Vance 

It's late into the night before Calla and I are persuaded to leave Maddox. Logically, our families are correct when they say nothing's going to change if we leave. But ever since Calla and I entered the ICU, we haven't left Maddox's side or let go of each other's hand. I think it makes us feel strong and united. At least, that's how her hand makes me feel. After everything that's happened today, I'm on the verge of crumbling. Calla is acting as my anchor. Which I find ironic, considering her voice cracking with my name on her tongue continues to haunt me.

It echoes in the back of my skull, reminding me of Uncle Roman's intentions.

If Demetri hadn't shot him dead, it would've been my body on the floor in a pool of blood. Not his. 

"He's going to be safe," Dr. Gray assures us. "A medically induced coma is different from a coma that's caused by trauma. As soon as we cut off the drug supply, he'll wake up."

Calla scoffs. I look away from Maddox. More colour has returned to his cheeks, but the situation seems false. He's still dependent on the tube and the strips of medical tape holding it in place. I snort. Safe? When has Maddox ever been safe? When has he ever been able to walk without glancing over his shoulder? He wouldn't know safety if it bit him in the ass. Ever since Hollie left, he's been abused by his father. It pisses me off, why no one seems to understand the complexity of this issue. They expect me to leave Maddox behind in such a vulnerable position?

Then I remember Roman's dead.

The same bullet that pierced his heart nicked me in the shoulder, taking out a good chunk of skin that needed to be repaired. I'll have some nerve damage, but it's nothing compared to the road ahead for Maddox.

Cold sweat breaks out across my brow. I can still feel Uncle Roman's grip around my neck, cutting off my source of oxygen. My grip tightens around Calla's hand. Her gaze flicks to me, a worried look on her face. I ignore her. My breakdown will come when I'm alone. No one, aside from Calla, Maddox, and Hollie, can understand what happened today. What's been happening for the past ten years. Not even my mother.

"Maybe..." Calla trails off, her gaze focused again on Maddox. "Maybe we should go home, Vance. Maddox will be okay here. I could use a shower and some sleep. Tomorrow morning, I can pick you up. We'll stay with Maddox all day."

I sigh.

Calla's correct.

"I'll join, too," Laurel says. Her pitiful gaze is focused on my shoulder, but I appreciate her efforts. She's trying to be supportive. Now I understand why Calla has kept her around. Although they don't see the world the same, their relationship is dynamic. They love each other like sisters.

It reminds me of the love Hollie had for Maddox when we were kids. Irrevocable.

I've come to the conclusion persuasion is a bastard. A scalding shower sounds perfect, as does a warm bed and sleep. But my own self-care isn't the driving force behind the persuasion. Hollie's lack of presence is the force. She should be here. She should be made aware of what's happened to her son.

Shame settles in my chest as I nod. "Fine."

My heart begs me not to leave as I stand with Calla. Everyone around the bed—Laurel, Dr. Gray, Mom, Lindsay, and Isaiah—takes a step back. An unfamiliar pang travels through my stomach. Only a few hours have passed and we're already being ostracized from the group. Wonderful.

I tear my gaze away from the surrounding people, watching Calla squeeze Maddox's hand and press a kiss to his forehead. Showing affection to my cousin isn't something I can handle. Although I would die for him, I can't stomach the fact that he almost died for me. How do I repay him? How do I forgive myself for failing? I swore to protect him. Now he's the one with a tube shoved down his throat because his dead father shot him.

Turning away from the bed, I pinch myself and jog to the exit. Fuck waiting. I'm on the brink of losing control of my emotions. I head for the bus stop, unaware of where I'm going next. 

"Vance!"

I stop next to a streetlamp without turning around. "What?" I ask. I can see the bus stop ahead. 

"The parking lot is in the other direction," Calla replies.

"I can't do this," I blurt, tugging my hair. "Fuck, Calla. How do we come back from this?" I spin around and clutch the collar of her sweater. "We failed him!" My chest splits in two, raw and bloody.

Pain passes across Calla's face. "Don't talk like that, Vance," she says softly. "You could've never predicted Maddox pushing you out of the way. He made a snap decision. We were blinded. You once said his big heart is his biggest flaw."

Pressing my lips together, I release her shirt and squeeze my eyes shut. This is too much. Leaving Maddox doesn't feel right. Roman being dead doesn't feel right. This world is so fucked up I can hardly tell up from down. I hate to admit it, but the abusive relationship between Maddox and his dad was the norm. Where do we go from here? How do I stop protecting him? Is there a way to create a new normal?

