I didn’t want to explain anything about Savage’s life that he’s not here to share personally, so I just nodded.
She nodded back, and there was nothing more to say. She stood up and looked like she wasn’t sure whether to hug me or shake my hand. “Thank you for giving me a glimpse of my son,” she said. “I know you didn’t know what we are to each other when we made this little delivery plan, but seeing him alive and healthy…” She smiled at me and motioned toward Aurora. “No matter what your history is, no matter what his is, I hope you have a beautiful future.”
Tears stung my eyes because I felt like she knewsomething that she wouldn’t say. That this was the last time she’d see me. That having Savage in my life meant I could never go to the diner again.
I can’t unravel the threads of what I’ve done. I don’t fully understand, and all I know is I never, ever meant to hurt anyone.
I finally put Aurora to bed and change into my pajamas. My first night in my new home is nothing like what I’d planned for. But I guess that’s life. It always sends you surprises when you least expect them.
But I’m not the woman I used to be.
I’m stronger now. I believe in myself and my ability to weather any storm.
I sit on the couch and light a candle—an old one of Savage’s that looks like it’s been here for a while. I turn off the lights and fire up my laptop. I put on a playlist of clips from Neon Dawn shows.
Tears fall down my cheeks as I watch the videos I have seen hundreds of times over the last few months. But tonight, the tears are happy tears. Tonight, when my mom looks into the camera and sings about power and love, loss, and fighting, I feel like she’s singing just for me.
A text coming into my phone lights up the display, and I grab it.
Savage: I’m outside. Can I come in?
I don’t bother replying to the text. I jump off the couch and rush for the door. I fumble with the locks inthe dark, but I open the door to a man who looks wrecked.
Savage’s eyes are wild. He looks me over from head to toe, and then he takes a few steps back like he’s changing his mind about being here.
“Savage,” I say his name with all the apology, affection, and concern I have been building up in my heart all night. I hold the door open with one hand and step onto the front step in my bare feet. “Come here.”
He takes a step backward, looks at me, and then surges forward. Under the single porch light, we hug hard, and his chest heaves with emotion. He’s not crying, not talking, but his breaths are coming hard and fast, and he just holds me. I cling to him with all my strength, willing to give him everything I have and even what I don’t have.
I don’t have answers.
I don’t have money.
I don’t really have options.
But I know now that none of that matters. All that matters is love.
And whether he’s willing to see it or not, what I feel for him is real. It’s sincere and serious, and I’m going to lean into it for as long as he will let me.
We rock each other back and forth outside until a huge moth dive-bombs my hair, trying to get close to the porch light. Savage swats at it, and then I go inside and he follows. He locks the door behind me, and he doesn’t say anything. Just takes my hand, leads me to the couch, and together, we lie down spooning in thefading light of the laptop and my mom’s soft music playing on a loop.
When I open my eyes,Savage isn’t next to me. He’s sitting at the kitchen table reading something on his phone. He looks so strong and yet so vulnerable, all at the same time.
I can’t tell if it’s morning yet. The baby monitor is playing white noise, and I peek at it and see that Aurora is still fast asleep. I get up and go to the kitchen, looping my arms around Savage’s shoulders. I place a kiss on the top of his mussed hair.
“Your father is in a nursing home now,” I tell him softly. “Your mom got the job at the diner when she could no longer take care of him. He’s stable, and she visits him every couple of days. She has her own friends and life now. She misses you, though. She’s so sorry for what she cost you.”
He doesn’t need me to run interference between him and his mom. I know that. But if he’s going to leave me, if I never see him again after today, I want him to know what she shared in the few minutes we talked.
“She blames herself completely,” I say, kissing him again. “I would too.”
He nods and holds my hands in his. “Do you think,” he asks me, his voice low in the dim kitchen, “that I’m going to turn out like him?”
His grip on my hands is so tight, I know it’s taking everything he has to form the question.
“Like your dad?” I echo. I move to sit down at the table next to him so I can look at his face, but I grab his hands in mine as soon as I’m seated. “Savage, no. I don’t think so. I think men who are violent don’t have an interest in finding another way to handle their emotions. Just by asking that question, you’ve proven that you do. You’re your own man—and a better man, I would argue—because of what you’ve been through.”
He looks down at the table, staring off into space. “I went to a job tonight,” he tells me. “I brought a weapon. I was planning to hurt people. I wanted—I needed—to hurt people.”
