I went into the dressing room, closing the curtain and fiddling with the awful lime green dress I had on. “Maybe in another life I would’ve been a comedian,” I said, my nose wrinkling at the thought. I craned my arm over my shoulder, trying to get the zipper and letting out an aggravated grunt.
“Something wrong?” Alexander asked outside.
“No,” I grumbled. “I just can’t reach the zipper.” I tried again and failed. I dropped my arm in defeat, peeking out through the curtain sheepishly only to lurch back in surprise, finding Alexander already there. “Gosh.”
“Sorry,” he said with a small laugh. “I wasn’t peeping. I just figured you might need help and you drew the curtain back before I could ask.”
I nodded and let him step inside the fitting room, the curtain falling shut as he did. “Thanks,” I said, lifting my hair and turning away from him. “It just zips down if you could get it started for me.” I glanced into the mirror, my eyes meeting his when I did. His mouth was pressed into a slim smile, adamp sheen to his forehead, and I immediately regretted asking. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” I said. “Sit back down. I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting that you’re in pain.”
“Arden,” he muttered. “Shut up.”
I frowned.
He gently took hold of the zipper, tugging it down slowly. “I want you to try something for me,” he said. “For the foreseeable future, particularly in my presence, never apologize for simply existing. You’re not a burden, not a waste of space, not any other thing I know you’ve got running around in that head of yours.” He met my eyes again, his look stern. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly, “and worth every ounce of space you take in this life and the next.”
I didn’t believe him. But I wanted to. “Alexander…”
He matched my frown and tugged the zipper down a little more. “Call me Alex. My family calls me Alex. Always.”
“Alex.” I swallowed. The nickname felt wrong in a way, like I was betraying Creed. So I immediately corrected myself, straightening. “Alexander, that’s enough. I can get the zipper now.” Being alone with him like that felt… intimate in a way I didn’t have language for. It wasn’t sexual. I remember very distinctly that there wasn’t any hidden sexual charge between us. It was more like a platonic need, like pieces from the same puzzle trying to slot together and lean on one another. And I couldn’t fathom that, having the desire to care for someone like I did with my little family of Creed.
He halted, his eyes slowly drifting down to my back as if he’d forgotten what he was doing. His throat worked, and he stilled. He looked a little bit horrified by the act of touching me, and I recalled how he’d told me from the beginning that he didn’t want to.
“Thank you for tonight,” I said, softening my stern tone slightly and drawing his attention back to mine in the mirror. “Iprobably would’ve sat in my room crying all night if it weren’t for you all.”
Alexander smiled a genuine smile. “Happy wife, happy life, right? Isn’t that how the saying goes?”
“I think so,” I managed.
His smile wobbled, some semblance of pain crossing his features. I hated that he hadn’t told his friends, hisfamily. They deserved to know. I opened my mouth to say as much, but—
“He’s doing well,” Alexander muttered. “Rafe. I thought you’d want to know.”
My heart squeezed. The fact that he’d remembered, thought to tell me, mattered more than I wanted it to. I took in a deep breath. “Good,” I said. “He was expensive for a reason. You’ll want him anywhere with guns.”
Alexander nodded. “Thorne and Kane have settled into their new roles. All three of them ask about you daily. Mickey sends them updates. Thorne said he hoped you got your hands on a bike. I’ll have to rectify that for you.”
I shut my eyes and let the words wash through me like warm water. Relief was a treacherous thing. It always came with teeth in my world. Even there, surrounded by dresses and fluorescent lights and the ridiculous normalcy of trying on clothes, my body kept waiting for the catch—for the part where the air shifted and everything went wrong. But there wasn’t a catch. There was only Alexander’s voice and the knowledge that my family was free somewhere because he’d made it so. I hated how quickly gratitude made me feel small. How it softened me in places I’d spent years turning to stone.
“Kane’s taken well to the fight scene in London, so much so that Buyers have come to me asking to purchase him. Don’t worry, I turn them down, but a couple times Kane’s agreed just to get more information on S.I.N. I refused, of course. I neversend a Raven back in like that. So he’s safe and he says he misses you.”
I smiled softly and clutched my hand over my heart. “I miss them too. So much.”
“Rafe’s been quiet,” he admitted, “but he finally started working with the foster homes. Matthias says he’s adjusting. The kids fucking love him. He’s been teaching them how to defend themselves, and at a few homes there’s been deaf kids that he’s teaching ASL.”
I sniffed, tears welling.
“He says he hopes you’re happy too.”
Too. My heart tumbled over that word. It meant Rafe had said that he was, and suddenly all the guilt I felt for walking away that day began to recede. We deserved to know ourselves, and it seemed like he was making an effort. “Thank you,” I said again, and that time it wasn’t sharp or clipped.
Alexander held my eyes for a long time. Neither of us said anything. We just stood there, looking at each other in the mirror, and there was a sense of mourning. Like if we’d been different people with different childhoods, maybe he wouldn’t be terrified to accidentally touch a woman and I wouldn’t be terrified to smile at a man. I remember how our faces softened as we stared, and I remember how he smiled a little bit as if in offering for me to do the same. I resisted, the cheesy pop song filtering through the store wrapping around us, and then I let my mouth tilt upward. It wasn’t a full smile, but it was more than I offered most strangers.
“Rafe is an incredibly lucky man,” he said, and it wasn’t with jealousy or ire. It was completely matter of fact, as if he was reading the statement from a legal document back to me.
“Deep down I know it was a mutual decision to remain separated,” I admitted, "but part of me thinks that he must hate me for not choosing to run with him."
His smile fell, his look serious as he pinned my eyes in the mirror. “If there’s anything I remember most about Rafe Creed, it’s that the kid had a heart big enough to eat hate alive. More than that, he doesn't run away, not unless it's to save someone else. The decisionwasmutual, and heishappier. Rafe is healing, Arden. You all are, and that's not something to beat yourself up over. You should be proud of yourself for taking that step.”
