"Thanks for coming," I say.
"Thanks for not hating me."
"I don't hate you, you're just an idiot."
He grins. "Fair."
Chase has the car running, and we pile in. Emma in front, Jackson and me in back. The pendant feels lighter against my chest, or maybe I'm just lighter.
"Where to?" Chase asks.
"Home," Emma says, then she glances back at us. "Our home. All of us."
As Jackson laces his fingers through mine, I realize something: I don't need to be fixed, don't need to be saved.
I just needed to be believed.
And today, in that courtroom with my family behind me and the truth finally spoken—I was.
37
JACKSON
Sofia's oxygen levels hit ninety-five percent a few weeks after the trial, and Dr. Stone pulls Emma and Chase aside during evening rounds. I watch from the hallway as she delivers the news. Chase wraps his arms around her, both of them crying happy tears.
Maya's beside me, her hand finding mine automatically. She's been different since the trial, lighter, like testifying cut some invisible thread that had been choking her.
"She's going to be okay," Maya says, reading the monitors from where we stand. "Look at those sats, respiratory rate is steady. She's a fighter."
"Like her mom."
"Like her whole family."
Dr. Stone emerges, smiling. "If she maintains these levels for another week, we can start discussing discharge plans."
Emma actually laughs, the sound bright with disbelief. "She's coming home?"
"Barring any setbacks, yes. Sofia's exceeded every expectation we had for a thirty-two-weeker."
Emma insists we all go home and sleep tonight—in actualbeds instead of the uncomfortable hospital chairs. Chase drives us back, and for the first time in weeks, the house doesn't feel like a war zone.
Maya starts making dinner, something she hasn't done since before the whole incident. Emma watches her from the kitchen table with Ethan on her lap, and the look on her face is complicated, still hurt but softer around the edges.
"We need to talk," Emma says.
Maya's hands pause on the cutting board, her shoulders tensing. "Okay."
"Not a bad talk, just..." Emma shifts Ethan to her other knee. "I've been thinking about everything. And I get it now."
"Get what?"
"Why you guys didn't tell me." Emma's voice is steady, measured. "I don't like it, I'm still hurt about it. But watching you testify, seeing what you went through..." She stops to compose herself. "You were barely surviving when you got here, and Jackson was your lifeline. I get why you couldn't risk losing that."
Maya sets down the knife and turns to face her with cautious hope in her eyes. "Emma..."
"I'm not saying it was right, you should have told me. But I understand why." Emma looks at me. “It was messy and stupid, but your choices came from love."
The relief that washes over Maya's face is almost painful to witness. "Are we..." Her voice cracks. "Are we okay?"
