| General Fiction posted March 3, 2025 | Chapters: |
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Chapter Six
A chapter in the book Red Defiance
The Edge of Autumn
by Jessica Wheeler
It happened quickly, the way it always did.
A minute ago, I was there. I was a part of it, laughing with them, feeling something close to normalcy. Then suddenly, I was an observer—behind an invisible barrier placed firmly between us, as if I never really belonged at all.
It was inevitable—a fundamental truth that kept me just outside, no matter how hard I clawed to get back in.
I felt hollow, like my body had been reacting to something—a parasite unleashed by my own mind. The shift was effortless. It was an evening stroll in autumn that led to winter—the rustling leaves beneath my steps turning to ice before they could fully change.
A minute ago, I was there. Then, just like that, I wasn’t.
“Hey.”
I blinked.
Holly leaned toward me, her voice low, eyebrows slightly raised. I hadn’t realized she was watching me. But she was. Closely.
“You good?” she murmured, just for me to hear.
I forced a smirk, shaking off the heaviness that clung to me. “Have we met?”
Holly snorted, nudging my arm. “Right. Good point. Well, snap out of it anyway, will you? We’re in peak chaos mode, and we both know you don’t want to miss that.”
I hesitated.
Her voice softened. “Jay, listen to me.” She squeezed my arm. “You’re okay. You’re here. Just… be here.”
Something in me loosened—just a little.
You’re okay… She said it so easily, like it was an indisputable fact. And maybe, to her, it was. My tendency to slip into the dark was nothing new. I would go quietly—often and unnoticed. But Holly always knew. She could sense the coming fall from the first slip, and nothing could stop her from getting to me.
Still, part of me was always afraid—afraid the distance would stretch too wide that they’d stop trying.
But Holly didn’t stop. She never would.
She was steady hands in deep water, an anchor against the pull: the rope and the rescue I didn’t deserve.
And she was right.
I was still here. My head above water.
I inhaled, rolling my shoulders back.
Time to climb back up.
~
In the middle of one of his infamous stories, Jack had everyone's attention—using his full wingspan for dramatic effect.
“—so I’m hanging there, halfway out of the attic, holding onto the beam for dear life, while Hazel—who, I remind you, was seven—looks me dead in the eye and says, ‘That was a bad idea, Daddy.’”
Hazel giggled shyly. “Well, it was,” she muttered, still coloring.
My dad nearly fell over. “She’s already smarter than you.”
Jack sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. It’s humbling.”
Melissa, watching with a mixture of amusement and confusion, turned to Holly. “What was he even doing in the attic?”
Holly took a long sip of her wine. “Jack got it in his head that he could install recessed lighting with zero experience and minimal research.”
“Excuse me—I watched a YouTube tutorial,” Jack defended.
Still catching his breath, Evan clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You fell through the ceiling, pal.”
Holly nodded. “Oh yeah. Full foot through the drywall. It was incredible.”
Jack waved a hand. “Details.”
Layla, now thoroughly invested, gasped. “Wait—so you were stuck, Daddy?”
Jack sighed dramatically. “Yeah, honey. But don’t worry—your mom eventually stopped laughing and helped me out.”
Holly grinned. “It took a while, though.”
Layla ran to her dad. “I would’ve helped you, Daddy.”
Jack smiled, scooping her up. “I know, baby. Glad someone appreciates me.”
“Hey, I appreciate your commitment to bad ideas,” Evan smirked.
“Oh, you,” Jack joked, swinging Layla up and tossing her to Evan.
“Again!” she squealed, clinging to her uncle’s arm as he flipped her upside down to tickle her.
Diana winced. “Evan, easy…” she warned nervously.
“Yeah, you might want to be careful, Ev,” Holly added. “She’s had a lot of juice.”
Holly turned to me, and I couldn’t hold it in. We lost it, collapsing onto the couch as we laughed.
Diana let out a long-suffering sigh. “Well, come on, girls,” she gestured for Hazel and Layla. “Let’s wash our hands and head to the dining room. Lunch is ready.”
~
The table was full. Plates were passed back and forth as small conversations drifted between bites of food. It was nice—comfortable, even.
Across from me, Evan had been surprisingly relaxed. But now and then, his eyes would hover on me, like he was trying to figure something out.
“Jay,” he said suddenly, his voice curious. “You still writing?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Uh… yeah,” I said hesitantly. “A little.”
He nodded, gaze steady. “Good. That’s good.”
It wasn’t much—a simple remark, almost offhand—but it made my chest ache. I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded.
“I always liked that one you wrote about the shoreline,” he said, his expression soft. “The one with the line about a distant storm—something about drowning on dry land.”
I blinked. I hadn’t thought about that poem in years.
“You remember that?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Evan shrugged. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, smirk returning.
I laughed. Just barely. And for a moment, it felt like something was starting to settle—like we were moving past the rocks, treading toward steadier ground.
But then, I felt it—the change.
Like the moment before a storm, when the air stills right before the first crack of thunder.
Evan cleared his throat.
“So,” he said, “what happened with UConn?”
Holly stopped chewing.
Dad’s expression didn’t change, but I saw the way his hand twitched slightly against the table.
Even Layla and Hazel, who had been quietly arguing about something, went quiet.
“Evan,” Holly cautioned, but he ignored her, his eyes locked on mine.
“Two months, Jay,” he said, his voice low but pointed. “You were there for two months. What the hell happened?”
