I nod.
He studies me a beat longer, then the tension breaks as Micah and Heather wander down, hair a mess, still half-asleep.
Rafe straightens, the edge easing from his voice. “I’m going to wake the basement goblins,” he says, already moving away. I can’t help but stare after him for a moment.
Heather immediately wraps me in a tight hug, and I breathe her in.
“Alright,” Adela says, turning the coffee maker back on. “Let’s caffeinate and talk.”
The back porch creaks quietly as Heather and I step outside, the cool morning air nipping at my face. The river runs just ahead of us. She hands me my mug, and we sit side by side on the steps, shoulders barely touching. Steam curls up between us from our second lattes of the morning. I wrap both hands around the warmth for comfort. For a long moment, neither of us speaks.
I stare out at the water and try not to picture Jude chained to a wall. Try not to imagine blood or bruises. Or his eyes empty and black like they were in my dream. I tell myself that I can’t afford that right now. Fear and panic are useless. If I let myself fall apart, then I could mess this all up. Adela, Rafe, Nico, and Kieran really seem to know what they’re doing, so I trust them.I can't imagine coming up with extravagant plans like they do. Clearly, they have experience.
Plus, I don’t know this world the way they do. They kill people like it’s no big deal. And I cry in my car after work when my clients tell me something particularly disturbing. I’m empathic, and sometimes I truly believe it’s a blessing. But other times, a curse. Heather always joked around and called me “vanilla,” but it’s because I’m okay with being quiet. I’m okay with sifting through the thoughts in my head, and contemplating what makes people strong and what makes them break.
“Do you think…” Heather starts. She swallows. “Do you think it’s actually going to work?”
I don’t answer right away. I watch the river instead, how it keeps going no matter what it runs into. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. My voice is steadier than I feel.
Heather nods like she expected that answer. She pulls her knees up to her chest, her pink pajama pants peeking out beneath the blanket she stole from the couch.
“I've never wanted to kill anyone before,” I admit quietly. “But when I think about what they’re doing to him right now…I feel sick. Every minute that passes feels…awful. Like I’m failing him by not being there. Adriana still hasn’t posted anything, which is really weird." Dread pools through my stomach. "I hope they’re okay.”
My throat tightens, but I breathe through it. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.
“But I can’t lose my mind,” I continue. “Not if I want to get him back. Someone has to stay clear. Someone has to think. His mental health was already...not the best.”
Heather’s gaze softens. “You’re allowed to be scared, Em. I am. I love him, too. Micah’s been beside himself, actually. But he’s trying to be strong, I can tell.”
“They love each other so much.” I blink. “Last night was nice. You guys coming in. Thank you for that.”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand with a kind smile. “We’ll snuggle you any time, okay?”
That almost makes me cry right there. I open my mouth to respond when the porch door creaks again. Micah steps outside, rubbing a hand over his face, hair still messy. He takes one look at us and sighs.
“There you are,” he says gently. “Figured you’d escape after all that.” He drops down behind me and tugs me back against his chest without asking, his warmth instantly grounding. His chin rests on the top of my head, and I melt into him immediately.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “You okay?”
“Working on it,” I say. "I'm realizing that we're going to have to walk through hell to get him back. And I've been thinking…" I wet my lips. "My patients. So, sometimes, when someone is put through immense trauma, it takes a piece of them. Of their soul. And I believe that where we're going…it's going to hurt us. What if we don't come back the same?"
Heather sighs.
Micah tightens his arm around me. “It's entirely possible. I've thought about it a lot myself. Jude has changed a lot throughout the years. So have I.” He pauses. "But whatever is left of all of us, we'll always love each other, okay? No matter how damaged or broken we are. Even if we fit together like jagged little pieces. We'll be together."
For a few minutes, we just sit there, listening to the wind swaying the trees and the river flowing. I close my eyes briefly, pressing my fingers into Micah’s arm to feel his warmth. It comforts me.
Eventually, Heather stands, stretching. “I’m going to go take a shower and get dressed. You going to be alright?”
“Yeah, thank you.” I pause, reaching for her hand. “I love you, Heather.”
A genuine smile blooms across her pretty face. “I love you, too, Em.” And then she’s heading back inside.
Micah stays. “You don’t have to be strong every second,” he says quietly. “I’m barely keeping it together, honestly.”
I tilt my head back just enough to look at him. “I wish I could just talk to him. I want to know if he's even thinking about us.”
Something flashes through his eyes, but it’s gone within the next moment.