Chase carries the bassinet upstairs, moving carefully. Emma follows, Sofia held against her chest, and the house quiets as they disappear. The house settles into nighttime rhythms. Creaking floorboards, the heater kicking on, the distant sound of water running through pipes.
Maya leans against me, exhausted but content, her body warm along my side. "I'm so glad your mom doesn't hate me."
"Why would she hate you?"
"For corrupting you?"
I laugh. "Pretty sure I corrupted you."
"Mutual corruption, then."
Max jumps onto the couch with an annoyed meow, likewe've kept him waiting, and settles between us with his usual dramatic flair. Maya scratches behind his ears, and he purrs immediately.
"This is it, isn't it?" she says softly, and there's wonder in her voice.
"What?"
"Everything we've been fighting for. Emma forgave us. Your mom approves. Ethan has a healthy baby sister. I have a job starting next month. We don't have to hide anymore, don't have to pretend or lie or sneak around."
"Yeah. This is it."
She's quiet for a moment, fingers still working through Max's fur. "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"That it won't last. That something will go wrong. That I'll wake up and realize this was all..." She stops, swallows hard. "I've never been this happy. I don't know what to do with it."
I turn her face toward me. "You live in it. You let yourself have it. You stop waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"Easier said than done."
"I know, but I'm not going anywhere. This..." I gesture around the house, at the life we're building here. "...this is ours now. You don't have to earn it or prove you deserve it. You just get to have it."
Her eyes are wet. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Mom was right. I spent years being an idiot, too scared to risk what we had for what we could be, too comfortable in the safety of friendship to reach for more.
But we made it. Through the lies and secrets, through Emma's anger and the trial, and every obstacle that could have torn us apart. We made it, and now, sitting in the house where Maya first arrived broken and suicidal, watching her sleeppeacefully in my arms, I can see how far she's come. Not perfect, and certainly not without scars. But whole in ways that matter. And I get to be here for all of it.
40
MAYA
Ithrow up in the hospital bathroom before my shift starts, gripping the cool porcelain like it's the only solid thing in the world.
First day back. Different hospital, different city, different everything. Hartford General instead of Pinewood Memorial. New scrubs, new badge, new coworkers who don't care what happened to me. Who just sees me as a person, not my trauma.
It's a fresh start.
Except my hands won't stop shaking.
I stare at myself in the mirror. Dark circles despite sleeping well, exhaustion written across my face, the pendant visible above my scrub collar, catching the fluorescent light. Jackson wanted to come with me this morning, offered to walk me in, wait in the cafeteria, anything I needed. I told him no. This is something I need to do alone, something I need to prove to myself.
"You've got this," I tell my reflection.
My reflection doesn't look convinced.
