Page 93 of Mended Fences

“Good. Fine.” I fidgeted with my water glass, unable to meet her eyes. I’d practiced this speech with Jackson a dozen times, and a hundred more on my own. But now that she was sitting in front of me? Words seemed real hard. “Charlie, I’m so sorry. What I did—taking you on that bike when I was high—it was unforgivable. I could’ve killed you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know how sorry I am.”

“Water under the bridge,” she said brightly.

“Water under the bridge?” I repeated slowly.

My baby sister sighed and let her cheerful smile drop. “Yes, Chase. I’ve seen firsthand how people can let their past mistakes define them, make them think they’re unworthy of love or happiness”—her eyes flicked toward the man at thecounter—“and I will not let you do that to yourself. You made a mistake, and yeah, it sucked. But you were hurting and sick, and now you’re home and doing better. You’re my brother, and I love you. And I forgive you.”

Jesus.Fat tears streamed down my face, because this was not at all how I expected this to go.

“I—” I took a deep inhale. “Thank you, Charlie.”

She smiled up at me and asked, “Okay, are we done with the heavy stuff now? Kai really wants to join us for dinner.”

I let out a watery laugh. “Sure.”

My sister waved her broody boyfriend—my sponsor—over to join us. He slipped into her side of the booth and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders.

“I gotta be honest, this is still a little weird for me.”

“You’ll get over it,” was all Kai said.

Chapter Thirty-Two

CHASE

Now, December 2024

I couldn’t stop checkingmy phone for Elena’s daily schedule, like some lovesick teenager waiting for a text. When she’d started sharing it with me without hesitation, something in my chest had loosened—a tiny victory I probably didn’t deserve. These days, I structured my entire life around those hospital shifts, filling every spare moment between the cidery and ski lessons with whatever Elena would let me do for her.

Jeff had shocked the hell out of me by offering one last chance at the resort—emphasis onlast. Thedon’t fuck this uphad been implicit in his tone. Between that and the cidery job Elliot had grudgingly given me, I was keeping busy. And staying busy meant less time to think about Elena, about the baby, about all the ways I could still mess this up.

Today, I was planning to replace the rotting steps on herback porch with Dad. The wood had practically crumbled under my boots when I’d checked them last week, and the thought of Elena—pregnant Elena—navigating that death trap in the middle of the night had me calling my father before I could think twice. I knew fuck-all about carpentry, and the last thing Elena needed was me botching a home repair on top of everything else.

But that would have to wait. Right now, I was white-knuckling my steering wheel, driving an hour south to see Jackson. One week out of rehab, and I already had more to confess than I knew what to do with. Seven days of sobriety that felt more like seven years. I’d made it to meetings whenever I wasn’t working, though some nights I’d just sat there in silence, counting the seconds until I could escape.

It’d been a helluva week, but I liked to think Jackson would be proud of my first seven days outside the walls of Harbor Hall. Turned out, he had a lot to say, but it wasn’t,“I’m so proud of you, Chase, good work.”

When I sat on the couch opposite the leather chair in his office, his exact words were, “Dude, what the hell?”

Today’s session wouldn’t be like our daily chats in Harbor Hall. Today, I was seeing Jackson in his outpatient office in another little coastal town, just like Sable Point.

“I’m sorry?” I reared back, a little offended that those were the first words out of his mouth.

Jackson’s face hardened as he stared me down from his leather chair. My fingers drummed against the arm of the couch, a nervous habit I’d picked up in rehab.

“I texted you six days ago. You said you were heading into ameeting. I messaged you again two hours later, and I haven’t heard back since.”

A grin tugged at my lips despite the guilt gnawing at my gut. The concern in his voice warmed something inside me, even as I tried to deflect it.

“Awe, Jacky, were you worried about me?”

His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing behind his thick-rimmed glasses. The familiar look of disappointment made me squirm like a kid caught sneaking cookies.

“Don’t deflect. What’s going on? You’re here, and you look good. So what gives?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to razz him for saying I looked good, but I’d just get scolded like a damn child again. My palms grew an uncomfortably clammy as I spilled the truth instead.

“Elena’s pregnant.”