Page 66 of Where the Stars Heal

“Shit,” he hisses as he reaches for me, pulling me up into a sitting position, his grip too tight, too urgent.

My eyes open in a glare. “How could you not talk to me about today?” I slur out.

He must sigh because his whiskey-soaked breath hits my face, thick and bitter.

“You’ve been doing so good, I didn’t want to cause you any pain,” he says.

“You have no right,” I say, anger fueling my tone.

He has none.

He wasn’t there.

The memory hits me like a punch to the gut; raw, jagged pain relentlessly crashes into me. My chest heaves, trying to breathe.

“Mom, you home?” I yell into the house, closing the front door.

Ray’s down at the local bar, drinking his stupid ass into a coma. My shift at the craft store flew by, and I couldn’t wait to get home, knowing Mom and I would get a few hours to ourselves.

“Mom!” I call again, louder this time, stepping into her room.

The sound of running water drifts from behind the bathroom door. She must be showering.

“Hey, I’m home,” I say more quietly, opening the door.

I look over at the shower, and everything stops.

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!” I scream inches from Hunter’s face.

The memory presses into me, suffocating me as Hunter tries to talk to me.

“Halle, please, sis. Don’t do this,” he pleads, grabbing at my hands desperately but I push him back.

“You don’t get to decide how I should feel on this day,” I snap, anger ripping through me.

“You didn’t find her,” the words tear at my throat.

Hunter’s face crumbles, and a tear falls from the corner of his eye. “Halle, I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have talked to you this morning. We should’ve been remembering her together.”

His words weave through my mind but I don’t hear him.

31

…

HALLE

She’s dead.

A sob breaks free as tears stream down my face, tracing the path of my grief.

I let it consume me. The memory of my mom lying there in the shower. Gone. Never to come back and hug me again. It swallows me whole.

32

SHE NEEDED THIS

ASHER

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