Page 75 of Where the Stars Heal

I rub the back of my head, scowling at him. “You weren’t supposed to follow me,” I reply.

“You think, after all we’ve been through,” he lets out a humorless laugh crossing his arms over his chest, “after my sister fell in love with you, that I’d just let you run off? That I wouldn’t chase your ass down? You’re a bigger idiot than I thought.” He scoffs.

For a moment, neither of us speaks, and the silencesuffocates me. The disappointment and hurt etched into his face hit me all at once, leaving a hollow ache inside my chest.

“What was I meant to do, Hunt?” I ask, my voice heavy with defeat. “Not say anything? Go on with life living with the guilt, knowing every time I look at her, look at you, I’d see the pain I caused?” My fist hits my chest, frustration simmering inside me.

“Nah, man,” I shake my head, “you guys are better off without me. She’s better than me, and deserves better.”

My chest heaves as I fight to keep my shit together, the weight of this whole situation becoming too much.

“Do you remember how Halle was when she first got to Sunlit?” he asks.

I nod, not seeing where he’s going with this.

“She was broken,” he continues, “hollow. Too skinny for her own good and jumpy as hell. She’d say sorry for everything, even things that weren’t her fault. Always worrying she was in the way or doing something wrong. She would hide away in her room, and the anxiety attacks would come in daily. She was on edge all day, all night.”

My chest tightens painfully at the thought of Halle back then—beaten down with those sad eyes and closed off to the world.

Not giving me a chance to speak, Hunter leans forward, the intensity in his gaze making me shift in my seat.

“The Halle I see now,” he pauses, pride flashing across his face, “is someone who fought back. She’s healthy, strong, carefree. She laughs, dances, and is a part of our family now. She doesn’t hide anymore. She controls her anxiety. And she sat there, after reading your letter, convincing every single one of us that you,” he points at my chest, “are a part of our family. And family doesn’t give up on each other.” Hesearches my face. “Do you know who I have to thank for that?”

A shaky breath escapes me as Hunter eyes me, waiting for me to say or do something. The pride swelling in my chest is all for her because she did that. No one else. Halle fought for herself, and she’s the fiercest person I’ve ever known.

“You,” he says, his voice firm. “I have you to thank.”

Disbelief clouds my thoughts. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Wake up, Asher,” he snaps, “she needs you. I need you. We all do.”

His words hit me, but they aren’t enough to shake the doubt.

“And what happens when I go back? When everyone looks at me knowing what I did? What happens then? You really want me to stick around while she figures out that I’m the one to blame?”

Hunter pinches the bridge of his nose, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Don’t make me punch you,” he mutters with a sigh.

“You didn’t kill our mom, Asher. You didn’t do anything other than get caught up in the wrong crowd. Mom made her choice. If she didn’t buy the pills from you, it would’ve been someone else. You know that.” He leans over, his hand gripping my shoulder as his eyes search mine.

“We don’t blame you,” he says with conviction, “so stop blaming yourself. You’ve been through enough.”

I try to look away, to pull out from under his grip, but his fingers dig into my shoulder. His eyes bore into mine, holding me in place, refusing to let me go until I face the truth.

And then I see it—everything he’s been saying.

He’s right.

All these months, I’ve been telling Halle to fight, to live, to face her demons, and promising her that I’d be right there, helping her every step of the way. And yet here I am, running again when all I had to do was let her in so we could face it all together. So we could fight together.

Hunter watches me closely, and the moment it all clicks into place, he nods at me, giving my shoulder a firm tap before settling back into his seat. He picks up the menu, as casual as ever, like we didn’t just have one of the most life-altering conversations.

“She’s waiting for you,” he says simply, peeking over the menu at me with a smirk.

I press my palms to my eyes and blow out a breath.

When I look back at him, my throat tightens. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, “for saving my life.”

“We’re brothers,” he states. “Before, now, always.”

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