I pinch the bridge of my nose, the trauma of today's events making my blood pressure rise. My hands shake. I can feel the gun pressing into my temple. Hear Calla choking on my name. But, worst of all, I can feel Maddox's body slamming against mine and taking us to the floor. His blood soaking through my clothes. A tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away with a furious force. I've spent most of my life beside Maddox. I should've known he'd pull some heroic shit like taking a bullet for me. He's never needed saving. He's always been the hero of his own story. But I hate that all this weight has been placed on his shoulders. He deserves a fucking break. 

Calla pulls me into a tight hug, her body heat comforting me. I press my forehead to her shoulder. "Don't be ashamed of fear. Don't be ashamed of the aftereffects of trauma. Roman almost killed you, Vance. You have every right to feel this way."

"So do you," I murmur. "Don't push it away, Calla."

"I'll deal with it when he's awake," she replies. "This still doesn't feel real to me." She pauses. "Do you think we're going to be okay? After everything that's happened..." Calla shakes her head. "Call me if you need to. I don't care if it's at three-in-the-morning. We both need showers and rest, though. We can talk more tomorrow. The dust needs to settle."

I take a deep breath and pull away from her. "You're right."

Flashing me a weak smile, Calla guides me in the direction of the parking lot.

My eyes focus on the hospital as we follow the sidewalk.

One day, we will tell our stories about how we overcame the darkness of Roman's intentions.

Until then, we have to tread in the darkness. Life's standards don't change because you're struggling; the world will continue to spin, and the sun will rise in the east and set in the west.

I loop my arm around Calla's shoulders, expelling a heavy sigh.

With Maddox safely in the hospital, there's one more thing I need to do before the day ends.

* * *

"Vance," Allison whispers. "What happened?"

I stare into the innocent eyes of my younger sister, my tongue unable to move. The world is cruel to innocent people. To take away something so pure and bright and replace it with cold, unwanted notions. As soon as I stepped into the house, Allison lost her mind. She can't handle seeing me injured.

"Dirt biking," I reply, kicking off my shoes. I hope I wiped away enough of the blood. Allison is young, but such an alarming amount of blood can concern anyone. "I was going too fast around a corner. I went off the trail and..." I gesture to my shoulder.

One day, I'll tell my sister the truth. When she's old enough to understand the concept of abuse. At that age, she'll be able to understand Maddox without judging him.

"Are you sick, too?" Allison asks, taking my hand. "You're shaking."

"Nah," I reply. "Just cold."

Allison stares up at me, nodding her head with too much emphasis. "I'll get you a blanket."

She scuttles off before I can argue.

Mom, who was behind me, steps up and rests her hands on my shoulders. She presses a kiss to my cheek. "It must feel good to be home."

My eyes sweep through the grand entryway. When I see the small nook that has an excellent view of the lake, my stomach flips. Within that nook is a small table and chairs set we never use. It was supposed to act as a breakfast nook. Thanks to the sun shining in, I can see the layer of dust atop it. This house is filled with things we've never needed. Space that's been wasted over the years. Space that could've been given to Maddox. Just like one of the spare rooms and bathrooms. 

"Why didn't you take him in?" I whisper, my eyes welling with tears. "We could've prevented this from happening! He needed a place to live, Mom! There's enough room in this goddamned house."

I turn to face her, wanting to see the embarrassment on her face. I want the guilt to devour her.

Mom steps back, as if I've slapped her. "Vance..."

I wipe at the tears. "He's family. He's family, and you did nothing to help him. I understand why—but blood comes before anything else. Maddox didn't deserve any of this. Roman wouldn't have touched you." 

Before Mom can respond, Allison appears, blanket in hand. It's her favourite fuzzy blanket, decorated with daisies. "Here you go," she says. Her little face is beaming with pride. Which is why I turn my back to Mom and thank Allison. After that, she skips away, her imaginative mind somewhere else. I'm thankful she believed my story. Stability is an issue at the moment, and I don't think I'd be able to relay a PG-13 version of the story if she kept pressing for information. Just to satisfy my sister's kindness, I wrap the blanket around my shoulders. It smells like her favourite floral candle from Bath and Body Works.

"Vance..." Mom says once Allison is gone. "You don't understand the position Maddox's situation put me in. Roman..." She chokes on tears. Mom is allowed to feel the grief of losing her brother. Even with all his wrongdoings, they're still siblings. But not right now. This isn't about Roman. This is about Maddox.

