Chapter 63

Wednesday, June 12

The hospital sits in the hills above the town, and Walter’s bright room faces west, with a view down to the beaches and the ocean. But Holly doubts his eyesight is good enough to appreciate much of it. Besides, he has only been back to himself for the past few days.

After the paramedics brought Walter to the ER, he was diagnosed with a broken hip from his fall in the smoke-filled solarium. The surgery to pin the hip went smoothly enough, but afterwards he suffered an acute post-operative delirium that left him confused for weeks. Most of the time, he was convinced he was still in his own home, and he frequently called out for his long-dead wife.

Holly now finds her grandfather sitting up in bed, his untouched lunch tray in front of him. She kisses his forehead. “It’s good to have you back, Papa.”

Walter chuckles. “Speak for yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

“At my ancient age, carbon monoxide poisoning wouldn’t have been such a bad way to have exited stage left.”

“No one’s exiting anywhere. Even if you’re ready, I’m not.”

He shrugs. “Now that my brain is functioning at a level slightly higher than an ostrich’s, remind me again what happened.”

Holly summarizes the events from the day of the fire for him and then says, “Reese figured I was another loose end she had to tie up. And she saw you as the means to do it.”

“There’s kind of a rich irony to that. Using DMT to get rid of us.”

Technically, the hookah was her means, but Holly understands his point. “Reese found a way to weaponize psychedelics.”

His shoulders dip. “They’re not the panacea we both hoped, are they?”

“Don’t be so sure. After all, a huge part of Reese’s motivation was her desire—her need—to maintain ketamine therapy. In her mind, it was the only thing keeping her sober.”

“Now she has prison for that.”

Holly pulls up a chair beside his bed. “I refuse to give up on the promise of psychedelics in therapy, Papa. Of course, they’re not foolproof. What is? Besides, not all traumas are surmountable.”

Walter nods. “And not all damaged souls are repairable.”

“Agreed. Ketamine didn’t turn Reese into a killer. Her desperate desire for sobriety did.” She swallows. “There’s something else, too. About my last DMT trip…”

His eyelids crease. “What about it?”

“I saw Dad again.”

Walter’s chin drops. “Haven’t we’ve been through enough?”

She lays a hand on his shoulder, which feels even bonier than before. “The details from the accident came back to me after the DMT. The real events. I remember everything now.”

“Maybe so,” he murmurs. “But do I have to know?”

Holly considers her words carefully. Her grandfather doesn’t need to hear about her parents’ separation or the other woman in her dad’s life, though Holly suspects Walter has always known. She doesn’t plan to tell him about the conversation where she begged her dad not to go. But only after the fire did Holly realize just how much she had idealized her father since his death. He had been willing to leave her, which Walter never would have done.

And it wasn’t only memories of the crash that came back to her. She now also recalls how withdrawn and unavailable her father had become in the months leading up to that fateful car ride, when he must have already been planning to leave.

Initially, after regaining the memories, Holly felt only relief. Despite what she had feared, she hadn’t been responsible for the accident. She assumed that awareness would finally free her of the guilt she had been carrying most of her adult life. But over the intervening weeks, another realization slowly took shape. She felt it like a heat in her belly. Underneath the guilt, she had buried something even deeper: a fury that bordered on hatred of her dad for having chosen someone else over her.

And because she never had the chance to process that anger, it had lived with her in other ways and affected her life choices. Would she have ended up with someone like Aaron if she hadn’t been trying to fill that gaping emotional void her father had created in the moments before he died?

Still, Holly has finally found peace over the accident. And that’s all her grandfather needs to hear. She gives Walter’s shoulder a small squeeze. “It was a deer, Papa. It came out of nowhere. And Dad tried to swerve at the last second.”

Walter doesn’t comment, but his face relaxes. They sit in peaceful silence, Holly’s hand still resting on his shoulder.

Finally, he turns to her and asks, “Will I be able to go home soon?”

“There’s been a lot of structural damage.” In fact, the destruction was limited to the solarium, and the house is otherwise livable. But the geriatrician told Holly that Walter shouldn’t be living alone anymore. “You can’t move back in yet.”

He’s crestfallen. “You’re not going to put me in one of those awful homes, are you?”

“I’ve moved myself. As a matter of fact, to Dana Point. I’ve rented a house near the water. It’s not as fancy as yours, but it has three bedrooms and a garden out back that could really use your help.”

“My help?”

“I want you to move in with me, Papa. After all, as we learned, Dana Point isn’t the safest neighborhood to be living in alone.”

Walter grins again, his relief practically palpable. “But… what about Herr Professor?”

Holly pulls her hand from his arm and stands up. “That reminds me. I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late to meet Aaron.”

