Chapter 14 Chapter Fourteen

Chapter 14 Chapter Fourteen


The music blares louder, someone dragging a speaker closer to the spray of the falls. People are laughing, bottles clinking, bodies swaying. The game moves on, but it feels like all eyes are still buzzing on me.

Mara doesn’t waste a beat. She smirks, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Not bad, Ari. Guess you’re braver than you look.”

A ripple of laughter follows, and Gemma squeezes my hand under the spray, trying to steady me. I manage a smile, but Mara’s voice grates on my nerves, each word dripping with something sharp.

“Maybe she should go again,” Mara adds, her nails grazing Gavin’s arm as she leans into him. “Unless she’s scared now.”

I stiffen. The crowd perks up at the challenge, already chanting, egging me on.

“Enough.” Gavin’s voice slices through the noise, low and clipped. He steps forward, his eyes hard on Mara first, then flicking to me. “She doesn’t need to prove anything.”

But Mara just laughs, tilting her head at me. “She looks like she wants to. Don’t you, Ari?”

Something in me bristles, my pride and the alcohol tangling together, pushing me toward the edge again. My mouth opens, but Gavin’s hand clamps gently but firmly on my wrist before I can move.

“Walk with me,” he says, tone sharp but quiet, like it’s not up for debate.

The crowd groans at the interruption, but Eben swoops in, grabbing attention with another joke and daring two other guys to wrestle near the falls. The noise swallows the moment, covering Gavin as he tugs me just far enough away from the spray.

His jaw is tight, eyes burning into mine. “What the hell are you doing?” His voice is hushed but furious. “You could’ve slipped. You almost did.”

I cross my arms, my chest still pounding from adrenaline. “I was fine.”

“You weren’t fine,” he snaps, running a hand through his wet hair, water dripping down his temples. “And she—” his gaze flicks back to Mara, who’s watching us with a smug look, “—knows exactly what she’s doing.”

I swallow hard, throat dry despite the spray of mist clinging to my skin. My voice wobbles when I answer. “So what, you’re mad at me for not sitting still and doing what you want?”

He exhales sharply, stepping closer. “No. I’m mad because you keep acting like your life’s disposable, and I—” He cuts himself off, jaw clenching.

The silence stretches, broken only by the distant roar of the falls and the laughter of everyone still playing behind us.

I shift under his stare, my pulse skittering. “You what?”

But before he can answer, Mara’s laugh cuts across the rocks. “Gavin!” she calls sweetly, as if to remind both of us exactly where his place is supposed to be.

His head snaps in her direction, then back to me, and for a second I swear he looks torn straight down the middle.

Gavin’s grip tightens just slightly on my wrist, his eyes locked on mine like he’s trying to pin me in place with sheer will. “Why are you doing this, Ari? Huh? What are you trying to prove?”

The world tilts a little, the spray of the waterfall blurring my vision. My chest heaves, my words tumbling out clumsy and uneven. “Why do you even care?”

Mara’s laugh cuts in sharp, grating against my already spinning head. She presses herself closer to Gavin, nails dragging lightly down his arm. “She’s drunk, Gavin. Let her make a fool of herself if she wants to. Come on, don’t waste your night babysitting.”

I flinch, the jab biting deeper than I’ll ever admit out loud. My voice wavers as I throw the words out, louder than I mean to. “Even Josh isn’t this worried about me. My brother, Gavin. But you—” my throat tightens, my vision swimming as I force the words out, “—you act like I’m some disaster waiting to happen.”

Gavin’s jaw clenches, something raw flashing across his face before he can hide it. His grip lingers, just a heartbeat longer, like he’s fighting himself.

Mara’s hand slides up to his shoulder, tugging at him, her voice syrupy and demanding. “Ignore her. She’ll sober up in the morning. Come with me.”

For a moment, Gavin doesn’t move. His eyes burn into mine, searching, like he wants to say something but can’t.

Then, with a breath that sounds like defeat, he lets go of my wrist. The sudden absence of his hand makes me sway on my feet, Gemma rushing in to steady me.

I glance at him, blinking hard, my voice barely holding together. “That’s what I thought.”

But my stomach twists, because even through the haze, I know I don’t mean it.

And still, he turns, Mara pulling him away, leaving me with Gemma’s arm around me and a hollow ache that burns hotter than the liquor.

