Karen refused to look at Alexis as she scurried back to her seat.

The chairwoman thanked Karen for her comments and then looked at Alexis. “Ms. Carlisle, we weren’t expecting you today, but since you’re here, do you wish to address the commission beyond your written correspondence?”

Alexis shook her head. Jessica squeezed her hand. “Are you sure?”

Alexis felt the burn of Karen’s seething glare from the front row.

No. Not again. She was not walking away from this battle. She stood. “Wait. Yes, I do have some things to say.”

Heart pounding, Alexis walked past Karen’s stunned expression to the podium and adjusted the microphone to her height.

“Thank you.” She swallowed and tried to hide her shaking hands on top of the lectern. “Ms. Murray is correct in most of what she said. It’s true that my café has become a gathering spot for survivors of sexual violence and harassment. It’s true that there have been days when customers have arrived in the morning and didn’t leave until the afternoon, but that does not make my café any different from any other coffee shop in the city where students sit for hours to do their homework or where book clubs meet to discuss their latest reads.”

Alexis licked her dry lips. “I addressed the specific items regarding the zoning classifications in my written correspondence. I do not believe I am in violation of my permit, nor do I believe that my café alone is responsible for the parking shortage that has always plagued our district. But I will publicly reiterate what I stated in my written response that I will seek an additional zoning variance to allow me to continue to host my yoga class if the commission finds that it does, indeed, violate the current zoning permit.”

Karen huffed behind her.

Alexis stared at her hands. She could stop now. She’d addressed the primary issue in Karen’s complaint. She could do what she usually did and just ignore the rest.

“Ms. Carlisle, does that complete your comments?” the chairwoman prompted.

Did it?

“Ms. Carlisle?”

No. It did not complete her comments. Because she hadn’t really told her story yet, and if she didn’t do it, people like Karen Murray would continue to tell it for her. If she didn’t continue this fight, the battle would never end.

Alexis licked her lips again and looked up. “No, I have a few more things to say, if I may.”

The chairwoman nodded. “Please continue.”

“This isn’t about a zoning violation.” Her heart pounded so hard that her ribs shook. “We all know that. If it were, then Ms. Murray would have filed complaints against Mrs. Bashar’s yarn shop for her weekly widows knitting club meeting. This complaint is about me, and more specifically, about Ms. Murray’s disapproval of me.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Karen shot to her feet.

“Ms. Murray,” the chairwoman said. “Please return to your seat.”

“But that is just a lie! She’s lying about me!”

Alexis tried not to roll her eyes.

“Ms. Murray,” the chairwoman snapped. “You are out of order. You had your chance to speak.”

Alexis continued. “In the year since I came forward with my accusation against Royce Preston, Ms. Murray has found almost weekly reasons to complain about something at my café. The state of my landscaping out front. My cat. She even complained about how bright the string lights are around my front window. I have been patient. More patient than most people would be, because I didn’t think it mattered what people like her thought of me. But I realize now that it does matter. It matters because attitudes like hers enable men like Royce Preston to get away with their crimes for so long. It matters because she is now trying to hurt people I care deeply about—women who have already been victimized. And if someone like Ms. Murray is allowed to use the zoning system to carry out some kind of vendetta, then the laws are meaningless.”

A round of applause interrupted her, and Alexis looked over her shoulder. It wasn’t just Jessica who was clapping, though. Strangers had joined in too.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Alexis said. “I didn’t invite women to come to me to share their stories or to start gathering at my café to find support and strength in other survivors. But it happened, and I am so grateful for it. They have healed me, and I will make it my mission to ensure these women have a safe environment. And if that violates the zoning laws of this city, then the city needs to change its zoning laws. Because I am done hoping that I can change what is in Ms. Murray’s heart.”

The applause thundered as Alexis turned away from the podium. She met Karen’s eyes and smiled. Not out of spite. Not out of forced politeness. But because she honestly no longer cared what Karen thought.

The chairwoman pounded the table with her gavel and asked the audience to please quiet down. Alexis’s legs trembled as she walked back to Jessica, who yanked her in for a tight hug.

Tears threatened behind her eyes. “I need to go,” she whispered.

“Don’t you want to stay to see what the board decides?” Jessica asked.