"This isn't about situations," I argue. "This isn't about Roman. Maddox needed the support, and you rejected him every time he came over. You made it clear you didn't want him around your kids." I shake my head in disgust. "How could you isolate him like that? Society already thinks little of him. You added to that. You tried to make yourself look like the victim whenever he came over."

Calling out Mom is something I've wanted to do for years. I understand her fear, and I don't judge her for it. Maddox wasn't the one to be afraid of, though. And, surprisingly, neither was Roman. The only reason Roman hated me was because I was part of the summer job scheme. Before we got the jobs, Roman was okay with Maddox coming over here. He was manipulative; he knew his sister was too afraid to make a stand or influence Maddox. 

Exhausted, I sigh and shake my head. This conversation isn't one I want to have right now. There's still one thing I need to take care of before I face today's events. Before I break down. "I want to be alone," I mutter, turning around. "Don't follow me."

I leave Mom behind, letting her review her thoughts while she silently sobs. The air is humid when I step outside, and storm clouds are brewing on the horizon, promising a thunderstorm throughout the night. I close the sliding glass door behind me, breathing in the smell of heated pavement and freshly mown grass. There's also the faint hint of chlorine. With the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders, I rest my forearms on the railing. As much as I love my sister and her bubbly personality, I long for Calla and Maddox. The people who experienced the same trauma I did.

I stare out at the pool and cabana. Mom has decorated the outside with too many twinkling lights, plastic pineapples, and pink umbrellas. The hanging plastic pineapples twist in the wind, mocking me. They remind me of how easy it was for Maddox to shove me out of the way and take the bullet. Thank God he's going to be okay. If he hadn't of survived... fuck.

The memory of his body weight atop mine makes me remove my phone from my pocket. I stare at the device, guilt burning beneath my skin. Up until today, the worst I've seen Maddox was last summer. When he texted me to pick him up, I wasn't expecting a third-degree burn, broken wrist, and a concussion. He'd gotten in an argument that night with Roman. It was about the same old topic—Maddox overtaking the business—but things escalated quickly. On his inner right bicep, just above his elbow, Maddox has a scar from that burn. It's a perfect line from the hot, pointed metal of a needle. He asked me to take him to the hospital for blood tests and a CT scan. Thankfully, because Roman made the needle so hot, it was sterile. My cousin's blood was clean. He did have a severe concussion, though. 

While Maddox was getting treated that night, I realized something had to be done. Roman had been getting away with shit for too long. Which is why I started searching for his mom. The first two months were difficult. Whenever I found Hollie Kase's name, they were usually from reports in association with Roman. Dead ends. 

I kept searching.

Until, back in January of this year, I found something. It was a news article about the graduates of a culinary class in Seattle. When I saw the picture, I knew I'd found her. She was one of the teachers. There was even a write up about her teaching methods and how proud she was of her class in the two-page article. Although my memories of Hollie are foggy, the curve of her lips and the twinkle in her green eyes sealed my assumptions.

I'd found Maddox's mom. She'd changed her last name, but I'd found her.

The next difficult portion of my discovery was approaching her. It was something I needed to do in person. With social media, you can easily hide behind another name. She would've thought Roman had found her. She would've fled to another city and ruined my chances of contacting her. That's why I packed an overnight bag and drove down to Seattle that same day. I lied to Maddox, telling him I was visiting an old friend from high school. When I was really going to find his mom. 

I arrived in Seattle just after midnight, rented a motel room, and then, in the morning, I went to the culinary school. I sat on the steps all day, hoping and praying she would appear. It was a miracle when I saw her walk down those steps with her group of students. She was smiling and congratulating them for graduating. Exchanging their final goodbyes. Although my presence was a shock to her, she adapted well. We exchanged numbers (after she gushed about how much I'd grown up) and negotiated. Hollie had hit a few rough patches just after she left Roman and Maddox, but she got her life together. She finished culinary school and got a job teaching. 

Ever since January, I've been trying to ease Hollie in to coming back to the Okanagan for the past year. She's had enough time to make a living and create a life suitable for her and Maddox. I kept my discovery a secret from Maddox because I didn't want to fill his mind with false hope. Hollie is sketchy—the trauma from Roman has rooted itself deep within her. If I had told Maddox the news, he may have scared her off.

Now that Roman's dead, perhaps that hope will no longer be false.

Perhaps I can make her come back to her son.

With shaky hands, I dial Hollie's number.

She picks up on the first ring.

"Vance?" she asks.

"Hollie."

"Is he okay?"

