Tyler lingers near the door after they leave. "Walk with me?" he asks.
"Where are we going?" My pulse quickens.
I still haven’t figured out how they can all affect me in their own ways, or what I’m supposed to do with my feelings, so I’m just going with it for now. A pebble moving with the current until I land where I’m supposed to be.
"Nowhere specific." His smile is warm. "Just... walking."
Outside, October asserts itself immediately. The air is sharper. Leaves crunch underfoot, gold and amber and rust, carpeting the paths in layers.
"What made you decide to come here?" Tyler asks.
"My parents chose this place. Before they died. They'd researched schools, narrowed it down. This was top of the list."
He slows his pace. "I didn't know." Pause. "When did they?—"
"Eight years ago." The words come easier than expected. "Car accident."
He stops walking and turns to face me.
I stare at leaves scattered like copper coins across the path. "I was angry at first. They'd made the decision without me, and I was supposed to live out their plan even though they wouldn't be here to see it."
"But you came."
"Eventually." I meet his gaze. "Mira helped me see it differently. Said it wasn't about obligation. It was about... possibility. They'd given me an option, not an order. I could take it or leave it."
"What changed your mind?" His voice is gentle.
"I realized I was angry at the wrong thing." My throat tightens. "I wasn't angry that they chose a school. I was angry they weren't here to see if they'd been right."
"Elowen—"
"Sometimes I wonder what they'd think." The tears come despite trying to hold them back. "If they'd be proud. If I'm doing this right. If?—"
Tyler steps closer. One hand rises, catches a tear with his thumb. So gentle it almost breaks me further.
"Come here," he says, arms opening.
His arms circle me, solid, warm, holding without crushing. One hand comes up to rest between my shoulder blades, the other settles at my back. He presses a kiss to the top of my head. Tender.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs into my hair, voice rough with emotion. "I'm so sorry you lost them. I'm sorry they're not here to see how incredible you are."
The words break something open. My tears come harder, soaking into his shirt, and he doesn't move. Simply holds me while October wind bites at exposed skin. I could stay there, I realize, safe in his arms.
"And for what it's worth," he continues, "I think they'd be proud. Of the person you are. The way you're building a life here on your own terms."
The tears subside eventually, and I become aware of his heartbeat under my ear, of his hand moving in slow circles against my back, of how completely he let me fall apart without trying to fix it.
Pulling back enough to look up. His hazel eyes meet mine, warm, a little damp, entirely present.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For caring.”
His hands come up to frame my face, thumbs gentle as they wipe away the last of the tears. "Of course I care."
He leans forward, presses a soft kiss to my forehead. Tender. Lingering. When he pulls back, his hands are still cradling my face. One thumb brushes across my lower lip, slowly, deliberately. The touch is feather-light but it might as well be a brand.