As she drives over to Aaron’s house, Holly reflects on how she and Walter aren’t the only surviving victims of her father’s crash. Her mother has suffered, too. Largely, in silence. The poor woman, who was never equipped to handle intense emotions, not only had to cope with the death of her spouse and her daughter’s depression, but she also had to carry the secret that her husband was about to leave her right before he died.

As Holly pulls up to the curb, she makes a mental note to call her mom again soon. Maybe even book a trip to visit her?

Aaron welcomes her at the door and wraps her in a hug. Holly is wooden in his arms, but she can’t help herself.

“I’m glad you reached out,” he says with a sheepish smile after he releases her. “How’s Walter doing?”

“He’s OK. Thanks. Pretty much back to himself.”

“Good. Please wish him my best.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“I read that article in the Orange County Register last week.” Aaron whistles. “Amazing. It just never ends with that tribe of yours.”

Holly still can’t believe it herself.

After deciding she couldn’t hide from Katy Armstrong any longer, Holly had agreed last week to sit down with her in person for an interview. She arrived at the café bracing for the worst but was surprised when the first question Katy asked was, “Is Simon Lowry still a client of yours?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Even if he was the subject of a criminal investigation?”

“He is?”

“He will be.”

“For what?”

“Sexual assault. Involving multiple victims.”

Based on all she knew, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, yet Holly still felt shocked. Not only over the accusations, but also the fact that Katy had been hounding her all along to discuss Simon, not ketamine therapy or any of her clients’ deaths.

“If Simon hasn’t been charged, then how did you find out?” Holly asked.

“One of his victims reached out to me a few months back when he first went public. After speaking to her, I tracked down others. A few of them were willing to talk on the record. They all corroborate the same story. Lecherous old rock star coerced them into sex that soon progressed to nonconsensual violence and humiliation. Your typical predator shit.” Katy snorted. “Two of them were teenagers at the time. They signed an NDA, so I’m keeping them as anonymous sources. I could do the same for you.”

“Anonymous or not, I can’t speak about clients, past or present.”

Katy tried a few other angles but eventually gave up, accepting Holly’s stance and even paying for the coffee. Two days later, the Orange County Register published her exposé on Simon. It sent immediate shock waves through the entertainment industry. And at least three separate law enforcement agencies had since opened criminal investigations into him.

While Holly felt a pang of sympathy for Simon—a man who despite all his fame and fortune was thoroughly broken—she was also relieved that he wouldn’t be able to hurt any more women.

Shaking off the memory, Holly clears her throat. “Can we talk inside, Aaron?”

“Of course,” he says and leads her into the kitchen, where they sit side by side at the counter.

Holly pulls out his house key, which she removed from her key chain earlier, and lays it down in front of him. “I thought you should have this back.”

Aaron stares at the key as if it might be radioactive. “I told you how sorry I was, Holl. How badly I feel for going behind your back with JJ. It’s just that you were in such distress. I wanted to do something—anything—to help.”

“I get it, Aaron.” Holly summons a smile. “This isn’t about JJ.”

“Is it Graham? Because things are different now. He’s not allowed over here without clearing it with me first. He won’t have a blank check anymore. And he knows to leave you alone. I’ve set those boundaries in stone.”

“That’s great, Aaron. Honestly, I think it’s what he needs.” She doubts Graham is capable of respecting boundaries, but she doesn’t push. He is not the impetus for her decision. And she had already decided to spare Aaron from learning how his son broke into her car and attempted to blackmail her.

“What then?” Aaron asks.

He looks so defeated that Holly can feel her resolve weakening. She pats the back of his hand. “This is long overdue, Aaron. It’s time we stop repeating history. We both need to move forward with our lives.”

He pulls his hand away from hers. “You said the same when you moved out. But then, after the wheels came off, who did you turn to? Who do you always turn to?”

“You’re right. I did. I do. And I’m sorry. It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” He huffs. “You need me when you’re vulnerable. When you’re in crisis. But then you don’t want me anymore when you’re back on track.”

And you need me to need you.But Holly doesn’t verbalize the thought. There’s no point in hurting him more than she already has. Instead, she says, “I’ll never be able to thank you for how much you supported me through this crisis. Without you, I would’ve gone out of my mind.”

He only stares at the key on the countertop.

“I care about you, Aaron. And I always will. But this… this is something I have to do.”

She stands to leave, but he doesn’t so much as look at her.

“Goodbye, Aaron,” she says, brushing her hand over his back before she walks out the front door.

As Holly crosses the street and gets into her car, she takes stock of her life. Her marriage is finished. Her book deal has been rescinded. Her career is seriously stalled, if not in shambles, while her practice is under ethical review. And she is about to move in with her convalescing ninety-year-old grandfather.

Still, Holly can only smile to herself. She feels freer and more hopeful now than she has in a very long time.