Page 163 of Break Me

They gather their things and head for the door. I follow to see them out.

Laura pauses in the doorway, her expression softening. “Remember,” she says gently, “you’re not in this alone.”

There’s a beat, and then, like she feels the need to give me something more solid to hold onto, something that sounds like certainty, she says, “You’re doing everything right.”

“Yeah,” I say, even though the words don’t land the way they’re supposed to. “Okay.”

The door closes.

And just like that, it’s quiet again. Not the same quiet as before. Something’s been set in motion that isn’t going to stop now that it’s started.

My hand is still resting against the door, my palm flat against the wood.

You’re not in this alone.

I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.

They’ll come and go. They’ll check boxes, adjust medications, say the right things in the right tone, and then they’ll leave again.

And when they do, it’ll still be me.

It’s always going to be me.

My hand curls slightly before I let it fall.

I don’t move, like if I wait long enough, our reality will go back to the place it’s supposed to be. The place where we’re happy. Where there’s still time stretched in front of us instead of something closing in around us.

But it doesn’t.

When I turn back, Raven’s on the couch, exactly where I left her.

Like nothing changed.

Like everything did.

She’s watching me as if she’s been waiting for me to turn around.

“That was a lot,” I say finally.

Her mouth curves, just slightly. “Yeah,” she says softly. “It was.”

I let out a breath that doesn’t feel like it goes anywhere. Crossing the room, I lower myself onto the edge of the couch beside her. The cushion dips under my weight.

She shifts just enough to make room, her shoulder brushing mine, warm and familiar.

I reach for her hand without looking, my fingers finding hers like they always do. She turns her hand into mine, threading our fingers together. Her thumb moves against the back of my hand.

It’s the same way she’s always touched me. Easy. Like it’s nothing and everything.

“They seem…” I pause, searching for something that fits, and come up with the only word I can. “Good.”

“They do,” she says.

No hesitation. No doubt.

I nod, even though nothing about this feels certain.

My grip tightens around hers, just enough to feel her there, to keep something solid between us.