“Everything’s fine.”

She steps in and hands me a glass. “Keep it on his nightstand in case—”

“I got it,” I tell her.

She smiles. First at me. And then at Dylan. He doesn’t notice.

“I’ll check in in the morning.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

She smiles again then starts to leave the room.

“Holly,” Dylan croaks, and her smile falters momentarily. “I’m real sorry, Ma’am. For everything.”

He falls asleep right away, his arm around me, his hand settled on my waist when I turned into him. For hours, I lay awake, the endless questions swirling in my head. But the scariest one, the one I can’t seem to shake… And I realize—just as my eyes drift shut—that I’m terrified of the circumstances that will lead me to the answer.

How long will this last?

Fifty-Three

Dylan

I wake up, the sunlight filtering through the cracks of the blinds and for a moment, I forget where I am. It doesn’t take long for me to find my bearings, because even though the room may be unfamiliar, the girl in my arms is the only thing I know.

I take a few minutes to soak in the events of last night and try to settle my emotions. I look down at Riley sleeping peacefully in my arms and I wonder how it is I spent the past few weeks, months, years, my entire goddamn life without her.

Slowly, I pull her off me, hoping not to wake her and sit on the edge of the bed. I look around her room again. Everything’s changed—the pictures she had on the walls, the bookshelf, the desk, the nightstands which once held the speakers that led me to this room for the very first time. It’s all changed. Everything but the corner of the room where cushions are scattered and jars are filled with letters.

She’d brought all her jars with her when we moved out so these are new.

There are no names on any of them to indicate which one of us she’s been writing to and right now, I don’t know which would hurt less.

I reach for my crutches leaning against the nearby wall and grab the empty glass sitting on the nightstand. I struggle to hold both the glass and grip the crutch as I make my way to the bathroom. I make it two steps into the room before I lose my footing, dropping the glass. It shatters on the tiled floor, breaking into a hundred pieces.

“Dylan!” Riley shouts from the bed.

I turn swiftly, my hip crashing into the counter, my broken leg taking the weight and I fall, landing on my ass, my crutches giving out beneath me.

Riley runs toward me, stopping just outside the room, her gaze going right to the mirror and my heart drops.

The truth hits me, relentless, over and over again.

She’s afraid.

She’ll always be afraid.

With my hands in my hair, I drop my gaze to hide my shame.

“What’s going on in here?” Holly shouts, walking into the bathroom. I look up just in time to see her look at the mirror first, then over at Riley, scanning over her entire body, looking for any damage I might have caused.

The walls close in and my stomach turns, my heart pounding in my eardrums. I gather whatever dignity I have left and look at both of them standing just outside the door, their eyes wide and filled with fear. I point to the shards of glass on the floor, shattered, just like all my hopes and determination to make everything right. “I dropped the glass,” I tell them, my voice hoarse as I struggle to speak. “I shouldn’t have tried to carry that and the crutches—”

“It’s okay,” Riley cuts in, moving around the glass and sitting next to me. “We’ll clean it up.”

“I’ll get the broom,” Holly says.

I wait for her to leave before looking at Riley, my voice low, my words meant only for her. “You looked at the mirror.”

Her gaze falls. She doesn’t speak.

“So did your mom,” I tell her.

She exhales loudly.

“She thought I’d hurt you.”

She stills.

“I’d never hurt you, Ry.”

She takes the broom from Holly and sweeps up the glass, grateful to not have to respond.

“Are you going to work?” Holly asks her.

“Probably not,” Riley says, focusing a little too much on clearing the mess I’d made.

“Okay. I’m going to try to clear my schedule for the afternoon. I’ll be home early. I’d like to talk to both of you.” Holly glances at me. “I’d prefer if you stayed here or if you need to leave, go over to Mal’s. He’s home just in case you need him. Sydney’s coming by in an hour or so to check in on you.”

“Okay,” Riley answers.

Holly hasn’t taken her eyes off me. “Okay, Dylan?”

I nod. “Yes, Ma’am.”

*     *     *

Riley’s by the kitchen table, standing behind a chair she’d pulled out for me and fakes a smile when she sees me approaching. There’s coffee, juice, sweet tea and water set out on the table. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” she says.

I take the offered seat and bring the coffee to my lips, watching her walk around me and to the other side of the table. She sits, looking down at her own coffee. “We need to talk,” she murmurs.

“I know.”

She looks up at me through her lashes. “Two minutes,” she says, and my brows pinch in confusion.

A door opens, the sound of Holly’s heels clicking across the hardwood floors gets louder with every step. “Will you guys be okay?” she asks, but I don’t take my eyes off Riley.