average human’s Reviews > Twisted Trails > Status Update

She’s worth that. She’s worth all of it.
I jog forward and rip open the door that just fell shut without knocking, and Alaina spins around with wide eyes, caught mid-step.
“What are you—” she starts, but I don’t let her finish.
I grab her good hand and pull her toward me. Her mouth opens, a soft gasp slipping out, but I see the tear first, trailing hot and lonely down her cheek.
My thumb catches it, then my lips follow, pressing against her skin. “I’m going to fix this, baby girl.”
She jerks back, eyes blazing. “What the hell are you⁠—”
But I’m already moving, striding into the kitchen, my heart a fucking war drum in my chest. Luc’s mom startles, Piper and Fisher freeze, and Luc stiffens.
Dane turns from the table, frowning as soon as he sees me. “You guys fixed your stuff?”
I look him in the face. My best friend, my brother in everything but blood, and I tear our friendship into shreds.
“I’m in love with your little sister.”
Silence falls like a damn avalanche. In my peripheral vision, I see Alaina shift closer to Luc, almost like she’s bracing for impact, but I keep looking at Dane.
He rises slowly, and every inch of him radiates disbelief. “What the fuck did you just say?”
No turning back now, Finn.
“I love her.” The words leave my mouth as I turn to find her caramel eyes. Alaina’s lips part on a gasp, and one hand lifts to her mouth, fingers trembling. Then I look back at Dane. “And I’m not sorry for it.”
My voice doesn’t shake, even if everything inside me is burning.
A vein throbs at Dane’s forehead, the one that always used to do that when he was on the phone with his father. Ah, fuck.
“She kissed me the night you asked me to follow her, and I kissed her back. It changed my life, Dane. I fell for her that night.”
“Mon Dieu,” Élise mutters somewhere behind me.
Dane’s jaw clenches. “She’s the girl you were talking about?”
“Yeah,” I admit, having no excuses left in me.
He takes a step toward me, fury radiating off him, but I lift my hand.
“I’m not done yet.”
“Jesus,” Fisher mutters under his breath, but Piper’s sharp “Shut up” slices through the tension.
“I kissed her again at Luc’s birthday. That night we all went out.”
Dane’s face twists. “She’s my little sister! You’re ten years older, what the hell were you thinking?”
“It gets worse.”
“Finn…” Alaina’s voice is cautious, like she’s only just realized how far I’m willing to go, but I’m past the point of no return.
If I’m going down, I’m going down with all the truth.
“I took her virginity in the gondola before the race. I’m the reason she crashed, because she thinks I told her it was a mista⁠—”
Dane doesn’t even let me finish.
His fist connects with my face so fast it’s just light, then darkness. My nose shatters with a crack, and pain explodes behind my eyes as the world spins sideways. I hit the floor hard, ass first, a wet gush spilling from my nose.
Yep, I deserve this. Every fucking bit of it.
“Dane! Stop!” Alaina’s voice tears through the static in my head, but I can’t see her, only his fist pulling back again.
He’s on me in a flash, fury in motion, ready to throw another punch, but then Delacroix drags him off me, stepping between us.
“Please, Dane! Please don’t!” Alaina is clinging to Dane’s arm, sobbing. I’ve never heard her cry like this, never seen her plead.
Delacroix extends a hand to me, and I take it with the one not clamped over my nose. He hauls me upright and only lets go when I stop swaying on my feet.
Piper is now holding onto Dane’s other arm, holding him back with Alaina, while Fisher slots himself beside Delacroix, who gives me a once-over and grimaces. “You’re bleeding like hell, Papi.”
Yeah, I can feel it. Or rather, the pain, because agony is coiling behind my face.
No bike crash ever hurt this badly, and I’m not new to pain.
“Oh cherié.” Élise appears in front of me, cradling my face with cool hands. “It’s broken. You need to go to the hospital.”
I shake her off as gently as I can, making my brain hurt too. My hand wipes at the blood, but it only smears. I probably look like the wreck I am.
Dane is still roaring behind them. “Get him the fuck out of here or I swear⁠—”
I’ve never seen him like this, not even with Raine when we were teens.
But this is different.
This is betrayal with a name. My name.
I glance at Alaina, who’s still crying, tears streaming down her pretty face. She looks like her heart is in pieces, and all of it traces back to me.
I did that to her.
To them.
To the Crews siblings—my family. I can see the hurt and betrayal in both their eyes.
But I swear, I’m going to fix this.
“I’m sorry,” is all I manage to mutter, though, eyes still on Alaina as Dane tries to breathe through his rage.
She shakes her head at me when I turn, leaving blood on the floor, broken trust in the air, and the only people who ever made me feel like I belonged in my wake as I almost run out of the house.
I stumble down the driveway, the cold air biting at the blood, which is still slick across my face. My hands shake, my ribs ache, and my head is pounding from more than just the punch.
The silence out here feels like judgment, and every crunch of gravel under my shoes sounds too loud.
I deserved that hit and probably a hell of a lot more, but I still can’t breathe right from watching her cry for me.
