Chapter 16 #2
“I’ve been trying to protect both of us,” I say. “Trying to carry both his pain and mine. But it’s like all I did was enable him. Like he never healed because he just used me as a shield to hide behind, and I let him.”
My fingers twist the edge of the blanket.
“I used to think if I just held on a little longer, he’d wake up.
Like he’d see me standing there in front of him.
He’d one day believe he was worth fighting for and he’d stop trying to destroy everyone and everything in his path.
But that’s not how it works. You can’t outlove someone’s self-hatred. ”
I swallow. “I want him to get help. Real help. But he won’t. Not as long as I’m there to cushion the fall.”
Skye squeezes my thigh. “He’s needed to hit rock bottom for years. Maybe this time, he’ll finally feel it.”
I nod, slowly.
“I still hope he heals,” I whisper, no longer fighting the tears falling down my face. “He deserves to heal.”
Skye interrupts. “Tori—”
“No, Skye. Don’t.” I stop her. “I’m serious.
Yes, he’s an asshole. And yes, he has chosen, time and time again, to hurt me and belittle me and take out every bit of pain inside himself on me and his brother and whoever else is around him.
But that doesn’t change the fact that he is a goddamn human being.
He is a person worthy of love and a full life.
He is broken, in need of help and healing, and just because I am walking away from him and this marriage does not mean I believe for even one second that he deserves anything less than that. ”
She nods, not daring to interrupt again.
My voice wavers, faltering under the weight of my hope for Chase’s future and my fear that reality and hope are two very, very different things. “I hope he gets to live a full life. I do. I just know now—I’m not the one who can give it to him.”
Skye reaches over and laces her fingers through mine.
“You’ve bled enough for him,” she says. “Now it’s your turn to heal.”
Skye doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to. Her hand is still wrapped around mine, thumb brushing lazy arcs over my knuckles like she’s grounding me to the moment—to the reality that I’m allowed to choose something else. Something better. Even if it terrifies me.
“I don’t even know what it’s going to feel like,” I whisper. “Waking up without him. Living each day without the constant need to protect myself from whatever shit flies out of his mouth at any given moment.”
“You’ll love it. And, you’ll also probably hate it,” she says, not unkindly. “At first.”
I smile a little. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“I’m serious. You’re going to feel like your skin doesn’t fit. Like you’ve stepped out of the life you were cast in and now you’re standing there naked on stage. But that feeling fades. The emptiness starts to feel like… space.”
“Space for what?”
“Whatever the hell you want,” she says. “Your own thoughts. Peace. The kind of quiet that doesn’t come with consequences.”
God, I want that.
I lean my head back against the couch and close my eyes.
“I think I’ll miss his voice,” I say quietly. “Even when he was cruel, there was something about the way he said my name. Like I was his tether to the world.”
Skye doesn’t answer right away. When she does, her voice is soft. “Maybe you were. But you shouldn’t have to be someone’s anchor if they’re just going to drag you under.”
That one hits somewhere deep.
I open my eyes, blinking against the sudden sting.
“He’s never been okay,” I say. “Not really. Not since the beginning. I used to think he just needed more time. More love. Like I could patch the holes if I just stretched myself thin enough. But I was never the solution. Just a distraction.”
“Yeah,” Skye says. “A convenient one. Because if he focused on your flaws—real or imagined—he didn’t have to look at his own.”
The weight of it settles heavy in my chest.
“I was fifteen when we met,” I say. “Can you believe that? Fifteen. And I made it my mission to save him.”
“I was there. I remember. And you weren’t equipped for that. No one is. Not even now.”
“I didn’t want to give up on him.”
“I know.” Skye nods. “You’re not giving up. You’re choosing yourself. And I hate that it took this long for you to believe you could.”
We sit in the quiet for a while. Just breathing.
“I done word vomiting. Is there ice cream in the freezer?” I say after a minute.
Skye’s already on her feet. “IS. THERE. ICE. CREAM. IN. THE. FREEZER. What the hell kind of house do you think this is?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. You arrived at the same time I did.”
“Yeah. From the Gilmores’ house. I had dinner over there tonight and already stocked the fridge earlier today. And even if I hadn’t—there’s always ice cream in this house. My dad treats pints of Ben & Jerry’s like stock options.”
She disappears into the kitchen and returns a minute later with two pints and a pair of mismatched spoons. “Half Baked or Cherry Garcia?”
I reach for the first one without thinking. “If you know the answer, why do you ask?”
“Because I’m committed to the illusion of choice.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes, curled up on opposite ends of the couch like we’re twenty again and staying up late to dissect dreams we didn’t know would unravel the way they did.
“Do you think he’ll hate me?” I ask eventually.
“Chase?”
I nod.
