Page 65 of Before We Break Again
“Just remember to follow the therapist’s instructions carefully,” Halsey advises, her eyes focused on Santos.“No overexerting yourself.You don’t want to set yourself back.You could damage your leg if you push too hard.”
Santos turns his head just enough to meet her eyes and salutes her.“Yes, doc.”
I clear my throat, trying to cut through the tension that’s settled in the car like a thick fog.“Maybe we could grab dinner tonight to celebrate,” I suggest, injecting as much enthusiasm as I can muster into my voice.No, not just a little—a lot, because this tension is choking me.It’s suffocating, and I can’t breathe in this space where everything feels wrong and I have no idea how to fix it.I’m desperate to fix it.
So fucking desperate.
“There’s that new place by the lake,” I continue, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.“They opened last Friday.”
“Sounds good,” Santos replies after a beat, his voice calm, almost too calm.He leans back in his seat.There’s an ease to him that I envy, like he’s found some kind of peace in all of this tension, even if just for a moment.But then again, Santos has always been better at pretending everything’s fine.He learned it from his parents.
The question of how he’s dealing with his own underlying issues almost slips out, but I hold it back.Not the time.
I steal a glance at Halsey.She hesitates, her gaze flickering between Santos and me, something unreadable in her eyes.For a second, I think she’s going to say no.My breath catches, waiting, waiting ...And then, finally, she nods.
“Sure,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.“It would be nice to go out for a change.We could give the night off to our chef.”
“Great,” I say, trying to smile as naturally as possible.“It’s a date then.”
But the silence that follows feels heavy, and not the kind that’s comforting or shared.It’s the kind that makes every moment stretch just a little too long.
As we pull into the driveway, the familiar sight of the ranch feels both comforting and bittersweet.Back when we lived in Blissful Meadows, the three of us used to laugh freely, no awkwardness or doubt hanging between us.But now, everything feels ...fragile.Like we’re walking on eggshells, trying not to disturb whatever delicate balance we’ve managed to create during these past few weeks.
I park the car, the gravel crunching under the tires, and we step out into the crisp afternoon air.Santos adjusts his crutches, his movements slow but deliberate, refusing any help.Halsey instinctively steps forward to assist, but he shakes his head with a soft, grateful smile.
“I’ve got it,” he assures her, his voice gentle but firm.
She steps back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.“Of course.”
We walk inside, and the now familiar scent of wood, flowers, and clean linen greets us.Santos heads toward his room, the sound of his crutches tapping against the hardwood floors echoing through the hallway.
“I’m going to rest for a bit before dinner,” he says, his voice tired but not defeated.“Therapy or not, doctor’s visits always wear me out.Plus, I’ve got a meeting with my therapist in an hour.Today’s topic: how my father’s expectations fucked me up, followed by how much I hate that my mother never stands up to him when it comes to her child, not even when I was young.”
Halsey’s expression softens, the corners of her mouth pulling into a sad, understanding smile.“Do you need anything before you rest?”she asks.
He pauses in the doorway, turning back to us.For a moment, his eyes linger on Halsey, and I can see the words he wants to say hanging in the air between them.You.But instead, he shakes his head with a small, weary smile.“Thanks, but no.The day we dive into how much it hurt when they took my girl away, I’ll drag you along to the session.”
Halsey gives him a bittersweet smile, one filled with all the things she avoids saying, at least not now.Maybe not ever.And that’s the thing if we don’t say anything, maybe we’ll never be able to fix us.
Santos disappears into his room, and the soft click of the door closing leaves the house quieter than it was before.The tension that had been simmering earlier is still there, but now it feels more like an ache—something unresolved, waiting in the corners of our lives.
I glance at Halsey, who’s still standing in the hallway, her arms crossed like she’s holding herself together.
“How are you holding up?”I ask softly, my voice low, careful.
She meets my eyes, and for a moment, the guarded look she’s been wearing fades, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.She opens her mouth as if to say something, but then closes it, exhaling slowly.
“You need to at least tell me how you feel,” I say, almost begging.
“I’m trying, okay,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath.“I’m trying, but ...it’s hard.”
What exactly is she trying?To fix us?To keep herself from unraveling?I can’t tell.There’s something in the way she says it, like she’s not sure of anything anymore.And maybe none of us are.Maybe I made a fucking mistake and we were better on our own.
She meets my gaze, her eyes swimming with a mix of emotions I can’t quite put into words.“I’m okay, it’s just ...I didn’t think it would be like this when I agreed to come.We can’t do much because we’re all so busy processing our own problems.We’re so fucked up, and I keep wondering ...what if we can’t really come together?”
I nod slowly, letting her words sink in.“I know.What’s worse is it feels like we’re all tiptoeing around each other.”
She sighs softly.“I just don’t want to complicate things further.Santos needs so much support right now, and you and I ...What if I’m just here, breaking us more?Ruining everything?”
