“Also,” she adds, pulling back with a grin, “since I’m now legally allowed to drink, I think we all need something strong.”
I glance at the clock.
10:34 a.m.
The day has gone from blissful to shittastic to catastrophic in under two hours.
Rafe nods immediately. “Agreed.” He moves toward the kitchen, then pauses, looking back at me with open concern. “You okay?”
I’m not, but I nod anyway. “Yeah,” I say, “I will be.”
He steps away to get the liquor while I stand between my sister and my husband, heart pounding, future unraveling.
Rafe disappears into the kitchen, the sound of a cabinet opening and glass shifting grounding me in a way my own body can’t manage right now. I’m still standing where my mother left me, muscles tight, lungs working like I’ve just run suicides I didn’t train for.
Lindy squeezes my arm once. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she says gently. “I’ll give you a minute.”
I nod, grateful and barely present enough to show it. She pads down the hallway, door clicking shut behind her.
The apartment feels too quiet without her voice filling it.
I stare at the floor, at the place where my keys landed earlier, still lying there like evidence. My thoughts are racing in unhelpful loops—my mother’s face, the wordmarried, the way Rafe flinched when I saidretirelike it was a finish line instead of a cliff.
Then arms wrap around me.
Firm. Certain.
Rafe pulls me into his chest without hesitation, like he’s been waiting for permission he finally decided he doesn’t need. I sag into him immediately, the adrenaline draining so fast my knees feel weak.
“Hey,” he murmurs into my hair. “Breathe.”
I try. It comes out shaky. “I’m sorry,” I say, the words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t know they were coming. I didn’t?—”
“I know,” he says. “I know.”
He rubs slow circles into my back, steady and grounding. He smells like soap and coffee and home. The familiar weight of him against me pulls me back into my body inch by inch.
“She said awful things,” I manage. “I should’ve?—”
“You did,” he interrupts quietly. “You stood up for me. For us.”
I swallow hard. “I should’ve done more.”
Rafe pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are soft but serious. “Ollie. You were incredible.”
I shake my head, the motion small and helpless. “I froze.”
“You didn’t,” he says firmly. “You chose me. Even when it cost you.”
My heartbeat kicks hard.
“I love you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious truth in the room.
Something in me finally gives. I tug him close and kiss him, not desperate this time, not hungry—just needing to anchor myself to something solid. He kisses me back immediately, hands firm on my waist, the pressure of his mouth slow and sure.
When we part, my breathing is steadier. “I love you too,” I say, and it feels like oxygen.
Rafe presses his forehead to mine. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”
