Page 50 of Holding Hope

“Hey!” I objected. “I’m handling things much better than I would have last year. Or last month. Your lack of faith is insulting.”

Jonas laughed, and some of the tension in my chest eased. I didn’t have many people who understood me—but the ones who did, I cherished.

“No, but seriously,” he continued, “I think there’s unresolved sexual tension between you two. And unless you release it⁠—”

“Ew!”

“—until you get rid of this magnetic pull between you, things will always be tense. Sensual. That’s your task for the week: have sex!”

I chewed my nail again. “With Clarke or⁠—”

“Anyone!” he shrieked. “You just need to exert some of that pent-up sexual frustration. It shouldn’t be hard. Texas should be full of gay cowgirls. Oh! You could go to Houston and party at Palomino’s—I hear the drinks are to die for.”

I considered it—not Palomino’s, since Houston was six hours away—but maybe I did have pent-up frustration.

We ended the call a few minutes later. I slipped my phone into my pocket and stepped out of the bathroom, careful to avoid a certain quick-tempered blonde.

“I think Avalon is lonely,” Melody announced several days later, plopping into the spare chair in my music studio. She spun it around until she faced me, giving me an empathetic little shrug. “Did you know she doesn’t have any siblings?”

I sighed and looked up from my notebook, forcing my attention onto her. “Since when is the emotional wellbeing of Avalon Kennedy a concern of Melody-Claire King?”

I laughed lightly, trying to keep my tone breezy when, in reality, I couldn’t care less how lonely Avalon was. She had crossed an unspoken line and then had the nerve to act apologetic about it. She knew what she was doing—deep down, I knew she knew. Cutting Melody’s hair was sacred. That should’ve been me or Mama. Maybe even Colton. But not her.

Melody let out an exaggerated sigh and spun in the chair again. I wanted to tell her to stop before she made herself dizzy, but I held my tongue. I’d already been told—repeatedly—that I was being “especially motherly” these past thirty-six hours. Apparently, I needed to accept that my little sister wasn’t so little anymore.

“Why are you guys like this?” she asked, staring up at the ceiling as if the universe might answer her. Then she lowered her gaze back to me, more insistent this time. “Why are you two like this? What could possibly have happened that was so bad forgiveness is completely off the table?”

My stomach churned. My mind drifted back to the convention—to that night, those moments, the betrayal, the embarrassment. Every time someone asked what happened between Avalon and me, I got closer to spitting it out. That I’d made a mistake. That instead of finding healthy coping mechanisms, I shoved everything down deep.

But that wouldn’t be the truth.

Because if I talked about that night, I’d have to talk about everything that came after.

I’d have to admit that I thought about her.

A lot.

Up until the moment she walked into my father’s office, I hadn’t stopped thinking about her.

And that was something I wasn’t ready to say out loud.

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Mells.”

It wasn’t a lie—it truly wasn’t her business. It wasn’t anyone’s business but mine.

Mine and Avalon’s.

“You always say that,” Melody groaned, spinning again. “You dislike her but you won’t tell me why, and it’s driving me crazy. It’s driving her crazy. And I know it has to be driving you crazy.”

“Why would it be driving me crazy? I don’t think⁠—”

“Don’t lie, Clarke. Not to me.”

Her tone sharpened, and she held my gaze with surprising intensity.

“I know about the songs.”

My heart stopped.