Reaching the end of the driveway, I drag my hand down my face and flinch when my fingers come away slick with fresh blood.
I should call a cab to the hospital. Get checked out. Maybe let them stitch up what Dane cracked open.
But first, this.
Pulling out my phone, I blink through the ache in my head as I scroll through contacts. It takes longer than it should to find the name I need.
Why not ruin my life completely today?
Kevin’s name stares back at me, and for a moment, my thumb hovers.
Then I hit call.
FaceTime rings twice before his face appears, and his brows go up instantly. “Whoa. What happened to you?” I open my mouth, but he cuts me off. “Wait, wait. I’ll grab Rach.”
A few seconds later, he’s back, and Rachel leans into view beside him, all bright smiles until she really looks, and her expression crumples.
“Oh my God. Finn, what the hell?”
I try to smile, but it tugs wrong and sends a lightning bolt of pain through my face. “Yeah. Looks about as bad as it feels.”
“Did you crash?” she asks, voice gone small.
“No,” I admit. “These are the consequences of my own actions. That’s a life lesson I’m going to pass on to you two.”
Kevin mutters something under his breath, but Rachel is already frowning. “You look like someone took a tire iron to your face. You need stitches or something?”
“Probably,” I say, shifting the phone a little. “But I needed to call you first.”
Rachel tilts her head. “Wait… before a hospital?”
“Yeah.” I exhale. “Because it’s fucking time I tell you this. The funding didn’t come through.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Kevin’s mouth tightens. “Shit.”
“And telling us that couldn’t wait until you weren’t actively bleeding anymore?” Rachel asks, but she looks disappointed as well.
“Listen,” I say, gripping the phone tighter. “I fucked up. I thought I could make it happen this year, and I couldn’t. I’m sorry it won’t happen next season, but I swear to you both, I’m not giving up. I’ll get you to the circuit the year after. If I have to pitch you to another team myself, I will.”
Rachel’s bottom lip wobbles. “I don’t want just any team. I want ours. Yours.”
“I know, Rach.” My throat closes a little. “Me, too, but we’ll make it happen for you guys, even if it takes another year. I can’t say how yet, or when, but I’ll figure it out. I promise.”
I mean it with my whole chest. No matter how, I will get those two on the circuit.
“So, business as usual.” Kevin nods. “We keep practicing until we’re there.”
That’s it. That’s all he says, no cussing me out.
I don’t deserve them.
But I don’t deserve a lot of things right now.
My nose burns—probably more from tears than the punch this time—and I choke a little on the emotion rising in my throat. “I’m so sorry I let you down.”
Rachel leans closer, her voice thick. “It’s not over, right? It’s just a rock garden. You’re one of the best at those.”
God. These kids.
I swallow hard. “You’re right.”
“Go get that face checked,” Rachel orders. “We’ll be here.”
“And keep us posted, yeah?” Kevin adds. “We’ll watch your next race.”
I shake my head. “There won’t be a next. I’m gonna end my career.”
They both freeze.
“What?” Rachel says.
“You’re joking, right?” Kevin echoes.
I end the call without another word, because I can’t stand the sound of their heartbreak on top of my own.

20%

Luc
Alaina cried herself to sleep in my arms.
Her good hand was fisted tight in the fabric of my hoodie, like she was holding onto something that wouldn’t break apart on her, unlike everything else today. And merde, did she cry. Not the soft, silent kind from last time I held her. This was shaking, breathless, throat-wrecking sobs. The kind that punches holes in your chest just from hearing it.
And all for that asshole.
Now I’m sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows on my knees, just watching her breathe. She’s finally still, cheeks blotchy, lashes wet, and I hate the way she curls in on herself like she’s bracing for another blow, even in sleep.
Fucking Greer.
He said he took her virginity in the gondola, like that was a completely normal, totally chill sentence to drop in front of a goddamn audience. Like we were all just going to nod and clap and go “Ooh, romantic.”
And yeah, part of me wanted to deck him myself. It wasn’t the sex part triggering me, although fuck him, but the stupidity. The fact that he was throwing her pain out like confetti, and the way she crumbled like her whole spine gave out the second those words hit the air. She didn’t even make a sound. Just collapsed inward.
And he didn’t even get through all of it before Dane’s fist met his face.
But he showed up. He stood there, eyes locked on Dane, knowing full well what was about to happen and said it anyway—no soft version or sugarcoating.
No bullshit.
He could’ve lied, dodged, or stayed away and saved his nose, but he didn’t. That took balls, and merde, I hate that it counts for something, but it does. I don’t know what the hell it says about him, and I sure as shit don’t know what it says about me—the fact that I can sit here and give him credit in my head, while still fantasizing about knocking his perfect white teeth into the next arrondissement.
I glance at Alaina again, still curled up, and she looks so small.
So fucking petite.
“You deserve better than him,” I whisper.
She deserves the fucking moon, but maybe that idiot finally knows it too.
