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“Evie?” they said in unison.

My name landed in the space between us, and something inside me broke open. My eyes stung immediately, tears spilling over before I could stop them, blurring everything into soft shapes and light and movement I couldn’t quite process fast enough. I blinked hard, trying to focus. But I didn't need to see who had reached me first—I knew it was him from his touch alone.

Jackson wrapped his arms around me, and pressed his head against my chest as he cried. I lifted my hand slowly, noticing the IV line inserted into the back of it, the unfamiliar weight of it pulling me back into the reality of where I was. My fingers trembled as I cupped the back of his head anyway, and sobs tore through my chest before I could stop them.

Jackson. My Jackson. I truly believed that I was going to die without ever seeing him again, without hearing his voice or feeling his warmth. The heart monitor beside me spiked with every breath I couldn’t control. He pulled back just enough to look at me and leant down, peppering my cheeks with desperate little kisses that made my vision blur all over again. “I love you,” he said, voice cracking as he smiled through tears.

My throat tightened so hard, it hurt as I cupped his cheek, feeling the rough warmth of him under my palm. He leaned into it, covering my hand with his, with a small, breathless smile, and I felt it more than saw it when that dimple showed itself under my touch.

His fingers lifted the ends of my hair gently, like he was checking I was real through every detail. I let out a shaky breath and mirrored him, feeling the shortened strands between my fingertips. Our hands found each other without thinking, fingers slipping together like they’d never forgotten how. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my temple, and my eyes drifted shut at the contact. My hand moved instinctively to my throat, fingertips pressing lightly against the skin there.

“Wayne?” I whispered, eyes opening again, almost afraid of what I’d find in his expression. Jackson’s entire body changed at the name. His jaw tightened instantly, and before I could spiral further, he caught my wrist gently and guided my hand back down, threading his fingers through mine again.

“Dead.”

The air left my lungs in a slow, shaky exhale. It didn’t feel like joy at first. It was a release so deep, it made my whole body go still. Jackson watched me carefully, like he was waiting for the moment it would hit me fully.

“It’s over?” I asked, voice barely there.

His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “It’s over.”

I swallowed hard, trying to process it, trying to let it settle somewhere inside me after years of it living under my skin.

“How?” I whispered.

The word came out thin, almost disbelieving. Never again would I have to see the darkness in his eyes or hear the anger in his voice. I’ll never have to stare death in the face, doing everything he commanded so I could live another day.

“Peter,” he said quietly, leaning back just enough to shift my view past him so I could see where my brother had been silently standing the whole time. I choked on a sob as our eyes met properly, like the years between us collapsed all at once and I could suddenly feel every second of them. Thousands of memories like singing too loud in the car, arguing over nothing, him being the only person who could make me laugh when I was feeling down, ran through my mind.

Peter took a hesitant step closer, like he was afraid I might disappear if he moved too fast. “Evelyn,” he breathed. My lips parted, but no sound came out. “Please forgive me,” he said, voice breaking. I was already shaking my head, but he kept going anyway, words spilling out like he’d been holding them back for years. “I tried so hard to find you,” he added, stepping closer now. “I never stopped. Not once. But I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I let you think you were forgotten.”

He dropped to his knees right there beside the bed and collapsed forward, wrapping his arms around me so carefully. His head pressed against my abdomen before wrecked sobs shook through his whole body. I couldn’t breathe properly. Couldn’t process that he was real, that this wasn’t something my mind had invented to survive. My hand lifted, trembling so badly I could barely control it, and I hesitated for half a second before placing it on the back of his head.

“I missed you,” I whispered, voice breaking completely. “I’m s-sorry I didn’t l-listen⁠—”

“No. No, Evie.” He pulled back instantly, gripping my arms just enough to make me focus on him. “No, listen to me. Never apologise for what happened to you, okay? None of this is your fault,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “None of it. Do you hear me? I should’ve protected you,” he added, voice cracking again. “I should’ve done more.”

It felt like we’d both been carrying the same guilt for different versions of the same nightmare. I blamed myself, while he thought it was his fault. But in the end…none of it was our doing. We had no idea what Wayne was capable of. If we did, I would’ve never gotten into his car that night. Peter’s hands came up to my face, thumbs brushing under my eyes, and he let out a shaky breath like he was trying to convince himself I was real. “Look at you,” he whispered.

I blinked at him through tears, still trying to take him in. The last clear version of him in my mind didn’t match this at all. He had been a lanky teen in the process of growing a mullet, always wearing the latest band tees with skinny jeans. Now he was a man, a real adult with trimmed hair and wrinkles in his skin.

“You’ve gotten old,” I said before I could stop myself.

Peter let out a loud, startled laugh, tipping his head back like he couldn’t believe what I’d just said. Jackson laughed beside me, his hand still locked with mine like he needed to be part of this moment, even if he wasn’t the centre of it.

Peter wiped at his face quickly, still smiling when he looked back down at me. “I suppose I have,” he admitted, and as his hand shifted, I felt something cool press against my skin when he squeezed my fingers again. I glanced down, catching the glint of a gold ring.

“You’re married?” I whispered.

The words came out like I couldn’t quite believe I’d missed something that big about him. Peter’s expression softened immediately, something warm and proud cutting through all the grief still sitting under it. He glanced briefly toward Jackson, then back to me. Jackson was already moving, pressing the call button for a nurse, but his attention stayed on us.

“I am,” he said gently. “And I have so much to tell you.”

It took a couple of hours for the room to settle again.

Dr. Silver had come and gone more than once, asking me questions I felt half-awake answering: my name, the year, where I was. Simple things that somehow still felt strange to say out loud, like I was stitching myself back into reality piece by piece. My vital signs held steady, and my throat, she said, was healing well. “Slowly, but properly. You still need to rest your voice for a few days.”

After that, a few investigators. But they didn’t stay long, just long enough to ask if I was ready to talk.