I poured myself a bourbon over one giant cube and slid open the lanai doors, stepping into the cool night like it might slap the confusion out of me.
Nancy dragged herself after me, nails ticking across the tile before she collapsed again, this time at my feet like some grumpy little nanny making sure I didn’t wander into the living room and wake her charge.
I leaned on the railing, sipping my drink as the sky deepened from peach to plum, the city below glowing as it stretched to wake itself up for the long night ahead. The river bended lazily in the distance, wide and winding, slow as molasses, carrying with it the weight of a hundred stories. Laughter floated up from the cobblestones, tourists chasing ghosts, to-go cups inhand, unaware they were walking through some place sacred. Savannah didn’t rush you. She curled her fingers around your wrist, whispered low and lazy in your ear, and taught you how to stay still. How to listen. How to love a city for the way it breathes.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Magnolia. She answered on the third ring, her voice bright and clipped like she was mid-wedding task.
“Charlie Pruitt. If this is another speech about Dane or the wedding, I swear to—“
“It’s not.” I cut her off before she could get going. “It’s about Tally.”
There was a pause, the kind that always showed up right after I said the wrong thing.
“What about her?” Magnolia asked, a little softer now.
“So she is seeing someone, isn’t she?”
More silence. Then a sound, almost a laugh—but not quite.
“Why?”
“No reason.” I looked out across the balcony, down at the city, at the rooftops and windows lit up in quiet defiance, like the world didn’t know I was up here bleeding out. “Just wondering what I’m walking into.”
She was quiet for a beat longer.
“I don’t know, Charlie. But I think you’ve already walked into it.”
I sighed, taking another long pull of my drink. “I just don’t want to get hurt, Mags.” It was the only time I’d admit it out loud, and I would admit out loud to my sister, and my sister alone. “Nothing’s even happened yet, and I feel like the girl’s already broken my heart.”
“You know, Charlie,” Magnolia started, sounding like she was settling in. If I had to guess, she was curling up by the to-go window, waiting for someone, anyone, to stop by. “Maybe you’llget hurt. Maybe you won’t. But you know what I guaranteewillhappen?”
Leaning back onto the ledge, I turned my body to face the lanai door. The soft, warm glow of the TV spilled over the couch and across Tally’s sleeping body. “What’s that?” I asked, voice like gravel.
“You will have done something for yourself, for once, and you could let that be enough.”
I didn’t have a response for that, so I took another sip, scratched behind Nancy’s ears, and let the silence stretch between us like a line I didn’t know if I wanted to cross.
***
She slept most of the night on the couch, buried under the blanket I’d pulled over her, Nancy wedged behind her knees. I should’ve gone to the guest bedroom. Could’ve stretched out, gotten actual rest. But I didn’t. I stayed on the too-small loveseat across from her, stiff and wide awake.
It started as concern. She hadn’t looked well. But at some point, the excuse thinned, and I was left with the truth: I didn’t want to leave her alone. Not in case she needed water or a trash can. But because I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Arms crossed, eyes closed, I refused to give the thought space. It didn’t matter what I wanted. She had enough on her plate. She didn’t need someone else hovering. Still, I stayed. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, one arm tucked around her stomach, the other folded beneath her cheek. There was peace in the room—the kind that only shows up when someone feels safe—and I couldn’t look away.
By the time I drifted off, ten or fifteen minutes at most, the city outside had settled into that middle of the night softness. Whatpulled me back wasn’t the sound of traffic or the ache in my back. It was her.
I opened my eyes and found her standing in front of me. One half of her face caught the faint glow from the streetlamp, the other shadowed in the quiet. Her arms were crossed, but there was no fire in her expression. She didn’t look angry or annoyed. She looked tired in a different way. Guarded, but open.
“You’re snoring.” She nudged me gently, voice low.
I rubbed a hand across my face and tried to sit up without making it worse. The throw blanket slid into my lap. My shirt was twisted. My neck ached. But she was watching me.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
I glanced toward the kitchen and then back at her. I didn’t have a good answer. I hadn’t meant to stay out here all night. I hadn’t planned anything, but I couldn’t lie.
“You looked comfortable.”
