I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that wanting something badly enough could make it true.
But the bruises on my arm said otherwise.
Later, after the tears had stopped and I'd washed my face and we'd both pretended I hadn't just fallen apart in his arms, Brian sat me down at the kitchen table.
"We're going to the police."
"And say what?" My voice came out tired, not sharp. I didn't have the energy for sharp."A man grabbed me and told me to recant? I didn't see his face. I can't prove anything. No evidence. No witnesses. Nothing."
"They need to know the threats are escalating."
"They already know. They're already investigating. This won't change anything except add another report to the pile."
Brian was quiet for a moment. His jaw was still tight, his hands still curled on the table like he was physically restraining himself from punching something.
"Then we change our approach."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, no more subway. No more walking alone." He leaned forward, his eyes intent on mine. "I drive you to work. I pick you up after your shifts. We vary the routes. Vary the timing. We don't give them a pattern to track."
"Brian, you can't?—"
"I can." His voice was firm. "I have flexible shifts. I can adjust. And even when I can't, someone from the crew can. Shane, Garrett, Rodriguez—they'll help. They already offered."
"They offered?"
"After the break-in. I told them what was going on, and they offered." He reached across the table, his hand covering mine. "You're not alone in this, Ava. Stop trying to be."
I stared at our hands. His hands were warm, calloused from work, steady in a way mine hadn't been in weeks.
"Maybe I should just do it."
Brian went still. "Do what?"
"Recant. Say I misheard. Say it was drug babble, like he said. Make this all go away."
"Ava—"
"You've already done so much." I pulled my hand back, tucking it into my lap. "You gave up your apartment. Your crew spent an entire day moving my furniture. And now you're talking about driving me to work, rearranging your shifts, asking Shane and Garrett to—" I shook my head. "This is my problem. My fight. I can't keep dragging everyone else into it."
The words felt true even as I said them. I'd spent my whole life refusing to need anyone. And here I was, needing everything—needing Brian, needing his crew, needing protection I couldn't provide for myself.
It was too much.
"Maybe I should just let them win."
Brian was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was gentle but firm.
"You know what happens if you recant?"
I didn't answer.
"Kevin Lang walks free. His father buries this like he's buried everything else. And Derek Edwards' family spends the rest of their lives not knowing who killed their son." He leaned forward, catching my eyes. "You met them, Ava. In the ER. You looked that mother in the eye."
I closed my eyes. I could still see her face. The desperation. The grief.Please. We just need to know.
"If you recant, they'll never know. Kevin gets to keep living his life like nothing happened, and a seventeen-year-old kid stays dead in the ground with no justice." Brian reached across the table and took my hand again, gently, like he was asking permission. "Is that something you can live with?"
