"It's okay to want it," Nora says. "To want to stay. To want to be safe."
I shake my head. "I don't know if it is. I don’t even know how to want things anymore.”
“I started small. With wanting a full belly. Then a hot shower. Then a soft bed to sleep in.” Her hand squeezes mine again. "Eventually, as each of your wants becomes fulfilled, you'll get better at allowing yourself to want bigger and better things—and at knowing you deserve them as much as anyone does.”
We sit in silence for a moment. Hope purrs between us.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
"For coming here. For telling me your story."
Nora stands and pulls me into a hug before I can react. Her arms are warm and solid and smell like lavender.
"We're sisters now," she says into my hair. "That means you're not alone anymore."
When she pulls back, both our faces are wet.
She wipes her own eyes and laughs before winding her scarf around her neck. "Sunday. Two o'clock. Wear your nicest outfit. And remember—I’ve got your back, and so does Declan.”
I walk her to the door and watch her descend the steps to where a black SUV waits at the curb. A man in a suit opens the door for her, and she climbs inside without looking back.
I close the door and lean against it.
Sisters.
I've had foster sisters, temporarily. But never one who actually wanted to claim me as theirs.
Hope winds around my ankles, meowing.
I scoop her up and carry her to the kitchen. She purrs against my chest, a small warm weight that grounds me.
The brownstone is quiet around me. Not the hostile silence of a shelter or the wary quiet of a squat. This is different. This is...peaceful.
I set Hope down and look around the kitchen. The clean counters. The stocked pantry. The coffee maker that Declan programmed to start automatically at six every morning because he noticed I liked coffee.
He noticed.
I cross to the window and stare out at the street. A guard, whose name I’ve learned is Corcoran, stands on the corner with his hands in his pockets, looking nonchalant, but his eyes are scanning vigilantly.
This house. This man. This life. It's more than I've ever had. And I realize a truth that steals my breath.
I don't want to leave.
Not because I'm trapped. Not because I'm scared of the alternative. Because I like it here.
The realization terrifies me, and I grip the edge of the sink and force myself to breathe.
Upstairs, a door opens. Footsteps move across the floor. Declan's office to the hallway. The stairs creak under his weight.
My pulse jumps.
He appears in the doorway, phone in hand, brow furrowed. When he sees me, he stops.
"You okay?"
I nod. My voice won't work.
