We're still rattling in our own orbits when Frankie breaks the fragile quiet. "This isn't the last one," she says softly.
Ruby's head snaps around. "I'm going to need you to workshop your timing, babe."
Frankie winces. "I don't mean today. Just… the air feels wrong. Like when a storm's still miles off, but your fillings start buzzing. This is the beginning of something, not the end."
Ruby gapes. "You seriously opened with 'this isn't the last one' and thought that would be comforting?"
Frankie presses her palms together, eyes closing. "I'm not trying to freak anyone out. I just…" She opens them and lands her gaze on me. "Some things you can't stop from coming. But you can decide who's standing next to you when they hit."
I look away too fast. The alert still glares from my phone on the table. Remain where you are. Remain calm.
My father would be in front of a camera by now if this were Chicago. Drafting a statement. Spinning a narrative before the first victim hit the O.R.
"Sloane," Maggie says, stepping closer. "Honey, sit before you fall." She doesn't wait for argument. Just guides me to the nearest cushion with steady maternal authority. I let her. My knees aren't reliable anyway.
Ruby drops to the floor in front of me, crossing her legs, forearms resting on my knees so I can feel her weight, her warmth. Tethering me, keeping me from drifting into the flashback fog.
"Look at me," she says, softer but steely underneath. "Inhale. Exhale. Stop staring like you're watching a train wreck in your own skull." I force myself to look up. Her eyeliner is smudged at one corner. It makes her look human instead of untouchable. "There she is," Ruby murmurs. "Good. You're here."
"Try again," Frankie says from my left. She's moved closer without me noticing, hip pressed against the arm of the couch. "The 'I'm fine' from earlier. Try it again without lying."
"I-I don't like bombs," I say, absurdly understated but all I can manage.
Darla gives a tiny, pained huff. "No one likes bombs, Sloane."
"I know. I just… I've seen this movie. Different city, same script."
Maggie's hand settles on my shoulder, thumb pressing steady warmth into the muscle. "What happened before doesn't make you responsible for what's happening now."
Tell that to my nervous system.
Frankie leans forward, elbows on knees. "Whatever this is poking at in you… it won't stay buried. Things like that claw their way back up, no matter how much cement you pour over them." Her eyes soften. "But you don't have to dig it up alone this time."
Ruby nods. "You're stuck with us now. Trauma-bonded, bitch. No returns."
A strangled laugh bursts out of me; it's broken, but real. "That's not how therapy works."
Ruby snorts. "Good thing none of us are licensed. We get to make up the rules."
Darla shifts closer, side pressed to mine. "You took care of all those girls last night. Held it together when the rest of us were one breath away from breaking. You don't have to do that here. Not with us."
Before I can say I don't need this, that I'm fine, that I've always handled myself, Candace moves. She slides off the couch and kneels beside Ruby, one hand resting over mine.
"You're always there when any of us fall apart," she says. Quiet, steady, in a way that comes from surviving hell and choosing softness anyway. "You show up. Hold our pieces together. You don't look away." She traces my knuckles. "So don't even think about us leaving you alone with yours." My eyes burn. I blink too hard. "We're not letting you spiral by yourself. Not now. Not ever."
Knox flickers through my mind, making me remember how he looked at me this morning, how he felt that I was off without asking why. His thumb brushed my cheek, a silent question. He's going to notice everything. The shaking. The panic under my skin. All the memories I keep choking down.
Maggie squeezes my shoulder. "You don't have to tell us anything before you're ready. But don't disappear on us. Let us sit in the not-knowing with you."
Frankie nods, eyes dark and certain. "Some threads are meant to be pulled. But if you tug too hard, too fast… you'll unravel more than you're ready to lose." She tilts her head, hearing something none of us can. "Just don't be the only one holding it when it comes loose."
Ruby's grip tightens on my knees. "Translation: you chase this, you drag our nosy asses with you."
Candace adds quietly, "We take care of our own. And you're ours. Deal with it."
I look down at Ruby's chipped nail polish, Maggie's steady hand, Frankie's calm stare, Darla's still presence, Candace's warm fingers curled over mine.
"Don't," I whisper, sharper than I mean to.
