Asher comes around the car, stands beside us. Lily pulls back, looks up at him. "You guys are here. Finally. I was starting to get worried."
"Couldn't let him have all the fun." Asher grins, that easy, cocky grin that still makes me want to punch him sometimes. "Besides, someone has to make sure he eats breakfast."
"He doesn't like breakfast." Lily's voice is serious, knowing. "He drinks coffee and pretends that counts."
"See? You already know him better than I do."
Lily laughs. The sound is bright and startling, a child's laugh, free and unguarded. I've never heard her laugh before. Never seen her smile like this, open and unafraid.
This is what we fought for. This moment. This girl. This chance at something better.
"Come on." I stand, take her hand. "Let's go inside. You can tell us everything we missed."
The facility is different than it was before we left.
The halls are brighter, somehow. Doors propped open instead of closed. Children moving through the corridors in small groups, some talking, some silent, but all of them present in a way they weren't before.
Elliot meets us in the main room, looking less exhausted than he did before we left.
"They're responding," he says without preamble. "The therapy is helping. We've had three children remember their real names. Two more have started speaking that weren’t before. One of the older boys is helping in the kitchen."
"Good. Maybe there’s hope yet.”
Elliot nods. “We’ve got some of the best therapists here. It’ll happen, it’s just gonna take time.”
Lily tugs at my hand. "Can I show you my room? I painted the walls. Elliot let me pick the color."
"Yellow," Elliot says. "She wanted yellow because it was the brightest color they had."
"Yellow sounds perfect." I let her pull me down the corridor, Asher following behind.
Her room is small but warm. Yellow walls, as promised, covered with drawings in crayon and marker. A bed with a purple blanket. A shelf lined with books, some new, some old and battered. A stuffed rabbit that's seen better days, tucked carefully against the pillow.
"I drew those." Lily points at the wall. "That one's the house I want to live in someday. And that one's a dog. I've never had a dog, but I want one."
I study the drawings. A house with a big yard. A dog with floppy ears. People standing in front, stick figures with smiling faces. Two tall ones and one small one.
"Is that us?" Asher asks, pointing at the stick figures.
Lily nods, suddenly shy. "Is that okay? I wasn't sure if... I mean, you said I could stay, but maybe you didn't mean forever, and I didn't want to assume—"
"It's okay." I cut her off before she can spiral. "It's perfect. I like the dog."
"His name is Biscuit."
"Biscuit." I look at Asher. "Apparently we're getting a dog named Biscuit."
"I'm not walking it in the rain."
"That's fine. Lily and I will walk Biscuit in the rain, and you can stay inside and be boring."
Lily giggles. The sound warms something in my chest, loosens a knot I didn't know was there.
"Do you want to see the garden?" She's bouncing now, energy radiating off her in waves. "The big kids are planting vegetables. Tomatoes and carrots and things. They said I could have my own patch if I want."
"Show us."
She leads us through the facility, chattering the whole way. Telling us about the other children, the therapists, the food, the games they play. Her words tumble over each other, fast and eager, like she's been saving them up for days.
