"Yeah." My own voice sounds foreign to me—hoarse and weak, nothing like the woman I used to be. "It's me."
"God." I hear him exhale, a long, shaky breath. "I've been going crazy not hearing from you. How are you? Are you okay? Are they treating you right?"
I want to tell him the truth.
That the past two weeks have been the hardest of my life.
That I've hallucinated my dead mother telling me I'm going to die.
That there have been moments when walking out the door seemed like the only option that made sense.
But I don't want to worry him more than he already is.
"I'm okay," I say instead. "It's... it's hard. But I'm getting through it."
"That's my girl." I can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes my chest ache with how much I miss him. "I knew you could do it. I knew you were strong enough."
"I don't feel strong, Blood. I feel like I've been run over by a truck. Multiple times."
He laughs—a real laugh, warm and full—and the sound of it makes tears prick at my eyes.
I'd forgotten what his laugh sounds like.
How it fills up a room.
How it used to make me feel like everything was going to be okay.
"You're doing something most people can't even imagine," he says. "That's the definition of strong, Van."
We talk for the full fifteen minutes.
He tells me about what's happening at the clubhouse, carefully edited to remove anything that might stress me out.
Ruger's been checking in on him every day, making sure he's eating, making sure he's not drowning in the silence of his empty room.
Maddox has been coming by the garage to sit with him while he works, not saying much—that's not Maddox's way—but being there.
Present. A solid, silent reminder that he's not alone.
"Aunt Ellie's been bringing food," Garrett continues. "Enough to feed an army. I think she's convinced I'm going to waste away if she doesn't stuff me full of pot roast every other day."
I smile at that, the first real smile I've managed in weeks. "She loves feeding people. It's how she shows she cares."
"I know. I've gained five pounds since you left." He pauses, and I can hear the shift in his voice. Something more serious. "Leah came by once."
My heart stutters. "She did?"
"Yeah. Things are still... tense. Between us, I mean. She's still angry about everything. But she asked how you were doing."
"She asked about me?" I'm surprised enough that I forget to hide it.
"Yeah." Garrett pauses. "She's... she's not ready to forgive you yet. But she's not as angry as she was. I think maybe she's starting to see that you'rereallytrying this time."
I don't know what to say to that.
The jewelry I stole from Leah sits between us like a ghost, a wrong I can't undo no matter how clean I get.
But maybe Garrett's right.