I’ll never be the one who makes her cry like this. Jamais. I’d rather rip my own heart out than be the reason hers shatters. I’ll be the one who lets her fall apart without needing to pick up the pieces. The one who stays quiet when the sobs come hard.
And that starts here with acknowledging the mess and accepting that there’s a part of her heart that still beats for Greer and maybe always will. I’m still going to be here, standing right beside the pieces, not asking her to choose, just asking to be close enough to matter.
She said she was stupid for him but stupid for me too.
I am so fucking stupid for her.
The kind of stupid that stays up all night just to watch her sleep more easily. That would carry every ounce of her pain if it meant she could breathe free for one goddamn minute.
So yeah, I’ll be here.
Even if someone else is too.
I reach out, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead, when the flash of pink from my hoodie sleeve catches my eye, and just like that, I’m back outside the hospital with Mason, standing there in the cold, my hoodie drowning him.
That look in his eyes still haunts me as well as the texts we sent. The ones I didn’t overthink, even when I should have, because the flirting came as easily as the insults once did, like we were born speaking the same stupid, stubborn language.
It’s always been that way with him.
Gravity and fire.
And putain, if that doesn’t make something click.
Wanting her so much it fucking aches doesn’t erase those complicated feelings for Mason, no matter how much I might wish it would. In the same way that wanting Greer might not mean she doesn’t want me just as much.
It’s messy, but it’s not wrong. Not if it’s honest.
Toulouse stirs, snuffling as he stretches, one paw catching the edge of my ear. He’s been out cold for hours, curled inside my hood like a pocket-size heater. I lift him gently and set him on the bed, thinking he might curl up in the blanket or nosedive into the pillows. But no. He pads straight up to Alaina, headbutts her cheek once, and settles in by her face as close as he can get.
I let out a quiet huff of a laugh because, of course, he does.
My stomach growls loudly, and I wince at the sound. I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and my body is starting to revolt. Easing carefully up from the mattress, not wanting to wake them, I move fast, but she doesn’t stir, neither of them do, not even when I make it to the door and glance back.
Toulouse is still tucked in like a little sentinel beside her, and Alaina’s brow is smooth now, like she finally found some sense of peace. Her lips are parted, and my chest aches just looking at her beautiful face.
Fuck, I want her.
And more than that, I want her to be okay.
I slip out the door and pull it softly shut behind me, before heading toward the kitchen, but when I’m farther down the hallway, I hear raised voices.
“Dane, please,” my maman pleads.
What the fuck? Is Greer back?
“No! I won’t let this happen,” Dane snaps.
I quicken my pace, entering the kitchen to find Dane, Piper, Otis, and my mother all standing in a tense standoff with Alaina’s father.
Perfect.
As if this day wasn’t already bad enough.
Piper is holding onto Dane’s arm again, trying to calm him, but he looks even worse than earlier today with Finn. Maman is standing between Dane and his father, her hands raised in a soothing gesture.
“What the hell is going on?” I snap, stepping fully into the room. I hate the way my mother is planted between them, playing shield while their eyes throw fire at each other.
Dane turns to me. “Our dad thinks he can just barge in here and take Alaina with him.”
I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at Ambrose. “Essaie, vieux con.”
Try it, old man.
His eyes narrow. Maybe he understood me.
Good.
Ambrose straightens his spine and squares his shoulders. “She’s my daughter.”
“That does not make her yours to control,” I snap back.
Dane steps forward, but Piper tightens her grip on his arm. “Don’t, you’ll make it worse.”
“Let’s all take a breath.” My mother places a hand on Dane’s shoulder, but I’m done breathing, and I’m so done standing by while everyone puts more shit on my girl, so I step up next to Dane, siding with him.
I’m done letting people hurt her.
Dane’s dad scoffs when he sees us forming a line of defense. “You’re all being unreasonable. She has broken fingers! She needs to be seen in a proper hospital, not kept in some backwoods cabin with a bunch of overgrown children playing bodyguards. And after that, she needs recovery and physio, not more races and this nonsense. This farce needs to stop before it all explodes in her face.”
So, Dane told him why she’s doing this.
Somehow, it bugs me that he knows before I do, but at the same time, it wasn’t Alaina telling him, which helps. I want to hear it from her.
“Now is the time to pull out,” Ambrose adds. “Before there are any real repercussions.”
“Oh, and her dying isn’t a repercussion?” Dane snaps back, and my head whips toward him.
What?
His dad echoes my thoughts. “What did you just say?”
Dane is shaking now, but this time it’s not with rage, and when I look more closely, I see that it’s with something worse.
Fear.
Piper seems to notice it, too, and tightens her grip on his arm, holding him close while asking him the same question, although much gentler. “What are you saying, Dane?”
“I can’t,” he breathes, voice cracking, and shoulders trembling. “I fucking can’t.”
Something inside me drops. I’ve only known Dane for a few weeks, but he’s always seemed solid as granite, almost unbothered. The calm in the chaos, but right now, he’s unraveling, and everything he’s been holding together is splitting at the seams. I don’t think he knows how to stop it.