My lips tremble and I squeeze my eyes shut. I hate how she knows something's wrong. While I've kept information on Maddox's private life limited, I've been generous with any information regarding abuse. "Roman's dead."

Hollie is silent on the other line. She was asking about Maddox, but creating a sense of security is the only way I'm going to convince her to come back. "What... how?" she stutters. 

"The details don't matter," I reply, staring at the clouds in the distance. A low rumble of thunder echoes through the valley. "Your husband is dead. Roman attacked us, and Maddox took a bullet for me. Your son is in the hospital right now. He's going to make it, but..."

I'm not sure what else to say. I've been brutal with the details.

"You want me to come home," she says softly.

The relationship between Hollie and me is strange. While we're on good terms, I still resent her for leaving Maddox behind. Yet, I also feel bad for her. Just like Maddox, she didn't deserve any of this. She also has this strange ability to figure out what I'm hinting at. 

"Yes," I whisper. "Hollie, you need to come home. Maddox needs you. Calla and I... I don't know if we're going to be enough. Not until we've all healed from this."

A gasp of horror escapes Hollie's mouth. "Calla was there?"

My gaze drops to my hands. There's still blood beneath my fingernails. Maddox's blood. If keeping Hollie informed about her son makes me a bad person, then so be it. But I had to help reconnect the bond between them. On Hollie's side, at least. Besides, I haven't told her every little detail. She knows the basic outline: Maddox fell in love with the right person. Although I love bugging Calla and pissing her off, I'm grateful for her. She did what I couldn't do: convince Maddox to retaliate. And I think Hollie feels the same way. Calla did what she wasn't brave enough to do. 

Calla is the hope Maddox needs. 

But I don't know if that will be enough anymore. 

Calla, just like me and Maddox, needs time to recover. 

"She's the reason he's still alive," I reply. That's not a lie. Calla called Isaiah and saved all of us. She was smart from the moment we stepped into that cursed house. If Calla hadn't of been there to apply pressure to his wound, I don't think Maddox would've made it. I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Please, Hollie. I'm begging you. It will shock Maddox, but he'll understand. He's nothing like Roman."

"I know," she replies.

"Please," I repeat. "You are the only one who can fully understand what he's going through. Calla and I need you here. Maddox needs you."

Hollie is quiet for several seconds. I hold my breath, willing her to agree. Seeing Hollie will shock Maddox when he wakes. He'll be upset. He'll yell at me. But he will see the underlying value. Hollie will tell him every piece of information he needs to hear.

Everything Hollie's been doing since she left has been for Maddox. She slaved over several jobs before she earned enough money to go to culinary school. When she completed that, she became a teacher. She's been able to pay bills and live the life she wanted, feeling guilty every day for leaving her son behind. It's true they may have been happier living in a rundown apartment with money being difficult to find, but Hollie didn't want that for Maddox. She knew Roman would provide. She knew Maddox was strong enough to make it through. And it's because of that very reason any extra money she made was put aside for Maddox. Last time she updated me on the amount, she had just over ten thousand dollars put aside for him. For his education. 

He'll understand she's been trying to make her way back. There was just one barrier she couldn't break. 

Now that Roman's gone—

"I'll book the next flight," she replies, her voice firm.

I almost sob in relief. "Thank you."

"Vance," she continues, "I'm sorry."

That's a loaded apology. 

The weight of my secrets threatens to push me over the edge. I feel like shit for keeping secrets from Maddox. I didn't want him to face more disappointment. Protecting him was my only option. One day, I hope Maddox will forgive me for what I've done.

Deciding I've had enough, I shake my head. "I've got to go, Hollie. Text me your flight information. I'll pick you up from the airport tomorrow."

Hollie, sensing my instability, lets me go.

I discard my phone onto a lounge chair and lean over, pressing my forehead against the cool metal railing. Where are we supposed to go from here? How do we overcome such trauma? The looming possibility of parting from Maddox and Calla terrifies me. People are meant to grow apart, but I thought that only applied to high school friends. The truth is, I can't see myself continuing on without them. They're part of my family. I trust them with my life.

Trust.

That's when I realize I have to tell Calla about Hollie. She needs to know, so she's not blinded tomorrow.

I sit down on the chair, wrapping the blanket tighter around my body. This time, my hand doesn't shake when I pick up the phone. Calla will understand. She knows what it's like to protect someone you love. I dial her number and bring the phone to my ear, waiting.

"Hello?" she asks on the second ring.

"Calla?" I choke. My throat is thick with guilt. "I need to talk to you."