Billie swallowed as she nodded. “Okay.”
Her voice sounded calm, but inside, something folded in on itself.
Debra watched her with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
Billie paused. She knew what she wanted to say, and she knew what she wanted to happen, but instead she gave Debra the version of herself that she’d perfected years ago. It didn’t matter what she wanted deep down.
I don’t want you to go. Please don’t leave me alone with this. I don’t know how to ask you to stay, but I need you.
“I trust your judgement.” Billie wrung her hands in her lap and smiled. “I have a feeling you’re very good at knowing what people need.”
Those words felt wrong as she said them.
Debra nodded, though Billie noted the uncertainty as it flickered across her face. “This isn’t me walking away.”
“I know. I understand.” And she did. Well, she understood the kind of care that asked her to expect nothing and be grateful for whatever remained.
“Right now, I just want you to get plenty of rest, and…I don’t know, figure out what your life looks like now.” Debra stood and smoothed down her coat. “I think we both need the space, given the whirlwind of the last month or so.”
Billie rose with a fake smile and walked Debra to the door. It felt strange escorting her out of a space that had only just started to feel less empty. Still, Billie was used to this. She was used to wanting but never having. She was used to aching but never feeling relief. She was used to destroying anything meaningful in her life. And while Debra was saying the right things, Billie knew what this really was. It was Debra’s way of hoping she could keep Billie sane…while walking away and never looking back.
Debra turned to her as she reached the door. “You will be okay, Billie. It may take some time, but I do hope you can get toa place where you don’t feel the need to protect yourself all the time.”
Billie nodded. “I know.”
When Debra leaned in and kissed her cheek, a painful ache settled in Billie’s throat. “Take care of yourself.”
“Yeah, I-I will.”
The door closed, and Billie stood there, staring at the place where Debra had been, listening to the quiet reclaim her apartment inch by inch.
If Debra needed space, Billie would give it. If Debra wanted distance, Billie would honour it. She had survived by asking for nothing, and she could do it again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
One Month Later…
Billie hadn’t plannedto come back here. She’d convinced herself it was a free hour between appointments and a desire to be anywhere other than her office or her apartment, but the truth settled inside of her the moment she stepped through the museum doors. Here, she felt close to Debra.
Everything felt the same, a space designed for reflection and a place where time slowed, whether you wanted it to or not, but this time around…she moved through it carefully. Because this had been the very place where she’d allowed herself to forget who she was supposed to be.
Her hands were clasped behind her back out of habit, her posture immaculate as she wore a composed expression. From the outside, she looked exactly like the Billie Brown most people knew. Calm and self-contained. No one could see the effort it took to remain that way, or the way memories pressed in from all sides.
A month ago, she’d been raw and entirely unravelling. She’d been terrified of what she wanted and couldn’t imagine everbeing the person she was before Janet. Now, she was steadier. Now, she could let go of control and allow herself the evenings and the weekends to just be. She wasn’t entirely healed—she never would be, knowing she’d lost Debra—but she was upright, and she was healthy.
She stopped in front of a familiar painting and smiled. The very painting she’d stood at with Debra. A woman half-turned from the viewer, her expression caught somewhere between defiance and longing.
Billie felt the pull immediately.
She looks like she’s keeping a secret.
Debra’s voice echoed through her mind, from another time and another version of herself entirely.
Don’t linger and don’t romanticise. You survived by letting go.
She couldn’t turn back time, and she couldn’t bring herself to think about the what-ifs any longer. So, she turned to move on, only to be stopped in her tracks. That subtle shift in the air was unmistakable.
Billie stilled. She didn’t scan the room; she didn’t need to. Some instinct she hadn’t managed to kill off still knew when Debra Allen was nearby.
