They hadn’t needed explanations.
They’d just come.
“They stood up,” she says quietly. “All of them.”
I nod.
“They didn’t think about it.”
“No.”
She smiles faintly.
“That’s how you reduce the risk,” she says. “Not by running. By belonging.”
The word settles somewhere deep inside me.
Belonging.
I’ve never questioned mine here.
Not until now.
Not until I saw how easily someone else could question hers.
She studies my face.
“You’re part of that,” she says.
“I didn’t do anything special.”
“You did exactly what you needed to do.”
Her voice is calm.
Certain.
She isn’t trying to make me feel better.
She’s telling the truth as she sees it.
I don’t know how to argue with that.
So I don’t.
I just hold her hand.
And stay.
Chapter 17
Christina
The first morning Ireturn to the shop feels quieter than it should.
Not empty. Just aware.
The key turns in the lock with the same familiar resistance, the door opening onto the scent of damp earth, green stems, and something faintly sweet still in the process of becoming itself. Nothing here acknowledges what happened two nights ago. The buckets stand in their usual places. The counter holds the same scratches from years of use. The radio murmurs softly in the background, filling the space with something steady and ordinary.