She smiles faintly. “My grandmother was the constant.”
“Evie?”
“Yeah.”
“She sounds solid.”
“She was,” Aurora says. “She chose me. Over and over.”
“Choice matters,” I say.
“It does,” she whispers.
Silence settles, but it’s not empty.
It’s full of everything we just laid out between us.
“You know,” she says after a moment, “you didn’t just survive that.”
“What?”
“All of it. You built something from it.”
I shake my head. “I just didn’t quit.”
“That’s resilience,” she says. “And it’s not small.”
I glance around the half-painted bar. At the lighter walls covering darker wood. At the reinforced beams beneath the stage.
At her, standing here.
“You staying was a choice too,” I tell her.
She holds my gaze.
“Yeah,” she says. “For now, right?”
Her fingers are still on my arm.
Neither of us moves them.
“I’m glad you found them,” she adds quietly. “The club. Ryder. Finn.”
“Me too.”
“And I’m glad they found you.”
That one hits harder.
I clear my throat and glance at the wall.
“We should finish this section before it dries uneven,” I say.
She smiles because she knows I’m deflecting, but lets me.
“Okay,” she says softly. “But we’re not done talking.”
“No,” I agree.
