Her breathing eventually slows, the storm easing. After a while, she pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes red and tired.
I brush a tear from the corner of her eye. “C’mon,” I say gently. “Let’s go inside.”
She nods and I help her out of the truck. I squeeze her hand, grounding her, guiding her.
Tonight hurt. Tonight was heavy. But we step inside together, bruised, not broken.
Chapter 22
Megan
I pull into Cody and Karissa’s driveway just after three, the afternoon sun cutting sharply through the windshield. Mason’s working late tonight, and when Karissa texted asking if I wanted to come over, I said yes without thinking twice.
Because I know she’s struggling.
The front door’s unlocked, so I let myself in. “Hello?”
“In here!” Karissa calls from the kitchen.
I find her at the counter, pouring two glasses of iced tea.
“Hey,” Karissa says with a small smile. She looks…better. Not perfect. Not glowing. But better. Her hair’s pulled back into a neat ponytail, she’s wearing jeans instead of sweatpants, and there’s color in her cheeks.
“Hi,” I say, stepping closer.
“Thanks for coming.” She gestures toward the living room. “Come in. Sit.”
We settle onto the couch, Gage still visible from where we’re sitting, Emma playing beside him on the floor.
“How are you?” I ask carefully.
She exhales, tipping her head back against the cushion. “I’m…okay. Some days are better than others.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She wipes at the condensation on her glass. “I started a medication a few weeks ago. My therapist was on board, and of course, my doctor too.”
“Yeah? That’s good! How’s it going?”
“I don’t know yet.” She lets out a soft laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “They say it takes four to six weeks to really work. So I’m just…waiting. Hoping, praying.”
I nod, unsure what to say.
“It’s weird,” she continues, quieter now. “I know logically it’s supposed to help, but right now I just feel…the same. Maybe a little less irritable? But that could be placebo. Or just Gage sleeping better lately.”
“Do you feel like therapy’s helping?”
She pauses, thinking. “Yeah. I think so. The bad days still feel really bad though. But my therapist keeps reminding me that progress isn’t linear.” She glances at me. “Whatever that means.”
I smile gently. “It means you’re allowed to have bad days and still be getting better.”
“I guess.” She takes a sip of her drink, eyes drifting toward Emma. “Cody’s been…really patient. More patient than I deserve.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.” Her voice cracks, just barely. “I’ve been such a mess. And he just…keeps showing up. Keeps trying. Even when I push him away.”
My chest tightens. “That’s what love is, Karissa.”
