I can't stop them.
"I'm sorry," I choke out. "I'm so sorry. I should have called. I should have?—"
"Stop." Her voice is fierce. "Don't you dare apologize. Not for doing what you needed to do."
She pulls back just enough to look at my face.
Her hands cup my cheeks.
Her eyes search mine.
"You're okay," she says. "You're okay. That's all that matters."
I'm not okay.
I'm the opposite of okay.
But with her hands on my face and her tears mixing with mine, I almost believe I could be.
"Come on." She takes my hand. "Let's go somewhere quiet."
She tugs me deeper into the penthouse.
I follow without resistance.
We pass through a living room the size of my entire apartment. Past a kitchen with marble countertops and copper fixtures. Past windows that showcase the entire Denver skyline, the city spread out below us like a map of lights.
I don't look at any of it.
I look at Sophia's hand in mine.
I hold on like she might disappear if I let go.
She leads me down a hallway.
Opens a door.
A bedroom.
Sophia closes the door behind us.
The sounds of the penthouse fade.
It's just us now.
Just the two of us in this quiet room with the city glowing beyond the window.
Sophia sits on the edge of the bed.
Pulls me down beside her.
I still haven't let go of her hand.
I can't.
If I let go, this might not be real. She might not be real. I might wake up back in my apartment with blood on the walls and glass on the floor and no one to hold onto.
"Marina." Sophia's voice is gentle. "You're shaking."