Greer showing up and spilling everything didn’t just rip the scab off Alaina, apparently, it cracked something in Dane too.
Ambrose shifts, scoffing like this is all some overreaction. “What the hell are you talking about? It’s a hospital. She’s not going to die just because I want a second opinion on her fing⁠—”
“She will!” Dane cuts in, and his eyes are wide and wet. “She’ll take her own life if you take her with you.”
The words land, and the room just stops. Like all the air got sucked out, and I swear the only thing I can hear is my heartbeat.
And suddenly, I’m not standing in this room anymore. I’m thirteen, and the phone is ringing. Then my mother is sobbing, and I’m staring at the door he walked out of two hours earlier, wondering how the hell we didn’t see it coming.
I dig my nails into my palms, trying to stay here. Now. Not then.
But it’s hard—putain, it’s hard—not to fall into that old, cold space in my chest. The one I’ve spent years pretending isn’t there anymore.
Ambrose’s voice is a whisper now, but it’s enough to pull me back. “Why would she do that?”
Dane turns slowly, looking at all of us. His mouth opens, but the words don’t come.
Maman wraps her arms around Dane like she’s done it a thousand times, then strokes his hair and whispers softly, “Tell us, cherié. It’s okay. Tell us.”
“Alaina doesn’t want to live after this. She’s been holding on by a thread. If you take her now, if you rip this away from her before she’s done, it’ll snap, and I’ll lose her.”
Dane breaks then. Full-on sobs, body curling in on itself, and I help Maman ease him into the living room and onto the couch on autopilot because I’m still processing what he just said.
Piper sits beside him, pulls him in, and cradles him to her, letting him cry. I stand there and look toward the hallway where ma Petite sleeps, not knowing that everything out here is shifting around her.
Ambrose sinks into the armchair across from Dane, legs wide, elbows on his knees. His eyes are hard, but there’s something else there. Real fear.
So he’s not as cold as he pretends to be.
“Explain, Dane,” Ambrose demands.
Piper’s hand curls around his, but Dane doesn’t look up. His voice is quiet, watery around the edges when he finally speaks. “Do you know how hard it’s been being the one keeping her alive all these years?”
Ambrose doesn’t move. Neither do I.
Dane swallows, and it looks painful. “To be the first one she calls when it hurts too much? To sleep like shit every night for seven years because I’m scared, no, terrified, that one day I’ll wake up and she won’t? That the pain finally won? That I missed it? Missed the signs?” His jaw trembles. “You don’t know what it’s like to watch someone you love fake a smile so well, even you start believing it. Only to be reminded that she doesn’t even want to be here anymore. Because she told me, years ago, exactly how this ends.”

I feel the words like a gut punch, and where there was hunger just a few moments ago, my stomach now clamps down on nausea.
“She said once she’s done with what she came here to do, she’d be done. That she didn’t want a life after, and was only coming back to bury him, and then she’d bury herself. She’d rather die than keep living in this much pain.”
Dane keeps going when Ambrose opens his mouth to argue.
“And no, she wasn’t being dramatic. She means it. I just thought maybe if I helped her build this plan, if I believed in it enough, something would shift over the years… that she’d find a reason to stay. But nothing changed, she’s still in pain every single day, and this…” He gestures around us, at me. “This is the only thing tethering her to this world. The World Cup, the revenge, and her friends. And I’m not letting you take that from her, not when it might be the only thing keeping her alive.”
Dane starts to sob again, and Piper pulls him into her, letting him cry against her shoulder. I glance toward Ambrose, who looks as shell-shocked as I feel, then at my mother. She’s pale. Paler than I’ve seen her in years. Her hands are clutched in her lap as if she lets go, she’ll start shaking too. I don’t even think she’s breathing.
I need to move. I need air. Space. Anything.
But she stands first.
Her eyes meet mine as she walks slowly toward the kitchen, and I follow, because I can’t not.
She stops at the counter, both hands gripping the edge like she’s holding herself upright by sheer will, when I step in behind her and place my hand on her shoulder.
“You okay?” I ask, but I know the answer already.
When it comes to this topic, we’re both not okay.
She doesn’t look at me but nods faintly. “I’m just worried.”
“I know.”
She finally turns, and when her eyes find mine, she looks like she’s trying to see past me, perhaps searching for the little boy I used to be—the one who cried for months when my father didn’t come home, and my mother turned into a ghost because of it.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
I could lie, could pretend I’m still the brand, the unshakable, cocky Luc Delacroix™.
But I can’t, not with her.
“No,” I whisper, and my voice doesn’t even sound like mine.
She pulls me in without a word, wraps her arms around me, and I let her, before I press my chin to the top of her head, my eyes burning.
“I’m going to talk to her,” she promises into my chest. “I’m going to do my best. Those kids didn’t have a mother, and their father? He’s… well, let’s be honest, he’s fucking useless.” I huff a humorless laugh, and she leans back just enough to look up at me, brushing hair from my eyes. “Maybe she just needs to see there are people in her life who love her, who care, and aren’t going anywhere.”