I went rigid, forcing myself to swallow. “I wasn’t ready,” I said evenly.
“Ready,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Right.”
That small reaction, the dismissal in it, burned through me.
And just like that, the fragile peace between us snapped.
“What?” I asked, my voice defensive.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just… you’re never ready. Always the one who somehow can’t do what everyone else manages to.”
Jack exhaled, tilting his drink.
My pulse hammered. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, Jay,” he lied. “I’m sure you have some clever excuse prepared.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, louder than intended.
Jack stood up. “Okay, girls, let’s go find where Grandma hid the dessert,” he said, motioning to his daughters. He glanced at my sister, who nodded and gave him a small smile before he disappeared into the kitchen with Hazel and Layla.
“Look,” Evan continued, “you're smart, Jay. You're exceptionally smart—smarter than all of us, in fact. And you had a chance to do something about it—something good, for a change. I was—”
He paused, only for a moment. “I was proud.”
I stared at my brother, guilt curling in my stomach. His eyes held so much disappointment—pain, even, and it was all my fault. I wanted to disappear.
But then I remembered. I remembered the last time we were in the same room. The anger in his voice, the disgust in his eyes, and how I felt when his palm cracked across my face like a judge handing down a sentence.
I stood, my hands shaking. “Well, luckily, I don’t need your approval. This was my decision. I didn’t do this to you, Evan,” I said, quiet but sharp.
“No,” he shook his head, a small laugh escaping. “You didn’t.”
I scoffed. “You act like I asked for this—like I asked to be such a burden. I didn’t ask for any of it, and I sure as hell didn’t ask you to do anything.”
“That,” he said quickly, eyes pinning on me. “That right there is what worries me most. You don’t even realize that what you did…” He paused to take a long, deep breath. “We never had a choice, Jay.”
His words hit me like another slap.
“I was drowning, Evan! You think I wanted to be like that?”
“You didn’t just drown,” he said bitterly, his voice rising now. “You dragged all of us down with you.” His voice cracked, but he pushed forward. “And you know what the worst part is? You chose it. You made a choice every single time you picked up. You chose to sink deeper, knowing we’d follow. Because we’re tied to you, Jayden.”
My chest tightened painfully, and tears stung my eyes. “I didn’t—”
“You did. You chose to risk your life,” he interrupted, his voice trembling with anger now. “After everything…”
He rubbed his neck and blew out a breath, like he was bracing himself for what came next.
“He didn’t have a choice. Jeremy didn’t have a second to stop that car. But you? You had every chance. And you didn’t care.”
The mention of Jeremy knocked the air out of my lungs. “That’s not fair,” I whispered.
“Fair?” he whispered back, pinching his eyebrows together as if confused.
I knew what was coming.
He stood, pushing his chair back as he shot up from the table, then fired, “Let’s talk about fair, Jayden.”
I tensed.
“Do you think it’s fair that Dad had to sit by and watch you deteriorate, afraid you wouldn’t come home after every failed attempt at rehab? That Mom constantly bounced between denial and panic—how she would literally shake with fear whenever the doorbell rang? Or how Holly, after everything she did for you, had to find you like that last year?”
He glared at me, fists clenched at his sides, waiting. But I said nothing. I just stood there, one foot in the dark, prepared to slip, as each word pushed me closer to the edge.
“What’s unfair is that he didn't get to live. Jeremy was innocent. He didn’t get to choose, and he never saw it coming.”
Evan paused, inhaling deeply, almost hesitant. But he went on.
“I’ll never understand it. He’s gone, Jayden. He died, and we will all feel that for the rest of our lives—no one more so than you. And I am so sorry, Jay, I’m so sorry for that. But you…”
I slowly lifted my eyes to meet his.
“You are still here. You’re here. You are alive, and you don’t even appreciate it.”
“Son,” my dad warned, but Evan wasn’t finished.
“Maybe it is some disease, or whatever. Maybe I’ll never understand what it’s like for you. But you will never understand what it’s like for us—your family, Jayden—the people who love you.”
“Evan…” Another warning, our dad’s voice a little louder now.
“It’s like…” Evan shook his head. “It’s like we are right back there, Jay. Only this time, it’s you. And we are just watching it unfold. We’re banging against the window, screaming at you, begging you to stop and turn back. We see the car coming and know you see it, too. We bang, and we scream, and you…”
Holly’s sob made him pause. He looked down and then back at me—his eyes darkening.
“And you… you just pick up speed. You know it’s coming, and you make a choice—a choice Jeremy never had. And we have to watch, helpless, as you step into the street, and right in front of that car—”
“Evan!” Dad’s voice boomed across the room, louder than I’d ever heard it. “That is enough!”
Holly and Melissa went still. Diana lowered her hands from her face and stared at my father—standing now, his chest rising and falling heavily.
I panted, feeling tears spill down my cheeks before I could even blink. I couldn't look at him.
“What do you want from me?” I struggled, breathing out each word.
“I want my sister back!” he shouted, his voice breaking, slicing right through me.
Those words hung in the air, raw and commanding—exposed for all to take in.
His anger burned, stretching around the room and climbing the walls like fire. But something else was hidden beneath the fury, igniting the flames.
Terror. It was written all over him. In his eyes, on his face, and in the way his hands clenched as if he were trying to hold himself together.
“I want her back,” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.
And then he left.
Darkness gave a final tug. And I began to plummet.
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