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And then he left to confront Hank.
And I was scared out of my fucking mind.
“Avery,” I whispered, the name a plea for understanding. I turned to face her, my eyes brimming with unshed tears. “He . . . he took the blame. All of it. Said it was his fault . . . that I should blame him.”
Avery’s brow furrowed, her lips parting as if to speak. But then she seemed to change her mind, her lips pressing together as she searched my face for answers. “And do you?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you blame him, Clover?”
I shook my head, the movement slow and lethargic. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely audible. The confusion was overwhelming, clouding my judgment, suffocating my rational thoughts. “I just . . . I don’t know.”
Silence fell between us once again, the ticking clock on the wall a cruel reminder of the passing time. The shadows in the room seemed to grow longer, the soft glow from the lone lamp casting eerie shapes onto the faded wallpaper.
“But he saved me, Avery,” I said, my voice a desperate whisper. “He keeps saving me.”
Avery sighed, reaching over to grip my hand, her fingers warm and steady against mine. “I know, Clover,” she murmured. “I know.”
The conflicting emotions inside me were a raging storm, one that threatened to tear me apart. I wanted to blame Declan for what had happened. I wanted to let him carry all the guilt, the shame. But I also knew that he had saved meagainand had put himself at risk for my sake. And that knowledge was like a beacon in the dark, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.
“So what do I do?” I asked, my voice choked with emotion. “What am I supposed to feel, Avery?”
Avery didn’t respond immediately. She seemed to be weighing her words, her gaze distant as she mulled over my question. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but steady.
“Clover,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Feel what you need to feel. There’s no right or wrong here. It’s your emotions, your conflict. And no one but you can figure out how to navigate it.”
I knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. The guilt, the fear, the relief . . . they were all tangled together, creating a web that I didn’t know how to sort through. But I had to try. For myself, for Declan, for us.
I sat back, releasing a shaky breath as I nodded. “Okay, Avery,” I murmured, a tear escaping my eye. “Okay.”
For a moment, we sat in silence, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the ticking clock the only sound in the room. It was a lot to process, a lot to accept. But I knew that I had to do it.
“Where’s Declan now?” Avery’s question pulled me from my thoughts.
I swallowed hard, feeling the sting of unshed tears at the back of my eyes. “He went to Hank,” I said quietly, “to end all this. To get answers.”
Avery nodded slowly, taking in my words. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied me, her eyes a deep well of concern. “Are you worried about him?” she asked eventually, her voice soft.
It was a simple question, but it brought forth a tidal wave of emotions. I took a deep, shaky breath, my fingers tightening around the hem of my shirt. “Yes,” I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I am . . . I love him, Avery.”
Tears filled my eyes as I finally let the words out, letting the truth spill from my lips. It was both terrifying and liberating at the same time. I felt Avery’s hand squeeze my own, a comforting, grounding pressure.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice gentle, careful. “Could it be . . . trauma bonding or something?”
I bit my lower lip, contemplating her words. It was possible, wasn’t it? Everything that had happened . . . it was enough to mess with anyone’s head. But when Declan had left, when he’d stepped out into the night to face Hank, the worry that had filled me was undeniable.
“I don’t know,” I confessed, tears spilling onto my cheeks. “But when he left, Avery . . . I was sick with worry. I still am.”
She watched me for a long moment before speaking. “You know, Clover,” she started, her voice thoughtful, “you’ve never let anyone in before. It’s . . . it’s scary, I know. But it could also be . . . good.”
I looked at her, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew what she was saying. It wasn’t approval, not exactly. But it was understanding, empathy. She knew that I couldn’t control how I felt, no matter how complicated or potentially misguided it might be.
“I just . . . I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, my voice a broken whisper.
Avery squeezed my hand again, offering a small, comforting smile. “You don’t have to do anything right now, Clover,” she said softly. “Just . . . just be. Feel what you need to feel. And when you’re ready . . . we’ll figure it out together, okay?”
And in that moment, amidst the chaos and confusion, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t alone in this.
Sitting on the couch, I found my attention returning time and again to the small, lifeless screen of my phone. I couldn’t stop the scenarios that played out in my mind, each more frightening than the last. Was Declan confronting Hank right now? Was he fighting for his life? Or worse . . .
He’d told me to stay at home. Lock the doors. Wait for word from him. I wanted to run, but he promised it would be handled before Hank even knew I was alive.