I shake my head, jaw tight. “That didn’t save Dad.”
Her face folds, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she strokes my cheek, and that’s when I feel the wet track of a tear I didn’t know had fallen.
“That’s true, mon soleil. But your father never said a word. He never let us in. Never showed us how deep it went. He smiled, remember? Every day. With Alaina, we have something we didn’t have back then.”
I blink, trying to see through the blur. “And that is?”
“She told someone. Alaina told Dane. She asked someone to see her pain.” Maman grips my hand tightly. “I think that means, maybe, somewhere inside her, there’s still a part that wants to stay. She just doesn’t know how with everything so heavy on her shoulders.”
Merde.
The tears come fast now, and I can’t stop them, can’t breathe around the thought of losing her, of finding her too late, or feeling the air empty out of a room that still smells like her.
Because I can’t. I can’t lose her too.
“We’re not letting her slip through our fingers, okay?” Maman says fiercely, her voice the kind of steady that means she’s holding it all back for my sake. “I will not lose anybody else to this. I swear it, Luc. I won’t.”
And I won’t either.
I will do anything and everything in my power to make her life livable. I’ll go with her to every doctor, fight every fight with her, fight her father, be there for her brother, make sure Mason will fucking forgive her, and yeah, I’ll do my best to help Greer fix his fuckup.
I’d rather share her heart than watch it stop beating.

22%

Alaina
My body is heavy, weighed down in a way that tells me the crying must’ve worn me out completely.
A hand brushes across my forehead, and the motion is so tender it lifts some of that weight, just enough that for a moment, still half-tangled in sleep, I don’t question it.
Of course, it’s Luc.
My ridiculous, comforting, pink-hoodied chaos of a man. My emotional support himbo. The one who held me after I broke open like a dam, who didn’t flinch or look away when I cried like I was dying, all thanks to Finn Greer getting his face pummeled by my brother.
Fuck.
I push the thought away and smile at the touch, and lean into the hand without hesitation, like some part of me already knows it’s safe.
Except it isn’t, because when I finally blink my eyes open, it’s not Luc sitting on the edge of the bed.
It’s my father’s warmth I was leaning into. Something I have never felt before.
Everything inside me tenses, recoiling fast and instinctively as I push back until my back hits the headboard. I wince as pain shoots through my fingers and up my arm, making me hiss through my teeth.
“I’m sorry,” Dad says quickly, hands held up like I might bolt. His voice is soft, almost unsure. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Yeah. Definitely slept longer than I meant to, even if it was just a nap. The pain medication has run its course, and reality is seeping back in, one sharp edge at a time. I stare at him, my heart pounding for all the wrong reasons, and it takes a moment before I can force the words out. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes trace over my face, not with judgment for once, but with something harder to pin down. “You’re looking more and more like your mother.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
“Dane always looked like her, too, but you… you’re the spitting image of her. I forget, sometimes. Then I see you like this, and it hits me again, even with your short hair.”
“Yeah,” I say, managing to keep my voice neutral. “I’ve seen pictures.”
When I still had my long hair, you could have thought we were twins.
He smiles faintly, like the memory of her lives in the only warm place inside him, but then his words confirm it. “She was everything to me, you know.”
I frown at him, trying to find the trap. We never talk about Mom. Not ever. The scraps I know all came from Dane, who was ten when she died, her death leaving a much bigger mark on him than me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you that, but she was the love of my life.” He looks down at his hands, turning them over like he’s still trying to find the right shape for what he’s feeling. “She wasn’t just beautiful. She was light. The kind that fills a room and makes you believe in things again. She made people better just by being around. Me included.”
There’s a long pause, one I don’t interrupt.
“When she died…” he continues, “… it was like all the good in my life disappeared with her. Everything just dulled. Went gray. And it never came back.”
This is the part where I know I’m supposed to feel something—some wave of understanding or long-delayed empathy. I should feel sorry that he lost the love of his life, and that the woman who made him smile died young and left him with nothing but two kids and endless grief.
But I don’t because Dane and I were still there.
Still breathing.
Still needing a father.
What we got instead was silence, distance, and a man who lived like we were ghosts walking through his house, not children begging for scraps of affection.
So I cross my arms over my chest while he shares this version of his heart I’ve never seen before, even though I already know what kind of man he is.
I grew up knowing, and I believe him, that whatever part of him she made better died with her too.
“I never wanted children,” he says, almost absently.
I snort, a sharp sound that breaks the tension for a split second. “Yeah,” I mutter. “No kidding.”
He just nods. “Your mom did. She wanted a family, and I said okay, one child. I thought I could manage one. So we had Dane, and she was… she was radiant. I’ve never seen her so happy. Seeing her like that, loving like that, made me happy too. Then, ten years later, somehow, she got pregnant again.”
I’ve known what that meant for a long time. You don’t plan to have a child ten years after your first. I was an accident.
A mistake from the first breath I ever took.
He looks at me then, almost smiling. “She said you were a gift. She used to call you her miracle. She loved you, Alaina. She loved you so much.”
