"And then Marcus called."
"And you said yes."
"Yeah."
"Why."
"Because he's my brother. Because he asked. Because the part of me that decided I was done, I don't think I meant it. I think I was scared."
She squeezes my hand.
"Tonight her brother texted me."
"Her brother."
"Said he saw my name on a list regarding the story you were writing. Wanted to thank me for standing between someone and what's coming for them."
"Gray."
"It's the first time I've had the thought that maybe she'd want me to still do it. Not punish myself with being alone as the price of messing it up."
She doesn't say anything for a second.
Then she turns her face and kisses the edge of my jaw. Slow.
"She would want it."
"You don't know her."
"I know women who do what she did for a living. And I know what we want. We want the men who would die for us to keep living for someone who's still here."
My eyes sting.
I look up at the ceiling a second.
"Jesus."
"Yeah."
"You don't pull any punches, Baptiste."
"Never have."
I turn my head. Press my lips to the top of her head. Stay there.
"Thank you."
"Mm."
"For asking."
"Mm."
"For not flinching."
"I never flinch, Mercer."
"I know."
