"What happened?"
"We talked. Well, I talked. He listened."
"Trevor, what did you do?"
"Protected my sister."
There's something in his voice—pain, anger, exhaustion all mixed together.
"Is he...?"
The silence stretches too long.
"He's alive," Trevor says finally. "And he's a fucking mess. Which he should be."
"Did he... did he say anything?"
Trevor's voice hardens. "Not much. He just took it. Let me say everything I needed to say."
"Trevor—"
"He's going to therapy. Starting tomorrow. Whether it helps or not, I don't know. But he's going."
I don't know how to feel about that.
"Bay." Trevor's voice softens. "I love you. You're going to be okay. You and the baby both. I promise you that."
"I love you too."
I hang up and sit in the silence of Gretchen's apartment.
Daniel's going to therapy.
Trevor confronted him.
It doesn't fix anything. Doesn't erase what he did, doesn't heal what he broke.
But maybe—maybe—it's a start.
Or maybe it's too late.
I touch my stomach, feeling the growing bump.
"We're going to be okay," I whisper. "I don't know how yet, but we will be."
For the first time in days, the panic isn't quite so overwhelming.
I'm not alone anymore. Trevor knows. Trevor's got my back.
And if Daniel's really going to therapy, really doing the work...
No. I can't think like that. Can't let hope creep in.
But whatever happens next—whether he tries to make amends or disappears forever—at least I won't be carrying this secret alone anymore.
I curl up on Gretchen's couch, pull the blanket over me, and close my eyes.
Tomorrow, I'll wake up at 4:45 AM. I'll go to Luna's. I'll make coffee and smile at customers and survive another day.