Alexis shook her head. She’d done what she needed to do. She’d said what needed to be said.

Now there was someone else she needed to talk to.

* * *

* * *

The grass at the cemetery was soft beneath her shoes.

Damp and soggy. Every footfall sank heavier than the last.

The gas station bouquet in her clenched hand grew heavy, petals wilting and drooping upside down. It had been several weeks since she’d been to her mother’s grave. The urn next to the gravestone bore the dried, brown remnants of last summer’s geraniums. Neglected by her absence.

Alexis placed the bouquet on the ground, the vibrant colors a stark contrast against the darkened granite bearing her mother’s name. Behind her, she sank onto the concrete bench that café patrons had donated so Alexis would have a place to sit when she visited. It used to warm her to sit here and talk with her mother. Today, though, the cold seeped through her clothes and chilled her entire body.

Alexis tugged her coat around her and stared at the ground.

She didn’t even know what she was going to say until she opened her mouth.

“Why—Why didn’t you tell Elliott about me?” she whispered. Her voice sounded weak. Pitiful. “All those years, you could have told me the truth. I could have handled it.”

Her mind imagined her mother’s answer. Because it was for the best.

“Best for who? Me? You? Don’t you remember how hard things were?”

But we got through them together.

“But it could have been easier. He had money.”

Which isn’t everything. We had each other.

“You could still be alive. If we’d had more money, you wouldn’t have had to work so hard, and maybe—”

You know that’s not true. I had cancer. I would have died with or without his financial support.

“But—” Her voice cut off as her mother took control of the imaginary argument.

Say what you really want to say, Alexis. Tell me what’s really bothering you.

“I’m mad at you, Mom.” Her voice shook with the weight of betrayal and, yes, anger. Anger that had festered for too long, been ignored and avoided. Anger that had been unleashed last night at Elliott’s house, anger that had burned all night and all morning, anger that erupted into hot flames at the zoning board meeting. Anger that threatened to consume her whole. “You left me alone, Mom. And maybe I didn’t have to be. How could you do that?”

Headlights from an oncoming car behind her illuminated the headstone. She sniffled and wiped her face, hoping the car would slowly pass. It didn’t. She heard the soft crunch of tires draw closer. The car stopped, and the headlights went out. Of course. Of course someone else would be here at this exact time to visit someone in the same section as her mother’s grave. Because she couldn’t even get a moment to herself in a cemetery.

Behind her, a car door opened and shut with a gentle thud.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Alexis turned on the bench, heart in her throat. Elliott stood twenty feet away, hands shoved in the pockets of a winter coat.

She turned her back on him. “What do you want?”

“I was worried about you. Candi and I have both been trying to call you.”

“I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“I understand.”

“Then you’ll understand when I tell you to get back in the car and go away.”

Elliott walked closer and gestured toward the bench. “May I?”

“No.” But Alexis scooted sideways anyway to make room for him. She’d ask herself why later.

Elliott placed his hands on his knees and stared at the gravestone. “I came here once last year.”

Alexis looked over at that. “Why?”

“I had some things I needed to say to her.”

Alexis ground her teeth. “You should’ve said them when she was alive.”

“I know.” He focused his gaze on her. “Do you want to know what I told her?”

“Not really.”

“I told her that I missed her.”

Alexis stood up. “Jesus, not this bullshit again.”

“I told her that she’d raised an amazing young woman, and I wished I had been part of it.”

Alexis hugged her torso and stared at the gravestone. She felt her lip tremble and hated him for it. “You had three years to contact me. Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was a coward, and I was ashamed.”

Alexis snorted. “Points for honesty and self-awareness, I guess.”

He didn’t respond.

“It’s not fair,” she said, staring at her mother’s name etched in stone.

“No, it’s not.”

“She was all I had.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to know the things I know now. I don’t want to be sitting here like this, mad at her because of you. Do you understand that?” She turned back around to face him. “You made me mad at my own mother. You stole something from me. Something so fucking precious. You stole my peace.” Her voice choked and cracked. Elliott’s hands twitched as if he wanted to reach for her, comfort her, but he wisely kept his fingers curled around his knees. She sniffled again. “And now, because of you, I’ve lost Noah too. You made me doubt him, and I hurt him so badly.”