“It’s not about what I want; it’s what she wants." I know this is the best thing for her, for us.

“She doesn’t know what she wants,” she protests, but I don’t listen. Just looking down at her, I know this is the best thing. If she’s not asleep, we’re waking her up for treatment only to medicate her again. What sort of life is this for her?

“She knows what she wants. If this is it, we will give it to her.” Leaning down, I kiss her pale skin.

“Are we giving up?” she asks. It’s a question I’ve struggled with for the last few weeks.

“Katie, you know this is the best thing for her. We don’t want her to be on the machine and have these tubes coming out of her when she goes,” I declare, absolute.

“I know. I just feel like we’re giving up,” she sobs into our daughter’s hair, stroking it away from her face.

“We aren't. We're giving her a chance at a peaceful passing. This part matters to her.” I walk around the bed to comfort Katie. As much as I struggle to move past the hurt she has brought on us, I can’t bear to see her break. “You know it’s time, Katie. She’s ready. We need to let her go,” I tell her, hating every moment of it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Holly

I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m gasping to get my old self back. Desperation claws at me as my soul craves a sense of peace, yet no matter how hard I try, how hard I pretend, I can’t seem to push past the pain that suffocates me. I’ve tried everything to break through this darkness that keeps pulling me down. It controls me, threatens to take me, and I fight it. I do, but some days, it’s too much.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” Sam, my older brother, yells from the other side of the bathroom door, sending the dark shadows away. Jesus, I’ve been doing so well. What the hell is going on?

“Getting ready,” I yell back, still looking at myself in the mirror. I’d like to think no one sees the pain I hide, but some days, even I look at myself and see my reflection telling me I’m a fraud. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I exhale and prepare to face him.

“Well, hurry up. I need a shower,” he replies, like every other morning after he’s stayed the night.

“Maybe if you stayed at your place, you wouldn't have to wait.” I paste on my fake smile. The one I’ve perfected, the one I hide behind, and open the door to face him.

“Why would I want to do that?” he laughs, flicking my nose as he walks past me, slamming the door shut.

“Asshole,” I yell, walking down the hall to start the coffee maker.

“Love you too, little sis,” he calls back. Hearing those words today settles some of the uneasiness I’ve been feeling since seeing Sy again at Kadence’s party. Today is a good day. Today is going to be better, I remind myself while setting the coffeepot up. If you had asked me three months ago where I saw myself this year, this would not be my answer. I never imagined my days would only get better with the help of anxiety pills. But grief isn’t predictable; it can strike so hard that even the strongest fall. When you live your life in color, surrounded by happiness, yet your world is painted with grief, how do you find equilibrium?

“You doing okay, sis?” Sam grills me, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yep,” I answer, looking up at him from my spot in the kitchen.

“What are you doing just standing there?” Reaching over, he flicks the switch on the coffee machine. Shit.

“Oh gosh, still waking up,” I fake a yawn and hope he doesn’t push. “Want eggs?” I ask, walking past him to get breakfast started. Shit, I don’t have eggs.

“Nah, I have to run, and I won’t be in tonight,” he reminds me; like I care he isn’t dropping in to babysit. He hasn't been in a lot lately and the less time he spends here, the better. I love my brother, but having him around all the time is just painful. He showed up the first day I was released from the hospital, taking up Kadence’s old room. I didn’t protest in the beginning, it wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere. My brother is a fierce protector and in his eyes this was something that would let him feel like he was fulfilling his brotherly duties. I gave him that, knowing I needed it too, but now, three months later, it’s getting old.

“I know, dear brother. However will I survive?” I joke and watch his lips quirk at my attitude.

“I’m sure you’ll manage, but if you need me, just call,” he says, coming forward, and wrapping his arms around me.

“I’m not a child and you’re not my parent, Sam. I’ll be fine,” I counter, pulling back to face him. I hate feeling like a burden to my family.

“No, Holly, you’re my sister. You were shot. You’re dealing with some serious shit, and I’m worried about you. We all are.”

“Sam, that was three months ago. I’m fine,” I protest, with only a small amount of lying laced in my words. I am fine, aren’t I? I was until I saw Sy last week.

“I know how long ago it was, Hol, and the more you say you're fine, the less I believe you. I’m your big brother; I’m allowed to worry.”

“You worry too much,” I tell him, hating that I can't fool him.

“Do I?”

“You know you do. Quit it. You’re turning into Mom,” I tease.

“Take it back.” He reaches for my arm and twists me, holding my arm behind my back. I try to out twist him, but he’s too quick. I know his moves; he’s been pulling them on me since I was five years old.

“Let me go. I thought you had to leave?” I try for a different tactic.

“Not ‘til you take it back.”

“Sam, you are so like Mom it’s disgusting,” I say as an insult. He reaches around and flicks my nose again. “Quit it. You're going to mess with my make-up.”

“Take it back.”

“Fine, okay. You’re not turning into Mom,” I lie. “Now, let me go,” I demand. He holds on for one second longer, and then releases his grip.

“I miss this side of you,” he quietly confesses, causing me to look up at him.

“I’m getting there,” I tell him.

“Love you, little sis,” he smiles, reaching out and scuffing my hair.

“Sam,” I screech, smacking his hand away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he laughs like he loves the fact that he has now pissed me off.

"See ya, asshole.” I wave him off and walk back to the bathroom to fix up the teased mess that is now my hair.

“Make sure you lock up,” he calls after me from the front door.

“Yes, Mom,” I yell back, hearing him laugh. After fixing my hair, I walk back out and finish getting ready for work. A knock at the door stops me from reaching my coffee, and I curse, realizing I keep getting interrupted. Opening the door, I feel the color drain from my face when I see Sy standing there.

“Sy,” I murmur, hiding my reaction. Oh, God, what is he doing here?

“Holly,” he responds, the sound of his voice sending a rush of pain through me. It’s the most beautiful pain in the world, one only I can feel.

“What’s up?” I try for cool, but don’t feel like I even pull it off. I haven’t spoken to him since the morning after the party where I had made a fool of myself.

“Can I come in?” he asks and like a dumb fool, I step aside and let him inside.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, surprised I’m less panicky to have him in my home.

“Yep, but you’ve got a tail today,” he states without any further explanation.

“Umm, okay, why exactly do I have a tail today?” I ask, knowing this has to do with Kadence.

“Club business,” he says, shrugging, his hands going to his pockets.

I cross my arms, waiting for him to tell the truth, because if he thinks for one second I’m in any danger, Kadence would have already called me.

“Well, considering I’m not part of your club, doesn’t look like it concerns me," I say, walking back to the kitchen to try for the third time this morning to get my coffee.