Page 103 of Close Knit

I miss the wacky Wednesday nights with the boys. Planning sessions for the retreat with Rosie at Petal & Plate over flaky pastries. The apartment’s leaky faucet—my own mini waterfall. Texting Bea about knitting patterns like we’re cracking codes. Lugging my tripod and SLR through Bloomsbury’s statelyGeorgian townhouses to Notting Hill’s Victorian terraces to make content.

But mostly, I miss Cameron.

Being with him again felt so different, like we had leveled up in some cosmic game ofus. It felt right to take care of him. To be close to him.

Every breath, touch, and kiss kept replaying in my mind during the flight, so much so that it took me ages to register that we were on his family’s private jet over the Atlantic.

While he dozed off beside me, a much-needed reprieve from the emotionally and physically exhausting day he had, I needed something to keep my hands busy and my mind out of the gutter. That’s when I noticed a tiny tear in Cameron’s leather jacket. Out came my trusty embroidery kit. My original plan was just to fix it, but after a few inhalations of his jacket’s intoxicating scent, I ended up stitching a tiny heart-shaped soccer ball inside his sleeve. A harmless secret, just for me.

Cameron.

I miss his half-smile and his adorable grumpiness. We’ve been texting nonstop. Erin was right: stress does bring people closer. With London’s tabloids finally chilling out—which I know thanks to Bea’s updates and my mild snooping—it looks like we’ll have a chance to figure out what we are when we get back.

Until then, I’m going to do my best to enjoy being with my family after so many months apart.

“Logged back into your socials yet?” Juni asks, pulling me back out of my mind.

I sigh again, knowing this moment was inevitable. “Not yet. I miss it, though. I’ll be back on after the New Year.”

“I still can’t believe those soccer jerks.” Juni scoffs. “If I could, I’d track them down and make them get their blood drawn by novice phlebotomists. Unnecessary pain and bruisingfor all!” We all turn to stare at her. “What? I’m sleep-deprived, and that’s the worst thing I could think of.”

“Dan, remind me not to get my blood drawn by Dr. Quinn when she’s mad.” Prim laughs.

“Ditto.”

Three pairs of eyes zero in on me. Time to rip off the Band-Aid.

“Well, go on then,” I say, tipping my nose at them. “Ask what you want to ask.”

Prim rubs my shin. “We’re just a little worried, Duckie.”

“If you want to cancel your retreat—” Dani starts.

That stings. Mom, the steel-armored warrior, suggesting I throw in the towel?

“No! I don’t want to let the bullies win. My true community is so excited about the retreat, and so am I.”

“Nobody will blame you if you choose to postpone,” Prim says gently. “Your safety and mental health come first.”

“I know, but I have a plan. I’m going to filter my comments and block the crappy people. It’s my space, and I have every right to kick out anyone who doesn’t belong there. Plus, I’m seeing my therapist weekly again. Erin is helping me cope.” I’m confident I have the tools to navigate this uncharted territory, bumps and all. Figuring out how to return to posting content is scary. But here’s the thing—I’ve already faced down bullies and learned to love myself once.

Juni frowns. “Youcanalways come back home, though. Your room is just as you left it.”

Annoyance prickles my throat. “I know you all mean well, but it feels like you don’t think I can handle this. I’ve grown so much these past few months, and I don’t want you to see me as a helpless teenager anymore. I want to stand on my own two feet. That’s the whole point of my Yes Year.”

“We’re sorry, sweetheart. We miss you, and with the boy and the bullies, we’re just giving you an out if you want one,” Prim says.

“I don’t,” I say firmly. My nerves settle as I stand my ground. “This past month, I’ve reflected on why I share my life online. It’s a way for me to celebrate myself because, for the longest time, outside of you three, I never thought anyone else would—especially after I was bullied.” Juni slings her arm over my shoulder, tears already pricking her eyes. I look away, because if she starts crying, we’ll all be a mess. I continue. “Wooly Duck gave me the confidence to be me again.”

“Duckie.” Prim rubs my cheek.

“When the ridiculous news broke, I felt like that little girl again, the one who let words cut her to pieces. But here’s the thing, I’ve learned it takes a heck of a lot of courage to put yourself out there. Sure, it may look like I just share knitting patterns, skeins of yarn, or the coffee I scored on my afternoon stroll, but that’s my world.Mine. And I want to shout into the digital abyss about my struggles, my journey, and my growth.”

“We always knew you were making an impact.”

“And if I quit now, those trolls win. They hide behind their screens, trying to make me feel small because their own lives are crumbling. Shrinking myself for people who don’t even matter? Nope. Not this time.”

“Sweetheart.” Prim’s voice cracks with a heartfelt sob. All right, cue the waterworks. “You’ve always been strong, but you’re right; now you’re running your own show.”

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