"She's still affected by what happened," I said quietly. "What do I do to help?"
Silence.
"Jan? Did you hear me?"
"I'm sorry," she said finally. "Are you calling me for relationship advice? I mean..."
"Yeah, sorry about that piece of—" She snorted. "I promise Jan, I didn't watch it."
"I know. Still, I don't think I'm the right person for this type of advice," she added. "I don't know why you'd come to me."
"Because you’re my friend," I said simply.
There was another pause — longer this time — followed by the faintest sigh, "Ryder, six weeks ago, Dec She saw you take a bullet for her. You don’t just walk away from that kind of fear. It lingers. It rewires how you breathe around the person you almost lost."
She hesitated, and for a heartbeat her composure cracked.
"Maybe she’s just scared," she said, softer now. "She almost lost the love of her life. So… give her a minute, okay? Let her see you’re still here."
I swallowed. "Yeah," I said quietly. "Thanks, Jan. And for what it’s worth—you’re a wonderful, tough, kind human being. His loss."
There was a silence that stretched, filled with something unsaid. Then she exhaled through her nose, a small, tired sound.
"Thanks," she murmured, before the line went dead.
I sat on the couch, and our rabbit immediately hopped into my lap like it was his throne. We still haven’t agreed on a name, but in my mind he’s alreadyBobby.Margot just doesn’t know she lost the naming battle yet.
The next day, I stopped by Billy’s workshop. The air shimmered faintly with dust and light, part metal, part magic. The rhythmic hum of polishing wheels filled the space, mingling with the sharp, clean scent of silver and solder. He was bent over his bench, a magnifying visor on, a tiny flame dancing at his fingertips.
When he noticed me standing there, he lifted the visor and grinned.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said, pointing his pliers in my direction. “She’ll be furious if she finds out I let you do any work.”
I laughed. “I know, I know.”
“Too late anyway,” he said, smirking. “She already called me this morning. Gave me the whole speech about keeping you away from the torch.”
“Of course she did.” I leaned against the doorframe, smiling. “Can I at least watch?”
“That, I can allow,” he said, gesturing to the stool beside his bench. “Just don’t touch anything that sparkles.”
I sat, watching the way he moved — precise, unhurried, like time bent differently in this room. The soft tap of his hammer against gold was almost musical, each strike deliberate, patient. After a moment, he glanced at me over the edge of his glasses. “Have you shown her what you’ve been working on yet?”
I hesitated. “No. Not yet.”
He gave a low whistle. “What are you waiting for? I think we’ve already learned life’s pretty damn short, haven’t we?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
He nodded, eyes back on the tiny pendant in his hand. “Then don’t wait for the right moment, kid. You make it. The right moments don’t come knocking. You carve them out, like gold from ore.”
Chapter 33: Love, Made Divine
(Ryder)
That night, December came home later than usual. I heard the truck before I saw her—its familiar rumble cutting through the evening stillness. She came in quietly, the door closing with a soft click, and when she saw me standing there in the living room, she froze.
“You should be resting,” she said at once, setting her bag down. Her eyes roamed over me, searching for any sign of pain. “Have you eaten? Taken your meds? I’m sorry… I was swamped today. Did you manage dinner? I couldn’t come earlier—I asked Margot and Billy to cook. I’m so sorry, I—”
