Page 82 of Holding Hope

A soft sound filled the barn—Clarke’s laugh. Quiet, but unmistakable.

“You were chicken shit,” she said. “Chicken shit over something that wasn’t even in my mind. I wasn’t thinking about a relationship. I just wanted some fun. Maybe even friendship⁠—”

“No part of me ever wanted to be your friend,” I interrupted. “From the moment I saw you, I wanted to know you. Needed to know you. To figure you out.” I groaned, pressing my palms to my eyes. “God, my head hurts.”

Clarke sat silently for a moment, her fingers absently weaving through Artemis’ mane. “Why did you want to figure me out?”

I slid down the wall beside her, careful to avoid Artemis’ legs. “I thought you were a fraud,” I admitted.

She snorted. “A fraud?”

“Hypocritical, I know.” I laughed softly. “But I thought there had to be something fake about you. Something wrong. Something I could point to and say, ‘See? She’s not perfect.’”

A soft hand touched my shoulder. Clarke offered a small, sad smile. “You weren’t wrong,” she said. “Not entirely. In a way, I am a fraud. And a liar.” She looked away, exhaling. “I lie to the people I care about because I’m scared they won’t love me anymore when they find out I’m not who they think I am. When I turn out to be something different from the version I gave them.”

I nodded slowly. I had wanted to figure her out for months. Now that I was finally seeing her clearly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to anymore—not because I was afraid of what I’d find, but because I realized we were more alike than I ever imagined.

We both lied. We both hid. We both feared being truly seen.

“So, who are you, Clarke?” I asked softly.

“So, who are you, Clarke?” Avalon’s question echoed through my mind, bouncing off every wall I’d built inside myself. Who was I? Did she really want to know — or was she just trying to get inside my head so she could get back into my pants?

“You’re not really asking⁠—”

“I am,” she said, shifting to face me fully. “It’s all I’ve wanted for months. Who exactly is this girl I can’t stop thinking about?” Her voice softened. “I want to know you. Truly know you.” Her eyes met mine—steady, searching, unflinching. “Who are you, really?”

I blinked and looked away, unable to withstand the intensity of her gaze.

“I’m scared,” I muttered. I gently lifted Artemis’ head from my lap and stood, brushing hay from my jeans.

“That’s okay,” Avalon said, following me toward the window. Rain streaked down the glass in heavy sheets, the clouds darker than before. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t w⁠—”

I shook my head, waving my hands as if brushing away cobwebs.

“No, it’s not that. I’m terrified. And angry. And—” A sob caught in my throat. I turned away quickly, hoping she wouldn’t see the tears gathering in my eyes.

I hated talking about my feelings. It made me feel weak. Exposed. Breakable. And I couldn’t afford to be breakable. Not when I was supposed to be the one who held everything together. The one Melody could look up to. The one who kept Colton grounded. The one who carried my mother’s legacy and my father’s expectations.

I was the eldest daughter. The backbone. The example. There wasn’t room for weakness in that role. There wasn’t room for me.

“Melody’s getting worse,” I whispered — the first time I’d said it aloud. I had known for months. She slept more. She grew tired faster. Some days she looked so fragile I barely recognized her.

“They think they’re protecting me,” I said, voice trembling. “But I know in my bones that—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Saying it would make it real. And I couldn’t let it be real.

“I’m sorry,” Avalon whispered, slipping an arm around my waist. Her touch was gentle, careful — like she knew I might shatter. “It’s okay, Clarke. It’s all okay.”

But it wasn’t. And her words didn’t fix anything. Still… I didn’t pull away.

We stood like that in silence, her thumbs tracing slow circles on my lower back. Eventually, I leaned into her, letting her hold me. She didn’t seem to mind the weight — she just held me tighter, resting her chin on my shoulder.

After a moment, Avalon let out a soft breath, shaky as if she was bracing herself. Her hold on me loosened, not gone completely but enough to let me know that if I wanted to step away, I could.

And she would let me.

I didn’t.

“I think we could work,” she murmured, her breath warm against my neck. Her gray eyes stayed fixed on the storm outside, the world beyond the window fading into shadows. “I really do.”