“A fourth therapist might be able to crack that,” Hanna said.
Milo scoffed. “Maybe.”
“So what you’re saying is, you’re just healed enough to function, but still ridiculously fucked up.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “That.”
“Fascinating.”
Milo watched the sunset over her shoulder, pressing his lips together.
“People fear losing their loved ones, but people like us know that’s not the scary part. There’s nothing to it. They’re here and then they aren’t. It’s finding yourself after that’s truly terrifying.”
Hanna considered this. “I think that’s why I’m so stuck.” She took a long sip of her drink, the slow burn just enough feeling to push the rest of her thoughts out. “I start to see a version of myself that’s less exhausted, and I shut it down. If I’m not a falling-apart mess, if I can wake up without immediately wanting to go back to sleep…” Her throat swelled around the next thought. “Moving on feels like signing the papers to stop treatment again.”
She swallowed, his eyes softening. The worst part about Milo was that he understood the darkest paths in her mind. He saw the pain, and he didn’t judge it, but he didn’t let her hide it either.
The tears started slowly enough, but then they hit all at once, choking her as the sob she’d been suppressing for months ripped through her chest. Milo did not hesitate to stand and pull her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight hug while she let it all go. It came in crashing waves, the breath in her lungs fighting to break through the crush.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped.
Milo smoothed her hair. “I’m not.” He let her cry in his arms before he eventually moved her to his bed, curling around her while she shattered into a thousand pieces until she finally passed out.
When she woke up the next morning, the dishes were done and the sunflowers had moved from the dinner table to the coffee table with a hot latte and a promise to see her soon.
She was halfway through the latte when she got a text.
ALWAYS ANSWER
I’ve never seen someone sleep as hard as you did last night.
HANNA
I don’t think I’ve slept for more than three hours at a time in a year.
ALWAYS ANSWER
You can cry yourself to sleep in my arms anytime.
Sorry I had to leave early this morning. Got called in for an emergency.
HANNA
That’s okay! I’m going to take the day off. Maybe go for gold and cry in public.
ALWAYS ANSWER
That’s my girl.
She stared at her phone, the last three words doing something to her stomach she knew was a red flag, wrapped in caution tape, steeped in misery.
And yet, she smiled.
Stupid, idiotic, so very dumb.
THIRTEEN
“It’s the oxygen.”
