Chapter 155: The True Name

Aveline's POV

The front door of the house slammed shut behind us with a loud noise. We were all standing on the sidewalk, the music from inside still making the walls vibrate. Nobody moved for a few seconds. Everyone was completely angry at Cassian for starting the fight.

Milo was shaking his head, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, while Landon kept looking up and down the street to see if anyone had called the cops.

"What is your problem, Cassian?" Milo finally snapped, his voice sharp in the quiet air. "We just got kicked out because you couldn't keep your fists to yourself."

Cassian didn't answer. He was leaning against a parked car, his breathing rough. He wouldn't look at Reed, who was standing beside Kieran, gently holding a hand to his jaw while Daphne checked his face.

I stared at Cassian, a cold anger building up in my chest. I wasn't just mad about the party. Deep down, I was angry with him for what Daphne had told me on the campus tour.

I was angry that he had stood there, watched Silas beat up my brother, and turned around and walked away. He had abandoned his teammate in his time of need just because he was frustrated about Oliver. And now, he was still letting his anger ruin everything around him.

The walk back to our hotel was completely miserable. Nobody talked to each other. The easy, fun vibe from the hockey game was totally gone. I stayed quiet throughout the journey, keeping my head down and my hands clamped tight inside my jacket. By the time we slipped back into the hotel, we kept expecting a teacher to step out and catch us.

Somehow, we made it back to our room without anyone stopping us.

When we finally got back to our room, the quietness followed us inside. I took off my boots and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Kieran unzipped his jacket, tossing it onto the chair. He looked at me for a long time before he walked over and sat down right beside me.

"Are you okay?" Kieran asked softly.

"I'm just tired," I whispered. "Tired of the fighting. Tired of the secrets."

Kieran reached out, his hand gently covering mine. His touch was warm, and it made the tightness in my chest loosen a little bit.

"You don't have to carry it all by yourself, Ave. I know things are messy right now. But when we get through this... you should really think about Michigan. Apply there. Let's do this together."

I looked at him, seeing the genuine worry in his eyes. He wasn't trying to control me. He was trying to hold onto us. I still couldn't stop thinking about Minnesota, but applying to Michigan didn't mean I had to give up my other dreams. I could apply to both. I took a slow breath and finally nodded.

"Okay. I'll apply to Michigan."

A soft, relieved smile broke across his face. He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a gentle promise.

"When we finally figure out what really happened to Asher... I want to take a trip to Michigan with you. Just the two of us. We can explore the school, see the rink, and find a place that belongs to us. No disguises. No lies."

Hearing him say that made my eyes sting, but I held the tears back. For a few hours, we just stayed like that, talking quietly in the room until the panic faded away.

The next morning came too quickly. We packed our suitcases, checked out of the hotel, and boarded the shuttle back to the airport. The flight back to Connecticut was just as quiet as the walk from the party. The senior trip was over, and the reality of our final high school semester was waiting for us at the gate.

By the afternoon, the charter bus pulled back into the Crestwood parking lot. I said goodbye to Theo and Milo, grabbed my duffel bag, and Kieran dropped back to my house. The neighborhood looked exactly the same, but everything inside me felt different.

I unlocked the front door and stepped into the house. I expected everywhere to be silent, the way it usually was. Instead, a warm, savory smell hit my nose.

I walked towards the kitchen and stopped. My mother was standing by the cooker. She looked completely different. She was moving around easily, her posture straight, and she was healthy, cooking a real meal.

This was something she hadn't done a single time since Asher died. She either ordered food, claiming to have cooked it. But this was different; she had a wooden spoon in her hand, stirring a pot of soup, a calm expression on her face.

My heart began to thump against my ribs. Seeing her like this felt wrong. It felt connected to the mystery, like something big had shifted while I was away in Minnesota. Did she find out that I was asking around about the debt? Did someone tell her about Asher’s pharmacy records?

I felt a sudden wave of fear, and I wanted to turn around and walk away to my bedroom before she saw me. I took a soft step backward.

But my mother didn't look up from the cooker. She just turned it off and called out.

"Come sit, Aveline."

My mother hadn't called me Aveline in a long while. Hearing my real name stopped me in my tracks.