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“I am; I still bleed,” she says. “I’m careful, I wouldn’t stop it without telling you.”

“I know, I was just asking.”

She’s quiet, and I let her sit and think. Finally, she sniffs and wipes her eyes.

“I just wanted them to be excited for me,” she whispers.

My heart breaks. “I know, baby.”

It doesn’t do any good right now to tell her that Coen is having a reasonable response for someone with his past. I’d be concerned if he didn’t express hesitation. Yeah, I’m kinda pissed he couldn’t put on a better front for Serena, but I was there for all the good, bad, and ugly. The ugly got real fucking ugly.

But the good was good, too.

Serena is a different case than Coen. We went into music without anyone seasoned holding our hands. Marion had experience, but not in the way we needed. She’d never toured, her client list was pretty small, and all she had to offer was her limited perspective. But Serena has me, and I have been in the trenches.

“I will talk to Coen,” I say.

“And Sabrina?”

“Sabrina is probably just worried. She knows how bad Coen got hurt.”

She lets me take her hands.

“I need you to take a deep breath,” I say, in my best client voice. “This is coming from a place of concern. It’s not anything else. Your sister wants you to be safe.”

She sniffs.

“You understand?” I say.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I do.”

I rise and go to the bathroom to turn on the shower. “Now, you take a hot shower and get in bed. I’ll be back with food and some pads. Or tampons, whatever you want.”

“Pads are fine for now,” she says wearily.

This is one of those moments where I want to reassure her that everything is fine, but she needs me to show it instead. That, I can do. I give her a kiss and leave the room, the faint sounds of her getting in the shower lingering as the door falls shut. On the way down to the first floor, I think about what all this means. Everything will change, not just for me, but for her family. For Coen and me.

I step out onto the street. It’s blisteringly hot and dry.

That’s alright. Things change. Seasons end, and I think I’m in whatever season Coen started when he retired, just my version of it.

Not meaning to, I smile. The city lights are bright and familiar through the hazy night sky. I’ve been in this city a hundred times before. Never like this, never with someone waiting for me inside the hotel.

Whatever I have to do to get Coen and Sabrina to accept this, I’ll do.

If he wants me to retire and be the full-time keeper of Serena, I’m happy to do just that. I’ve done good work. I’ve made my money. Retirement could work.

Thoughts rattling, I head down the street to the CVS on the corner. I’m not sure what she needs; it’s been a long time since I had to buy feminine products. I scan the shelf, tapping my wallet against my palm.

“You need some help, honey?”

I glance up at a woman about ten years my senior, dark hair cut in a blunt bob and eyes hidden behind thick plastic frames. She gives me a kind, hesitant smile.

“Uh…yeah, maybe,” I admit.

She picks up a pink-and-blue pack of pads and a small box of tampons. “These are some good choices, can’t go too wrong here,” she says, handing them over.

I take them, kinda dumbfounded. I’m so busy, I rarely get a chance to interact with regular people doing normal things. She didn’t have to do that for me.