"Come on, Ava," Everest's voice was softer this time, but there was an edge of frustration beneath it. He stood by the bed, his hand brushing gently against my shoulder. "You've gotta eat something... or at least get up for a little while."

I heard him. I always heard him. But it was like his words couldn't reach me—like I was too far gone to care. My body felt heavy, weighed down by the same numbness that had swallowed me whole since Nana left. I kept my eyes fixed on the same spot on the wall, hoping that if I stayed still long enough, he'd just give up and walk away.

But he didn't.

"Babe," he murmured again, his voice softer but laced with growing desperation. "It's been days. You can't keep doing this."

The bed dipped as he sat beside me, his fingers brushing through my hair in a gesture that used to make me feel safe. But now... I barely felt it. I was too lost in the emptiness to let it reach me. His touch, his words—they all felt so distant, like they belonged to another world I wasn't part of anymore.

"I know it's hard," he whispered, his voice strained. "But you've gotta let me help you."

I felt his gaze, the weight of his concern pressing down on me. But I still couldn't move. I couldn't speak. The thought of sitting up, of facing the world—even for a second—felt impossible. I was too tired, too drained to even try.

Everest was quiet for a long time after that. I could feel him trying to hold on, trying to be patient, but the tension in the air was thick.

"Jesus, Avery," he muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper, but this time there was no softness—just exhaustion. "I've been trying. I've been trying so damn hard, but I can't keep doing this."

My stomach twisted painfully at the frustration in his tone, but I still couldn't look at him.

"You're not even trying," he said, his voice sharper now. I felt him stand up, the bed shifting as the warmth of his presence disappeared. "I get that you're hurting... but I can't keep standing here, talking to a wall."

The hurt in his voice cut deeper than I expected, but I stayed frozen, my throat tight, unable to make a sound.

"Let me know when you decide to care again," he muttered, and this time, when he turned and left the room, the door didn't close softly. It clicked shut with a finality that echoed through the silence, leaving me alone—again.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed after Everest left. Minutes? Hours? It all blurred together. The silence in the room was heavier now, suffocating, pressing down on me like a weight I couldn't lift. I hadn't moved, still curled up in the same spot, my mind stuck in that endless loop of why.

Then, I heard the door creak open again. My heart clenched, hoping it was Everest... but the footsteps were different. Lighter.

"Ava?"

Austin.

His voice was softer than usual, without the teasing or sarcasm he always threw my way. I kept my eyes on the wall, unwilling to face him. I wasn't ready for another lecture or another round of pleading.

"I know you probably don't wanna hear it," he said quietly, but I heard the shuffle of his feet as he moved closer. "But I'm not gonna just leave you like this."

I felt the bed dip beside me, but he didn't touch me. He just sat there, giving me space. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, and for once, I was grateful. The silence wasn't as heavy with Austin here—it felt... different.

"You know," he finally said, his voice softer, almost thoughtful, "I used to think you were the strongest person I knew." He let out a small laugh, but it wasn't filled with humor. "You never let anyone see you fall apart. Not after your parents...and even survivin this guy, you came back like nothin happened."

My throat tightened, and I blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"But Ave..." His voice dropped, filled with something I couldn't quite place. "Being strong doesn't mean shutting everyone out. It doesn't mean pretending like you don't feel anything."

I swallowed hard, my eyes still locked on that damn spot on the wall.

"I know it hurts," he said, his tone barely above a whisper now. "And I know it feels like everything's falling apart... but you're not alone. You don't have to do this by yourself."

My chest tightened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt something crack through the wall I'd built around myself.

"Please, Ava..." His voice was barely holding it together now. "Just... let someone in. Let me in."

I squeezed my eyes shut, but a single tear slipped down my cheek. I felt Austin's hand rest gently on top of mine, and this time... I didn't pull away. I couldn't.

My voice was barely above a whisper, shaky and broken. "I don't know how..."

Austin's grip tightened just enough to let me know he was there. "You don't have to know how," he murmured softly. "Just don't give up on trying."

Sitting here with Austin, his hand still resting lightly on mine, I felt the smallest crack in that armor I'd built around myself. I wasn't holding it together anymore. I was letting go, even if just a little. And it was terrifying.

"I'm so tired, Austin..." My voice was barely above a whisper, but the words felt heavier than anything I'd ever said. "I'm so tired of pretending I'm okay."

Austin didn't say anything right away. He just squeezed my hand gently, giving me the space to finally let it out.

"I've been holding all of this in for so long..." I blinked, feeling the tears start to well up again, but this time, I didn't try to fight them. "And it's like... no matter how hard I try to move on, it just... it just keeps pulling me back."

Austin's thumb brushed softly over the back of my hand. "What happened, Avery?" His voice was quiet, steady—but there was something in it that told me he was ready to listen. Really listen.

I swallowed hard, feeling my throat tighten. "New York," I whispered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

His grip on my hand tightened just a little, but he stayed quiet, letting me take my time.

