“You’re back,” she says, like she’s still not sure she believes it.
“Yeah.”
“For good?”
I hesitate, then nod. “For good.”
Something shifts behind her eyes. Fear, maybe. Or hope she doesn’t want.
Daisy swings her legs. “Are you coming over for dinner?”
Abby stiffens instantly. I open my mouth to deflect, to give her an out.
“It’s the polite thing to do,” Daisy says. “He did save my life.”
But Abby exhales slowly. I can see the resistance slipping from her face. She always wore her emotions close to the surface.
“If you’re not busy,” she says. “We’d be glad to have you.”
I meet her gaze, heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with adrenaline.
I clear my throat. “I’m not busy.”
Daisy beams at me like I’m the best thing since sliced bread.
As Abby gathers her things, I watch them—mother and daughter, bound so tightly it hurts to look at—and something settles in my chest, warm and terrifying all at once.
A love that was once good but went bad.
A love that somehow, despite my best efforts, still burns strong inside of me.
THREE
ABBY
As we walk home, I’m holding Daisy’s hand so tightly, my knuckles are turning white.
Daisy is still talking. Of course she is. Daisy comes out of scary things the way she comes out of everything: bright-eyed, busy, determined to turn it into a story she can hold.
“And then you said, ‘I’ve got you,’” she tells Brendon as he walks beside us, “and you picked me up like I weighed nothing.”
Brendon casts her a sidelong glance, his eyes soft. “You weigh a little more than nothing.”
“I do to heroes,” Daisy announces.
He makes a thoughtful sound, like he’s taking that in and carefully placing it somewhere inside himself. “Heroes are just people who show up.”
Daisy wrinkles her nose. “That’s boring.”
“It’s true,” he says.
I swallow. My throat feels tight in a way I can’t explain without admitting the obvious.
It’s him. My first love.Helping me bring my daughter home after saving her life.
And now he’s about to invade the home I’ve spent the last decade building.
Everything is fine.