My chest tightens at his words, and when I glance up at him, my vision blurs without warning.
“She used to say you and Dane were the best things that ever happened to her.” Then his hand drifts, landing carefully on my shin, and I’m too choked up to pull away. “Every second of your life, you were loved, Alaina.”
Tears spill over without permission, and I hate how they fall before I can stop them. I wipe them with the side of my hand, but it’s no use. They just keep coming.
“Then she was gone,” he continues, his voice cracking around the edges now too. “And I was left with a ten-year-old who didn’t understand what death was, and a baby who needed more than I knew how to give. Your mother was the perfect mom, and because of her, it didn’t matter that I was a shitty dad. I was a good husband, good to her, and she was a good enough parent for both of us.”
He shakes his head. “But once she was gone, all you were left with was a bad dad who tried.”
I drop my hand and let out a shaky huff. “You think that excuses it?”
“I didn’t say I gave my best,” he replies. “And I’m not saying it was good. I just said I tried. I tried to give you a nanny who would love you when I didn’t know how. I tried to make sure you had the education your mother would’ve wanted. I tried to make your dreams possible. All of them. I wanted you to have everything she would’ve given you.”
I shake my head as the ache swells so big that it hurts to breathe. “The only thing I wanted from you, Dad, was you. Some fucking fatherly love.”
His mouth pulls tight at the corners.
“You had that too,” he says after a long moment. “I just… I guess I’ve never been good at showing it.” He reaches for my good hand, carefully wrapping his fingers around mine. “I’m promising you, right now, from this second forward, I’m giving it my best. All of it. I’m going to be the father you deserve.”
The words hover in the air between us, and they might’ve meant more if I were still that little girl who used to sit by the door waiting for him to come home.
But I’m not, so I pull my hand back and let those words drift away on a phantom breeze.
“I wanted that father twenty years ago.”
Something flickers in his expression, regret maybe, or understanding that’s come far too late, but he doesn’t argue and doesn’t try to defend himself.
“I will always be your father…” he says instead, “… but I know now I have to earn what that means, and I’m giving it everything I’ve got to show you that I deserve that title.”
I look at him, then away again, because if I keep looking, I might cry even more, and I’m not sure if I’m crying for the little girl I used to be or the man in front of me trying, finally, to show up.
And why does he?
Why now?
He leans down slowly and presses a kiss to my temple. “I’m proud of you, Alaina,” he whispers against my skin. “And I just know your mother would be so proud of you too.” When he pulls back, I’m surprised to find his eyes are full of tears. They don’t fall as he stands, clearing his throat. “I’m heading back to DC to give you space to do what you came here to do, but know that I’m watching. I’m going to watch you take that title. And I already gave Dane the money back.”
That makes my eyebrows lift.
“I made sure you both have more than enough to get through the rest of this trip without worrying about a thing. You don’t need to stress about that. Just focus on finishing this.”
He takes a few steps toward the door, then pauses and turns back.
“If there’s anything you need, anything, I want you to call me, Alaina. You hear me? You call, and I will be there. I promise.”
“Why aren’t you telling me to come back home with you?” I ask, almost dazed from the sudden shifts in the conversation. Each time I thought I knew the line he was taking, he swerved. “Or to stop this?”
“Because you’re right,” he says simply. “You’re an adult now. You don’t need someone telling you what to do. What you need is support, and I know it took me too long, but you have mine. Full stop.” He nods once, like it’s already decided, then turns again. His hand is on the doorframe when he glances back one last time. “I love you, Alaina.”
Then he walks out, and the door closes softly behind him. I sit there, frozen because I don’t know what to do with that.
He’s never said that to me before.
Not once.
And now I don’t know whether to fall apart or hold tighter to the walls I built to survive without hearing it. So I just sit, trying to breathe through a chest that feels like it’s been cracked wide open.
It’s only seconds before I realize I can’t sit alone in this room anymore. My conflicted and confused feelings will swallow me whole. I push the covers off and swing my legs over the edge, biting down on a wince as my hand protests with a sharp sting.
Bathroom. Painkillers. Fresh air. Something.
I stumble through the motions, cold water on my face, toothpaste that tastes too minty, a fresh shirt, and a pair of jeans that tug weirdly over my still-stiff hip. It’s all a little too real, too normal after everything he just said.
After the I love you that landed twenty-four years too late.
What the hell was that?
Was this some kind of pre-death epiphany?
Maybe we should be worried. Maybe he got a diagnosis and only has two weeks to live, and this is his farewell tour. Because, honestly, that would make way more sense than whatever just happened here.
I yank open the door and step into the hallway, and immediately, something feels off. It’s way too quiet. No voices, no footsteps, not even the distant clatter of dishes or a sarcastic quip from Luc echoing down the hall. And that man cannot not be heard. It’s like he came with a built-in speaker system.
I make my way toward the kitchen, bare feet silent against the floor, and find Élise at the table, reading a magazine, a mug of tea steaming beside her. She looks up as I walk in, her face immediately warming with affection as she smiles at me.
