Chapter 29
AVA - A DISASTER
Remi was already home when I got in.
I had gone for a long drive after leaving the station, trying to clear my head and see a path forward.
I took one look at her and knew this wasn't good.
She wasn't sitting. Or pacing. She was just…
standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the fridge like it had offended her, still in her dress clothes from the event.
Hair half-up in a clip I didn't even know they sold anymore.
Heels kicked off. That wild, unreadable storm brewing just behind her eyes.
She didn’t speak when I closed the door.
I didn’t either.
Not until I dropped my bag, peeled off my jacket, and poured myself a glass of water with a hand that wouldn’t stop shaking.
“Did she call you?” I asked, voice low.
Remi nodded once. “Lia. From the station. They let her use the desk phone. She was crying.”
“I’m sorry I couldn't do more.”
She shook her head, and it wasn’t the kind that meant it’s okay. It was the kind that meant this world will never be okay.
I crossed the room and leaned back against the counter beside her.
“I thought about turning the car around,” she said after a moment. “I was halfway to the venue when I got the call. And all I could think was... not her. Please not her.”
My throat clenched. “I know.”
She looked at me then. “She trusted us.”
“I know.”
Another long silence passed, the kind that settles between people who’ve seen too much, who’ve been asked to bear too much with too little.
The first cool winds of September had slipped in that week.
The evenings were darker, sharper, and carrying the kind of chill that warned summer was on its way out.
It was the time of year when everything felt fragile, like the edges of the world were fraying just a little.
I had caught myself thinking about dates too much lately.
How close Remi’s birthday was. How the anniversary after that lurked just beyond it, like an old scar you still flinched to touch.
I hadn’t said it out loud, not to her, but the thought clung to me.
"She reminds me so much of Jenny." It came out on a shaky exhale.
Remi sat on the floor without ceremony, pulling her knees to her chest. I slid down next to her, shoulder to shoulder. That familiar feeling of holding each other up without even trying.
“Why do we keep doing this?” she whispered. “Why do we keep pretending we’re not just building sandcastles in a tide pool?”
“Because sometimes the tide doesn’t win,” I said. “Sometimes, we get to hold the line.”
Remi laughed once, brittle. “You sound like Jack.”
That caught me sideways. I waited. And sure enough, the rest came tumbling out.
“I miss him,” she said. “But I can’t, I can’t, be my mother.”
“You’re not... and Remi, he isn't gone yet.”
She didn’t look at me. “You didn’t know her the way I did. She clung. She dragged my father down with her. She called it love, but it was control. It was fear. And he resented her every day of his life for staying.”
“That’s not what you and Jack are,” I said.
“I’m not sure Jack agrees.”
“You love him?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Then talk to him.”
She finally turned, eyes fierce. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” I said. “But this limbo isn’t fair to either of you. You need to talk to him. Or let him go.”
Her lips parted, a retort loading… but then she blinked. A slow inhale.
“That’s rich coming from you,” she muttered.
I tilted my head. “Excuse me?”
Remi raised a brow. “Have you talked to Harlan since the station?”
My silence said enough.
Her voice softened. “Has he called?”
I shook my head.
And that was the part that stung the most. Not the fight. Not the fallout. But the silence that came after. The absence of effort.
I had bared myself to him, shared my insecurities, and he had told me he could weather my storm. But now I was thinking he was just like everyone else who told me that and didn't know what they were agreeing to.
The kitchen light hummed above us, the kind of mundane sound that only made the weight pressing down heavier.
In a month, we’d be buying Remi a cake she probably wouldn’t want, pretending celebration could distract from grief.
And right after, we’d be reliving the day the bottom fell out of our world.
I could already feel it pressing in, a countdown neither of us had asked for but couldn’t stop.
Because he was still free.
Remi sighed, leaned her head against mine. “We’re a disaster.”
I let out a breath. “We’ve always been a disaster.”
“But we’re still here.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Still trying to figure out how to love people without burning ourselves down in the process.”
Remi reached over and took my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. “Even if everything else falls apart, this doesn’t.”
“No,” I whispered. “This never does.”
"I love you, Ava."
"I love you, Remi."
She was quiet for a moment and then said, "You know I hate it when mommy and daddy fight."
I was stunned into silence, confused about what she was talking about. And then it clicked... the traitor was talking about Harlan and me.
I scoffed and gave her a shove.
She righted herself with a sad laugh and then leaned back into me.
We sat there until the world went quiet again—just the two of us. Still whole, still holding the line, still fighting.
Even if the people we loved didn’t quite know how to fight for us in return.
Not yet.