"I thought I could start over there," I said softly, my gaze dropping to my lap. "I thought getting away from everything here would help... but it didn't. It just... followed me." I paused, my breathing uneven as the memories I'd buried started clawing their way back.

"I thought Logan was going to be the answer to all my problems," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "At first... everything was perfect. He was charming, sweet... he made me feel like I was the only person in the world." I felt my throat tighten, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the memories, but they came rushing back anyway.

"I was so sure he was what I needed. I was desperate for something—someone—to make everything better. And for a while, it felt better. But then..." My voice trailed off, and I shook my head, feeling the familiar sting of tears in my eyes.

Austin stayed quiet, but I could feel the tension radiating off of him. His hand was still on mine, grounding me, keeping me from falling apart completely.

"But it didn't stay perfect," I finally whispered, my voice cracking. "It started small. Little things... like him getting jealous if I talked to another guy. Or making comments about what I was wearing." I swallowed hard, the memories getting harder to say aloud. "I thought... I thought it was just because he cared."

"But it wasn't, was it?" Austin's voice was low, barely above a whisper.

I shook my head, feeling my chest tighten. "No... it wasn't." My voice broke, and the tears I'd been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled down my cheeks. "It got worse. He... he'd get so angry over the smallest things. And then he'd apologize... say he didn't mean it... that it was my fault for pushing him."

My body started trembling, and Austin's grip on my hand tightened, grounding me as I forced myself to keep going. "I believed him, Austin. I thought... maybe if I just tried harder, if I didn't make him mad... things would go back to the way they were."

A heavy silence filled the room, and I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. But then... the hardest part clawed its way to the surface, and I felt the weight of it crush me all over again.

"When I came back to Florida..." My voice caught, and I had to swallow the lump in my throat before I could speak again. "I... I found out I was pregnant."

Austin's hand tightened on mine, and I felt his whole body go still beside me.

"I didn't tell anyone," I whispered, the tears coming faster now. "I was too scared... too ashamed. I didn't even know how to feel about it. Part of me... part of me was terrified because it was his baby. But another part of me..." My voice broke, and I squeezed my eyes shut. "Another part of me thought... maybe this was my chance. My chance to do something right."

I took a shaky breath, my voice barely audible now. "But then... I lost it." The words felt like daggers in my throat, each one cutting deeper than the last. "I lost the baby, Austin."

I couldn't hold back the sob that escaped, and I felt Austin's arms wrap around me, pulling me close. I buried my face in his chest, finally letting myself fall apart.

"I'm so sorry, Ava..." His voice was broken, filled with so much pain, and for the first time, I didn't feel alone in my grief.

I wasn't carrying this weight by myself anymore. Austin was here... and he wasn't going anywhere.

Time slipped away as Austin and I talked, the weight of everything feeling just a little lighter with each passing moment. It had been so long since I'd let myself just be—to sit with someone who wasn't trying to fix me, just be there.

Austin let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face before finally speaking again. "I've been staying with Brooke," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "Trying to do right by her."

I looked at him, searching his face, and for the first time in a while, I really saw him. He looked exhausted, but there was something else there too—something steady, something sure.

"I've always loved her, Avery," he said, and the honesty in his voice made my chest tighten. "Even when I was too stupid to realize it, even when I hurt her—I think I've always known. And now, I just want to be the man she deserves."

A part of me wanted to be surprised, but I wasn't. I had seen the way he looked at Brooke, even when he didn't realize he was doing it. I had seen the way she softened around him, even when she tried to act like she hadn't. And maybe, deep down, I had always known too.

I gave him a small nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "She loves you too, you know," I said softly. "She always has."

Austin let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "I hope I haven't screwed it up too much."

"Austin," I croak, my voice rough from disuse.

He looks at me, brows raised. "Yeah?"

With as much energy as I can muster, I pull myself up, pushing the blanket off of me. "I think I'm finally ready to get up and shower," I say, trying to inject some positivity into my voice.

Austin watches me for a second before letting out a low chuckle. "Thank God," he jokes, standing from the bed. "I thought I was gonna have to leave the room just to catch some fresh air."

I roll my eyes, coughing as I grab a pillow and chuck it at him. He catches it with ease, smirking. "See? You're already getting your strength back."

I shake my head, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I don't feel completely weighed down. Maybe I'm not okay yet—but this? This is a start.

••••••••••••••••••••

EVERESTS POV:

I sat in the kitchen, my back leaning against the counter, listening to the soft sounds coming from the bedroom. I could hear Avery's voice—so much quieter than usual, the walls she'd built up starting to crack. My heart twisted as I tried to focus on her words, desperate to hear what she was saying.

"But then... I lost it." Her voice broke, and it hit me like a punch in the gut. Each word felt like a dagger, cutting deeper than the last. I gripped the edge of the counter, trying to keep myself steady, but hearing her say those words... It was almost too much. "I lost the baby, Austin."

