Page 67 of Before We Break Again
“Afraid of what?”Santos frowns.
“You two don’t see it, but you’re an established couple,” Halsey says, her voice trembling slightly.“A little fucked up, sure, but for years it’s been you two.There’s a dynamic already in place, and me ...I feel like an outsider.Do I even belong here?”
The rawness of her words hangs in the air, and I can see the way her hands tremble slightly on the table.Santos reaches across, his hand hovering just above hers, hesitant, before finally taking it in his own.He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her skin, and for a moment, the tension seems to ease.
“Baby,” he says, his voice low and full of warmth, “you’ve been a part of this since the beginning.Even when you weren’t with us, you are what has kept us together for so long.Your memory, thinking what would Halsey do, how would she fix this?It’s always about thinking if Halsey would approve and if Halsey would be happy if we pull apart forever.”
I nod in agreement, leaning back slightly.“That, and sex,” I add with a slight smirk.“Sometimes it’s very fucked-up sex, if I’m being honest.We always believed you were there with us, in some way or another.”
She considers this, her gaze drifting to the serene expanse of the lake outside.“No wonder we need therapy.Here I am afraid, and you two are just surviving.This can’t go anywhere if we’re continuously in survival mode.”
Before Santos can respond, the waiter approaches.He offers a polite smile, breaking the tension in the air, and we exchange a glance, knowing this brief interruption is both a relief and a delay.
“Are you ready to order?”he asks, flipping open his notepad.
Halsey glances at the menu but doesn’t seem to really see it.“I’ll have the salmon,” she says quietly, handing over the menu.Santos orders a steak, and I go for the pasta, but my mind isn’t on the food.It’s on her—on what she’s about to say.
As soon as the waiter leaves, Halsey draws in a shaky breath, her eyes back on us, and the vulnerability is still there, but so is something else—fear.
“But what if it doesn’t work now that I’m here?”she asks, her voice trembling just enough to cut through the calm we’d been trying so hard to create.The question lingers between us, sharp and raw, peeling back the thin layer of stability we’ve been holding on to.The tension in the air grows heavy and suffocating.“I’m not some figment of your imagination that’s going to give you the answer—or tell you to mess with your mind while you’re messing with each other.”
Her words hit like a blow to the chest, and for a second, none of us move.None of us breathe.It’s the kind of brutal honesty we’ve been dancing around for weeks, the kind we’ve been too scared to say out loud.
“No, you’re real,” Santos says, his voice thick with emotion, cracking slightly.“Thank fuck this version of you is real.And you’re still the brightest star among us.”
I glance at him, watching the way his eyes soften when he looks at her, the way he’s not just saying the words but believing them, clinging to them like they’re the only truth that matters.And maybe they are.Haven’t I been saying she’s the glue we’ve needed, the one that binds us, even if we’ve spent so much time pretending we could be fine without her?That she’s better without us?
Halsey lifts her gaze, something shifting in her expression.It’s not hope, not yet, but there’s a quiet resolve there, like she’s ready to take the leap, even if she’s not sure what waits on the other side.“Okay,” she says softly, her voice steadying.“Let’s try.”
That one simple sentence—let’s try—feels like it holds everything we’ve been too afraid to ask for.Relief washes over me, cautious but real.It’s like we’re standing on the edge of a cliff, but instead of falling, we’re leaning into the wind, daring to believe it might catch us.
Santos offers a tentative smile, the kind that’s not fully formed but still there, fragile yet hopeful.“One day at a time?”
One day at a time.My fucking life has been reduced to that mantra, and it grates at me.Every morning, I wake up telling myself I just need to survive the next twenty-four hours.That I need to face the therapy sessions that peel back the layers I’ve kept hidden for years, that I need to push through the grief I’ve been avoiding since I was a kid.
One day at a time means waking up and not knowing whether I’ll fall apart by noon or hold it together until midnight.It means forcing myself to believe that time will heal everything, even when it feels like it’s only dragging me deeper into the mess.
And here we are again, applying that same fragile strategy to us.To this.
One day at a time—because that’s all I’ve got.That’s all we have.We don’t have the luxury of knowing where this will go or if we’ll even make it out of this in one piece.There are too many broken parts between us, too much we haven’t dealt with.But if we don’t try, we’ll never know if we could be whole again.
“Yeah,” I say finally, my voice low.“One day at a time.”
By the time we leave the restaurant, the stars have emerged, their reflections dancing on the surface of the lake.We walk slowly along the shoreline back toward the house, the cool night air filled with the soothing sounds of water lapping gently against the shore.
At the front door, we pause.There’s a lingering hesitation, as if none of us want the evening to end.
“Thank you for tonight,” Halsey says softly, her voice barely more than a whisper as she looks out at the stars.The glow from the sky reflects in her eyes, making them seem even brighter.“I needed this.”
Santos shifts beside me, adjusting his weight on his crutches, his face softening into a small, genuine smile.“Me too,” he says, exhaling slowly, like the tension he’s been holding for days is finally starting to slip away.“It’s good to feel ...normal again.”
I catch the way his grip on the crutches has loosened, the way his shoulders are no longer tense.He’s standing a little taller, even if he still leans on the crutches for balance.Everything we’ve been through feels a little easier in this moment, like the stars above are offering us a brief sense of peace.
I smile, nodding.“It’s a start.”The words feel bigger than they sound—like a promise, or maybe just hope.It’s not perfect, but it’s something, and right now, that’s enough.
Santos gives me a look, one that says more than words could.There’s something about being here, under this sky, surrounded by each other, that makes the distance between us feel smaller.Even with the pain and uncertainty, it feels like we’re beginning to find our way again.
We stand there a little longer, none of us in a hurry to leave the warmth of the moment or the quiet reassurance of the stars above.