The laughter, the dares, the music — it all blends into a dizzy blur. My skin feels too hot, my throat dry, my chest tight with something I can’t name. Every time I glance toward Gavin, Mara’s there, tethered to him like she’s daring me to keep watching.

I can’t. Not anymore.

Leaning toward Gemma, I whisper, my words slurring just enough, “I’m done. I can’t stay here.”

Her brows knit together in concern. “Do you want me to come with you?”

I shake my head, swaying slightly on my feet. “No… I’ll be fine. Just—don’t let anyone follow me, okay?”

Gemma hesitates, biting her lip, but she nods reluctantly. “Text me when you get back.”

I muster a small smile, though my chest is tight, and squeeze her hand before slipping away from the crowd.

The noise fades behind me as I pick my way down the trail, my sandals crunching against the dirt and loose rocks. Each step feels heavier, the night air pressing against me, carrying the faint hum of the waterfall and the distant shouts of people who don’t notice I’m gone.

For the first time all night, it’s quiet enough for my thoughts to catch up. Gavin’s hand on my wrist. His voice, sharp and desperate. Mara’s laughter cutting through everything. And my own words — jagged, bitter, too raw to take back.

I wrap my arms around myself as I stumble toward the glow of the vacation town below, my summer house somewhere in the maze of lights.

I just need to be away. Away from Mara. Away from him. Away from the mess I keep creating.

But even as I repeat it in my head, my chest aches in that same unbearable way, and no amount of distance seems like it’ll be enough.

The porch light is on when I reach the house, golden and accusing against the night. My stomach sinks the second I see it.

The front door creaks open before I even reach for the knob. My mom stands there, arms crossed, her face tight with worry. Dad lingers just behind her, his jaw set.

“Arianna Grace,” Mom says, voice sharp but shaking at the edges. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

I flinch, the use of my full name hitting harder than the alcohol buzzing in my head. “I… I lost track,” I mumble, eyes fixed on the porch floorboards.

“You were supposed to be home hours ago,” Dad cuts in, his voice firm but low, the kind that makes my stomach twist. “We sat down for dinner without you. No calls, no texts. Nothing.”

My throat feels dry, words tangling on my tongue. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, hugging my arms tight around myself. “I just… I didn’t think—”

“Clearly,” Mom interrupts, her tone sharper than before. She pinches the bridge of her nose, then exhales slowly. “Where’s Josh?”

Panic flickers in my chest. I glance toward the street, empty behind me. “He… he’s still with everyone. I came back first.”

Her eyes narrow, searching my face like she’s trying to piece me apart. “Ari, are you—have you been drinking?”

My mouth goes dry. I can’t answer, not without giving myself away. My silence says enough.

Mom’s shoulders sag as she shakes her head, disappointment clouding her expression. Dad doesn’t say a word, just gestures toward the doorway. “Inside. Now.”

I shuffle past them, my heart hammering, my mind replaying every mistake of the night. The laughter, the drinks, Mara’s voice, Gavin’s hand on my wrist—

And his eyes, the way they burned when he looked at me.

I sink onto the couch, the weight of my parents’ disapproval pressing down harder than the alcohol.

And for the first time, I wonder if coming here this summer was a mistake.

Back at the falls, Gavin doesn’t notice Ari slip away until the noise shifts. He scans the crowd, that restless energy gnawing at him. Mara is still at his side, still talking, but the words barely register.

“Gavin,” Mara says sharply, tugging his attention back. “You’ve been distracted all night. If you didn’t want me here, you should’ve just said so.”

He exhales, running a hand down his face. “It’s not about that.”

Her eyes flash, hurt mixing with frustration. “It is about that. You think I don’t notice? You’re always watching her.”

He freezes, jaw tightening. Mara’s voice cracks despite her attempt at calm. “You used to look at me that way.”

For the first time tonight, he really looks at her — not just the carefully put-together image she projects, but the cracks beneath it. Mara isn’t just smug and possessive. She’s scared. Scared of losing him, scared of not being enough.

“Mara…” Gavin’s voice softens, though he can’t give her what she’s asking for. “This summer wasn’t supposed to be about… any of this. You showing up — it complicated things.”

Her eyes narrow, glossing with a sheen she refuses to let fall. “You mean she complicated things.”