“Hey, chérie,” she says, setting the magazine down. “Would you like some tea?”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah, thank you.”
She stands to pour it for me. “Dane and Piper went for a walk. Your dad left not long ago. Otis and Luc are at the gym.”
I freeze.
Everyone is gone?
Élise must notice, because she comes back to the table and places the tea in front of me. “I asked them to go.”
“You did?” I ask, eyebrows furrowing.
She nods. “Luc would’ve never left your side willingly, but I wanted a chance to talk to you. Alone.”
I blink at her, unsure of what I’m supposed to say, but I nod, because okay.
She reaches across the table and squeezes my forearm, carefully avoiding my cast. “How are you feeling?”
I lift the tea to my lips, giving myself a second to answer. “The pain meds are doing their job.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Her gaze meets mine, wide open and full of something I don’t recognize.
Would my mom have looked at me like this?
Would she have known to ask the right questions without saying much at all, without letting me dodge them?
Is this what having a mom would feel like?
The thought knocks something loose, and before I can stop it, my eyes fill again.
Élise stands immediately and pulls me to my feet. She doesn’t hesitate, just wraps her arms around me and tucks my head against her shoulder, one hand stroking my hair, the other rubbing gentle circles over my back.
“It’s all right,” she whispers into my ear. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’ve got you, ma belle. We all do. You’re not alone, okay? You hear me? Everything will be all right.”

Something inside me stirs as she holds me. Not the fire I’m used to—rage, adrenaline, or raw desperation—but something smaller, softer.
Hope, maybe?
Élise holds me until I stop shaking, but I have no idea why I am or when it even started. But once it eases and I take my first steady breath, she eases back. Her hand is still warm on my upper arm as she studies my face.
“Did you have a good conversation with your father?”
I huff before wiping my nose with the back of my wrist. “I don’t know. He was… weird.”
Her brows lift slightly. “How?”
“Apparently, he wants to be a better dad now,” I say, and even though I tried to force my voice to be even, the words come out raw. “Said a lot of things about being there and trying, wanting to do his best.”
Élise nods slowly, her expression unreadable. “And what do you think?”
I exhale, and my shoulders slump. “I don’t know. That I’ll believe it when I see it? I don’t even know why he’d want that now, or what I’m supposed to do about it.”
“You’re the child. You only have one thing to do.”
I furrow my brows. “And that is?”
“Give him the chance to love you.”
“Give him the chance to love me,” I echo. “I don’t even know how to do that.”
“You don’t have to fix or forgive anything. You don’t have to accept it, match it, or pretend it means more than it does. You just let him try. You live your life, and if he wants to be a part of it, let him show you. If he doesn’t? Then that’s on him.”
She gives my arm a little pat, then takes my wrist, guiding me toward the couch. “Come. Sit with me.”
I follow her, letting her tuck me under her arm as we settle onto the cushions.
“I had a conversation with Dane,” she says after a beat.
So that’s why they’re all so weird?
Dammit, Dane.
“You did?”
Élise nods. “That boy loves you so much.”
My chest aches in that familiar pulse of fierce, complicated love for my brother. “Yeah,” I say thickly. “He loves me too much.”
“There’s no such thing,” Élise replies, smoothing my hair with the same soft rhythm she used earlier, but there’s something sad in her eyes.
“What did you talk about?” I ask, dreading the answer and how much I need to hear it.
She runs her fingers lightly over the flowers on my tattoo, tracing one petal like she’s memorizing it. Mason flashes through my head like a spark, and the ache deepens.
“Did Luc tell you that his father committed suicide when he was thirteen?”
I freeze, and the room shifts from under me, tilting everything.
“No,” I breathe out.
Fuck.
“It was very hard for us. Of course, it was hard for Luc, but for me, it was unbearable. I was married to the love of my life. We had a good kid who was loud and wild, always getting into trouble, but I loved him so much. That was all I ever had to worry about. Whether Luc had jumped off someone’s roof again.”
Roofs?
“I had a good life,” she continues, voice smaller. “A loving husband, a sweet boy, a home that felt full, and then one morning, I woke up, and there was a letter beside me. A goodbye.” She swallows hard, her eyes turning glossy. “He was just like Luc,” she shares. “Adrenaline in his blood, always chasing the next thrill. I guess… I guess that’s how he wanted to go.”
She looks past me, like she’s somewhere far away now.
“He jumped off a bridge. I think he wanted to feel alive one last time. I ask myself every day if that last jump gave him joy or dread.”
I can see it too easily. Luc’s dad, alone, wind rushing past him, choosing that fall, choosing finality. Élise, finding a letter instead of a husband, and a young Luc, waking up in a house with one less heartbeat.
They didn’t deserve that pain.
This woman, who brought me into her home without hesitation and put her arms around me.
Luc, who held me while I broke, who pulled me into his chest like it was the safest place in the world.
Luc, who lost his father because he chose to leave.
And I’m planning to do the same damn thing to him.
To all of them.
Flashes of the people I love finding me gone fill my mind.
