"I think some part of me has been punishing myself for being the one who lived. For taking up space and resources and care that should have gone to people who deserved it more. For allowing myself to need things when needing things got them killed."
The room is very quiet.
Tyler slides off the couch and kneels in front of me, his hands on my face.
"Listen to me," he says. The same words I said to him three nights ago in this same room. "You surviving is not a debt. It's not a punishment. It's not an injustice. It's just what happened. And you have spent two years making yourself smaller and more careful and more alone, trying to make up for the crime of being the one who lived. And you don't have to, Red, you don't have to do that anymore."
I'm crying. Properly, without managing it.
"You are allowed to be here," he says. "You're allowed to take up space. You're allowed to love people and need people and be needed." His thumbs brush my cheeks. "And your mom, whatever she sees from wherever she is, I have to believe she wants you here. Present. Alive in all the ways. Not spending the extra time being careful not to use it."
I'm crying too hard to speak.
He pulls me into his arms, and we stay here on the floor for a while, both of us just holding on.
Eventually, I stop crying.
"Two broken people," I murmur into his shoulder.
"Yeah." I can feel his breath against my hair. "Maybe that's why it works."
"Because we both know what it costs to lose someone?”
"Because we both know it's worth the risk anyway."
I sit back enough to look at him. His face in the dark, tired, certain, and completely mine.
"I'm glad I rang your doorbell," I say.
He almost smiles. "Best decision you ever made."
"Arrogant."
"True."
I laugh a little, watery, and he tucks me back against his chest.
Four days until the hearing. Four days until a judge decides if we keep her.
But right now, tonight, it's just us in the lamplight, two people who have lost things and chosen each other anyway.
And that's the part that matters.
Not the losing.
Thechoosing.
39
TYLER
It's finally Thursday morning, and I'm wearing a suit that costs more than my first car, standing outside a courthouse mediation room, trying not to throw up.
Pre-trial mediation. 10 a.m. to noon. One last chance to settle this before it goes to a full trial next week.
Nora's beside me in a navy dress that makes her look professional and competent, her hand gripping mine so tight I'm losing circulation. Ms. Chen is on my other side, briefcase in hand, looking ready for battle.
Harper's with Michelle and Liam at their place; it’s safer than bringing her here, safer than risking Jessica seeing her before the trial.