodie like it’s the safest place in the world.
I rest my head back against the wall and close my eyes.
There’s a smell in the fabric that still hasn’t faded. That warm, grounded scent I’d learned to pick out in crowds before I even realized I was looking for it. A mix of clean linen, cheap lip balm, and the faintest trace of whatever body spray she kept in her gym bag. Something soft and sweet.
I breathe it in, and for a second, I feel her again.
Not the Luna from the livestreams or the viral comments or the clipped, cruel soundbite that won’t stop playing in the back of my head.
The real one.
The woman who shows up for her sister without needing applause. Who shows up for her family and her teammates but doesn’t ask for help when she needs it. Sound familiar?
She never needed me. She could have rocked that social media campaign and won the donor over all on her own. But she chose me anyway.
Until I gave her a hundred reasons not to. I should’ve called her. And when she didn’t answer the phone, I should have showed up at her door. Should’ve told her the truth when it still had time to mean something.
Instead, I froze. I told myself I was waiting for the right time, for the right way, for her to make the first move.
But all I really did was hide.
I let my dad win. Gave in to all those fears that have been building up inside me since I was little.
That I’m not good enough. I don’t deserve happiness.
I haven’t done anything to earn it. I let everything I’ve always been terrified of call the shots while I sat back and convinced myself I was being strategic.
And now?
Now, all I have is an empty apartment, a pissed-off athletic department, and a cat curled up on a hoodie that doesn’t belong to me anymore. Not to mention the list of things I should’ve said that won’t stop repeating like a broken record in my head.
I scrub a hand down my face, press the heels of my palms into my eyes until stars burst behind my eyelids.
My throat is tight, but my chest is tighter. I look down at Bluebeard, who lifts his head and blinks at me slowly, like he already knows.
“You miss her too, huh?”
His only response is a louder purr. I reach down, press a hand gently to his back, fingers brushing the folds of her hoodie.
My voice is low. Barely a whisper.
“I want her back.”
And this time, I don’t just want it.
I need it.