Élise, waking up to the news. Luc, reliving the silence he already had to survive once. And Dane.
God, Dane.
I told myself it would be a relief for him. That he’d finally be free after giving up everything for me—his choices, his dreams, the years of his life he sacrificed trying to hold me together. I convinced myself I was a burden he’d finally be able to set down.
But now, seeing what that kind of loss actually looks like?
Leaving him wouldn’t be freedom. It would destroy him.
Just like it would break Luc. It would hollow out Piper and Mason, and Finn would never be able to live guilt-free again.
And my dad, who just said he loved me for the first time in my life.
The idea of being that kind of pain in someone else’s life.
Fuck.
My insides turn to water, and my skin suddenly doesn’t fit right as my stomach churns violently, and before I can even process what’s happening, I’m on my feet and stumbling into the kitchen.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I barely make it to the trash can before I’m heaving, but nothing but bile and breathless panic comes out.
Élise is there in an instant, her hand on my back, stroking gently. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry. That was probably too much.”
“No.” I gasp between breaths. “No. Don’t be sorry. It’s not you.”
Because it’s not. Not really.
It’s everything.
It’s me.
She pauses, then says, carefully, “Dane told us about your plan, Alaina. That’s why I wanted to talk.”
I keep my arms braced on the counter as my knees wobble under me.
She waits for me to process a few moments longer before asking, “Feeling a little better?”
Pushing up from the counter, I breathe through the sudden onslaught and nod.
Physically, yeah. Emotionally? Still shredded to bits I’m not sure will ever fit together again.
She hands me a cloth to wipe off and a lozenge from a little ceramic jar on the shelf. It’s cherry flavored. I pop it into my mouth, shocked by the sweetness.
It reminds me of Finn, and I can almost feel his fingertips on my lips before I shove the thought away.
I feel fragile and off-center as we sit back on the couch. My body is still here, but my head is somewhere ten years ago and ten miles away.
“After he was gone, I struggled,” Élise continues her story, like I did not just fall apart over her kitchen counter. “Badly. I still do sometimes. It’s been hard every day for the last eleven years since that morning. I fell into this black hole of grief and depression so deep, I didn’t think I’d ever climb out. For a while, I couldn’t even care for Luc. Not properly. I had to lean on my family to help. If it weren’t for them, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”
She’s not crying, and her voice is steady, but it’s not the kind of strength that hides the hurt, it’s the kind that comes from surviving it.
“They convinced me to go to therapy,” she says. “And I’ve been on antidepressants ever since. I’ll be honest with you, Alaina. They saved my life.”
I blink, then run my gaze over this put-together woman. “You’re on meds?”
She smiles, not at all offended by my question. “Yes. And it’s the best decision I ever made. It doesn’t make everything magically okay, but it makes the hard days feel manageable. The dark less dark. It helps me hold onto the good.”
I don’t even realize I’ve straightened my spine until the cushion creaks beneath me. “I’ve thought about it,” I say quietly. “But it’s like… it wouldn’t make the pain go away, at least not the physical one. And I’ve lived with this so long, what if it changes me?”
“That’s the thing. Depression numbs everything. Not just the pain, but the joy too. The laughter. The hope. The love. You’ve been walking through life with everything turned down, trying not to feel too much in either direction because the bad is too heavy. But the medication, the therapy, it doesn’t erase who you are. It gives you access back to the full range. It lets you want things again.”
She presses a hand over mine.
“You’ve already lived through days that tried to end you,” she says softly. “And you’re still here. That matters, Alaina. You matter.”
I let out a slow, shaking breath, everything in me wanting to deny those words. “It doesn’t feel like enough. Not most days.”
“That’s okay. Feeling it is the start. You don’t have to believe in the finish line yet, just that there’s still somewhere to walk toward.”
I stare at her, at this woman who held me like a mother, talked to me like a friend, and has seen more pain than I ever guessed, and I feel a little less alone.
“I called my therapist while Mr. Crews was with you.” Élise holds my watery gaze. “And I asked her for an in-person session. She’s amazing, and she agreed to make time for us later this afternoon if you’ll come. With me.”
I don’t answer right away. I don’t know how to. My throat tightens at the thought of being as candid with a stranger as Élise just was with me.
“Dane told us because he’s terrified,” she adds softly. “He told your father. He told me. Because he doesn’t know how else to help, and I know you didn’t ask for this pressure, Alaina, but he loves you. He just wants to see you okay. Alive. Even if you don’t feel okay right now.”
I look down at my hands.
One in a cast. The other curled in my lap.
I don’t know if this will help.
But maybe, maybe it’s enough to try.
Maybe it’s enough to keep from hurting Luc in the same way someone already did, and enough to stop Dane from watching me disappear when all he’s ever done with his life is fight to hold me together.
Maybe this is how I repay him—not by being okay, or by fixing it all, but by doing the one thing he’s ever asked me for.
Living.
Even when it’s hard.
I swallow the lump in my throat and meet Élise’s steady, patient gaze.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll go.”