“He’ll pretend he does,” she says. “Because that’s easier than admitting he lost the one person who never gave up on him.”
I stab my spoon into the pint. “He’s going to go ballistic.”
“Maybe he needs to.”
I glance at her.
“I mean it,” she says. “Let him rage. Let him fall apart. He’s never had to face himself. Not really. Maybe this is what it takes. You stepping away.”
I swallow hard. “I just… I want him to find peace. Even if it’s without me.”
Skye leans forward, rests her elbows on her knees.
“You can’t build your healing around his potential,” she says. “You’ve already tried that. You gave everything you had, and then some. And maybe, someday, he’ll do the work. Maybe he’ll even thank you. But that part’s not yours to carry anymore.”
It’s both freeing and devastating. I let it settle in my bones.
We finish our ice cream, the room thick with unspoken things.
Skye sets her empty pint on the coffee table, then stretches her arms overhead with a soft, contented groan. “Alright. Let’s go. Bedtime.”
I lift a brow, still wrapped in my blanket. “You’re not gonna make me sleep on the couch like some stray you found on the porch?”
She snorts. “Please. Like I’d pass up the chance to relive our glory days of sharing a bed and fighting over boy band soulmates until two in the morning.”
I smile—small, but genuine. It slips out before I can stop it, catching me off guard with how right it feels.
“Come on,” she says, standing and holding out a hand like I need help remembering the way.
I don’t. I know this house as well as she does.
Still, I take it.
We walk down the hallway side by side, steps softened by the rug worn threadbare in the center. Skye’s bedroom door is already open. She doesn’t even bother with the light.
The lavender walls are still covered in old posters—concerts we never actually went to, cheesy motivational quotes we taped up for finals week and never took down.
Some of them are curling at the corners now, browned slightly at the edges.
A corkboard still hangs near the dresser, filled with pushpins and fading snapshots.
Right in the center is our senior year photo booth strip, still perfectly intact—Skye mid-laugh, me sticking my tongue out like a girl who hadn’t yet learned how much damage could hide behind a smile, Alis pushing up her glasses that never seemed to stay put.
Three unstoppable best friends. And I haven’t even told one of mine that my life is literally falling apart.
Part of me feels guilty about that, but with everything she’s had going on and the happiness that has finally come her way I didn’t want to spoil it with my own sob story.
Alis will find out soon enough. I’ll explain everything when I get to Grand River in a few weeks.
I sit at the edge of the bed while Skye digs through the dresser, tossing me a pair of pajama shorts so old the logo is barely legible.
“Camp Long Pine,” I read aloud, squinting at the faded print. “Pretty sure these predate my first real kiss.”
“Vintage,” she says, completely unbothered. “You’re welcome.”
We change without commentary, the silence between us soft, easy. Skye climbs into bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin and patting the space beside her like I haven’t claimed it a dozen times before.
I slide under the covers, the mattress dipping in the exact spot I remember. I stare at the ceiling for a while, the fan whirling above us.
There’s something safe in this room. Something steady. Like all the versions of us that once existed here still linger.
I can’t sleep, and when I finally speak my voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. “You remember how you swore you were going to follow in Belle’s footsteps?”
Skye hums, turning slightly toward me. “Study abroad, fall in love with some dreamy foreigner, elope by twenty-one? Oh yeah. That was the grand plan.”
“You never talk about Italy,” I say. “Five months is a long time. You really didn’t meet anyone?”
She huffs, but her voice stays light. “Not anyone worth mentioning.”
“Come on,” I tease, nudging her leg with mine beneath the covers. “Nobody special?”
“I’ve already told you,” she says with a lazy shrug. “I found my true love in Italy, and that was espresso. The boys were a dime a dozen.” She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, “And I definitely sampled at least a dozen.”
I laugh—not at all surprised—but I don’t push for more. If there is something she’s not saying, I’ll let her keep it tucked away. We all have corners we don’t invite people into. Some truths only come out when you’re ready to let them go.
The room settles into stillness again, the kind that feels like a held breath. And then it creeps in—that dull ache in my chest. The one I keep shoving back down, pretending I’m brave enough to handle all of this without breaking.
“I don’t know how to be single,” I whisper, staring at the ceiling like it might hold the answer.
Skye shifts beside me, her voice calm. “You don’t have to know yet. Right now, just be free.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“I’m scared I won’t know how to exist without him.”
“You will.”
My voice breaks a little. “But what if I miss him so much I forget why I left?”
The bed shifts slightly as she turns toward me. “Then I’ll remind you.”
Of course she will. Her reassurance is simple. Solid. No hesitation.
Skye doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t need to.
And finally—finally—I fall asleep.
Not without fear of the future, but with the calming reassurance that no matter what happens, at least I’ll have my friends at my side to help me through it.