I could barely breathe. The weight of those words settled over me, and I felt my chest tighten. I wanted to go in there, to be the one to hold her, to make her feel less alone. But I couldn't. This was her moment, her grief, and I knew I wasn't the one she needed right now.

I heard Austin's voice, soft and filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, Ava..." His words cracked under the weight of his own pain, and I could hear him pull her into his arms. I could almost picture the way he wrapped himself around her, offering the comfort I wasn't allowed to give.

I felt a pang of jealousy, not for Austin, but for the way he could be there for her in a way I couldn't. I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cool surface of the counter, feeling the weight of her pain settle into my own chest.

I was lost in my thoughts when I suddenly heard Austin's voice calling out for me, sharp and urgent. "Everest!" His tone caught me off guard, and I immediately rushed toward the bedroom, my heart picking up speed. I pushed open the door, already bracing myself for whatever I was about to walk into.

When I saw Austin, I knew something wasn't right. He was already crouched by the side of the bed, his hands gently trying to help Avery sit up. Her legs were hanging off the side of the bed, her body limp, like she had no energy left to do anything. Her face was pale, and her eyes were downcast, as though she were completely disconnected from the world around her. Her blanket had slipped off her body, resting in a pile at the foot of the bed, and Austin was doing his best to support her weight.

"Everest," Austin said again, looking up at me with a mix of frustration and helplessness. His hands were still gently guiding her, trying to help her find her balance, but it was clear she wasn't responding. She was too far gone in her head, lost in the fog of everything she had been through.

I stepped forward, instantly taking over. Without needing to say a word, I gave Austin a quick, knowing nod. His eyes met mine briefly, then he backed away slowly, not needing any further instructions. I could see how much it hurt him to leave her, but he knew I could do this.

I moved closer to Avery, my hands gently resting on her shoulders as I helped steady her. She didn't fight me, but I could feel how fragile she was, like any moment she might collapse back into the bed. "Hey, I'm here," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady for her sake. She didn't answer, but there was a slight shift in her, a small flicker of recognition that I was with her.

I carefully helped her stand, supporting her every step of the way, and I could feel her trembling under my touch. "I got you," I said softly, trying to reassure her, though I wasn't sure if she was even processing the words. I guided her into the bathroom, feeling her weight shift against me as she leaned on me for support. When we reached the bathroom, I gently set her down on the cool tile floor, watching her for a moment as she sat there, still distant, her eyes unfocused.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, giving her some space. My mind was racing, but I pushed the anxiety down, focusing instead on the task at hand. I turned the faucet on, adjusting the temperature of the water to make sure it was just right. As the steam began to fill the air, I turned back to her, making sure she was steady and comfortable.

I slowly undressed her, my hands moving gently and deliberately, as I knelt down on the floor in front of her. I could feel the fight in her—her body tense, her gaze unfocused but still trying to hold onto some semblance of control. I could see it in the way she hesitated, the way she pulled back slightly when my hands got too close, and it broke something inside of me. I knew she wanted to do this herself, to take back some control over her body and her life, but the weight of everything she'd been through was too much.

It took everything I had to be gentle with her. To move slowly and carefully, giving her the space she needed, even though my own body was screaming with frustration. I wanted to take her pain away, to erase all the horror she had gone through in New York. The rage inside of me boiled, wanting to lash out at anyone who had caused her suffering, wanting to make them feel every ounce of the hurt she was carrying. But I couldn't. Not now. Not when she needed me to be the calm in the storm.

I fought against the anger that was rising in me, holding it back with every ounce of willpower I had. The thoughts of what she'd gone through up there, the abuse, the manipulation, the lies, it was enough to make my blood boil. I wanted to tear through everything and everyone that had ever hurt her.

I gently helped her into the tub, feeling her body relax slightly as the warm water surrounded her. I slid in behind her, positioning myself carefully so I could hold her without overwhelming her. Her back pressed lightly against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her, keeping her close but not crowding her. The sound of the water lapping around us was the only noise in the room, a steady, soothing rhythm.

I grabbed the soap, letting the lather build in my hands before I carefully started washing her skin. I moved slowly, methodically, trying to be as gentle as I could. The feeling of her trembling against me made my heart ache, but I didn't rush. There was no need to rush. This moment wasn't about anything but giving her a small sense of peace, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice so small and fragile that it broke something deep inside of me. I didn't know what I was thanking her for—maybe for trusting me, for letting me help her when she wanted to shut everyone out. I held her tighter for a moment, my chin resting on the top of her head, before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere, Avery," I whispered back, my voice thick with emotion. "You don't ever have to thank me. I'm here."

The warmth of the water, the softness of her, it felt like the world outside had just disappeared. There was nothing but her, nothing but the quiet and the closeness, and for a moment, it felt like maybe we were okay.

At least for now.