Eben interrupts the tension with a loud laugh, pulling a few strangers into another round of dares. He’s all charm and recklessness, but Gavin knows his brother well enough to catch the way his eyes dart, checking on him every so often. Even behind the jokes, Eben sees more than he lets on.

Josh, meanwhile, is somewhere across the chaos, holding his own in a drinking game. He’s loud, competitive, unbothered — but Gavin knows the storm that’s coming when he finds out what almost happened to Ari earlier. That protective streak runs deep, and it’s only a matter of time before it boils over.

And Gemma — she’s the only one who noticed Ari slipping away. She stayed back, not wanting to draw attention, but her eyes followed Ari’s retreat down the trail. Her loyalty is quiet, but it runs deep, and she already knows she’ll be checking in the second she can slip away.

Gavin shakes his head, Mara’s words clawing at him, Ari’s absence heavy in his chest. He doesn’t tell Mara he’s leaving, doesn’t give Eben or Josh a chance to stop him. He just takes off down the trail, footsteps pounding against the dirt, his chest tight with an urgency he can’t name.

By the time he reaches the lights of the vacation town, his lungs burn, but it’s not from the run. It’s from the thought of Ari walking home alone in the dark, angry, hurting, and not realizing how close she’d come to disaster.

He slows when their beach houses come into view. Her porch light glows, her parents’ silhouettes visible through the window. Relief washes through him, knowing she’s safe — but it doesn’t stop the ache that settles deeper when he realizes she doesn’t want him to be the one watching over her.

From the shadows of his own yard, Gavin lingers, torn between stepping forward and retreating. Mara’s voice still echoes in his ears. You’re always watching her.

And she’s right.

The kitchen feels like it’s closing in on me — Mom pacing, Dad’s disappointment hanging thick in the air. I keep my eyes on the water glass in front of me, wishing I could shrink small enough to vanish into it.

Then the front door slams.

“Shhh,” Josh’s voice carries through the hall, too loud to be shushing himself. A second later, he stumbles into the kitchen, cheeks flushed, shirt half-untucked. He reeks of beer.

“Heyyy, family meeting?” he slurs, grinning.

Mom’s eyes widen. Dad straightens. For once, their attention is yanked off me.

“Josh Faye,” Mom says sharply, arms crossed. “Are you drunk?”

Josh blinks like he can’t quite figure out the question. “Define drunk.”

“Unbelievable,” Dad mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Both of you? In one night?”

Josh wobbles against the counter, trying for charm. “C’mon, it’s summer. We’re just having fun.”

“You’re grounded,” Mom snaps. “Both of you. Effective immediately.”

I almost want to laugh, except the whole thing makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Josh keeps trying to argue, but our parents are on him now, both talking over each other, voices rising.

I slip out of the kitchen before they notice.

The hallway is dark, quiet except for the muffled storm behind me. I lean against the wall, pressing a hand to my forehead.

“You alright?”

The low voice startles me. I look up — Gavin’s standing there, half in shadow by the back door, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair still damp from the falls.

My throat tightens. “What are you doing in here?”

“The front door was open. Figured it wasn’t the best time to knock,” he says, tilting his head toward the muffled yelling in the kitchen.

I huff a humorless laugh. “Good call.”

He studies me for a beat, his expression softer than it was this morning, though something guarded still lingers in his eyes. “You scared the hell out of me today, Ari.”

The words land heavy in my chest. I look down at my hands, twisting my bracelet until it bites my skin. “I didn’t mean to. It was just—”

“A dare,” he finishes. “But you could’ve died.” His voice cracks just slightly, and he shakes his head. “You don’t even see it, do you? How reckless that was.”

I want to snap back, to tell him he has no right to lecture me. But the memory of his arms pulling me out of the water silences me.

“Why do you even care?” The question slips out before I can stop it, shaky, raw.

His jaw tightens, like he’s holding something back. Then, quietly: “Because I do.”

The words hang there, heavier than the shouting in the kitchen, heavier than the whole night. My pulse trips over itself, and I don’t know if I should run or close the space between us.

Before I can decide, Mom’s voice slices through the hall. “Ari Faye, in here. Now.”

I flinch. Gavin steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets. Whatever was about to happen between us fractures.

“Go,” he says softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone, slipping out the back door like a shadow before I can make myself ask him to stay.