"Vee." He locks his eyes onto mine. "No one is taking you anywhere you don't want to go. That's done. That's over. You are going to choose from now on. Do you understand me? We will find a way. No matter what."
I look at him for a long moment.
Then I nod.
He releases my face and goes back to whatever he was doing, which was also nothing, just orbiting me at a slightly larger radius.
The morning moves like cold syrup.
Alex reminds me three times that Chase is optimistic. Finn makes tea I don't drink and sits beside me on the couch and lets me spiral without trying to talk me out of it, which is somehow more helpful than words. Rhys doesn't say much but at some point he positions himself in the armchair across from me and stays there, a steady presence, and every time the anxiety spikes I find my eyes going to him and the knot loosens slightly.
Around ten I give up on the couch and go to Rhys instead.
I just climb into his lap without asking. He shifts to make room for me, arms coming around me with that automatic careful certainty he always has, his chin resting on the top of my head.
"What if it goes wrong," I say into his chest.
His purr starts, the broken depth of it vibrating through his sternum into mine, soothing in a way he knows I need right now.
"Then we handle it," he says.
"How?"
He's quiet. Then: "Together."
It's not a detailed plan; it's not a guarantee. But how he says it—flat and certain, like it's just a fact he's reporting—calms me in a way that nothing else has managed all morning.
I stay in his lap.
The hours pass.
Chase's car pulls up at two-seventeen.
I'm out of Rhys's lap and on my feet before the engine cuts.
Through the window I can see both of them—Chase in the driver's seat, Arden getting out of the passenger side. Their shoulders are loose, their steps unhurried… it's the body language of positivity.
I'm practically bouncing on my toes by the time the door opens.
Chase comes in first.
He looks at me.
And he smiles.
It's not a big smile. Chase doesn't do big smiles. But it's real and warm and the expression of a man who has spent months working toward something and has just watched it land.
The breath goes out of me all at once.
"They ruled against him," I say. Not a question.
"They ruled against him," Chase confirms. "Guardianship removed, effective immediately. He's been fined and given extensive community service."
I turn and throw myself at Alex.
No warning, no hesitation—I just go straight to him. His arms catch me and close around me and I hold on with both hands fisted in his shirt. His face comes down against the top of my head and he holds me there like he doesn't care about anything else in this moment. The flag, the registry, the careful distance he's been maintaining for months… none of it matters at this very second.
Just this.
