She leaned back against the bench, one leg folded under her. She studied me in a way that would be unnerving if it were from anyone else... but from her, it felt like she was trying to understand me.
"Grief does that," she said. "Makes everything move too fast. And somehow too slow. You take on things you’re not ready for because you don’t have a choice. Doesn’t excuse being blind to what’s right in front of you, though."
That one hit. But I didn’t flinch because she wasn’t wrong.
Last night hadn’t let me sleep. I’d stayed until the last evidence bag was sealed, until the evidence techs cleared the scene, until the aunt was loaded into the ambulance and Ava disappeared in its wake. I kept thinking, had I moved fast enough? Had I dismissed Ava’sconcerns too quickly? Had I clung too tightly to procedure while a girl bled out?
I followed the rules. Right... hadn't I?
"I follow the rules, Remi. I have to. The law’s there for a reason."
She looked over at me, her voice soft but steady. "You know what I always found funny? Not funny, ha-ha… but the sad kind of funny? The rules, the law, they bend for people with power. But for those of us without it? It’s all black and white. Rigid."
She shifted her tone, did a mock impression of a stiff-jawed man."‘Rules are rules, miss.’"
Then her eyes found mine again. Clear. Sharp.
"But the world isn’t black and white, Chief. It’s shades of grey. It’s an explosion of colours no one wants to name. And in my experience, more often than not, things aren't always as they seem, and not every situation calls for the same interpretation or misinterpretation of the rules."
I didn’t know what to say to that. Not yet. But fuck if what she said didn't make sense. How could someone so young see and understand the world so clearly?
She stood and dusted off her jeans. "Thanks for the coffee, Chief."
And then she walked away, leaving me alone on the bench, the sunrise creeping higher, and too many damn thoughts in my head.
I watched her disappear through the glass doors. Tall, somehow lean and yet curvy framed, but steady spined, sure in her steps. The kind of person you want on your side. The type of person you didn't want to disappoint.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like a man standing still in his integrity. I didn't feel sure in my steps.
I felt like a man who’d just been handed a mirror and wasn't sure how he felt about what he saw.
CHAPTER 9
AVA - TOO LATE
The chapel smelled like dust and lilies. Too many fucking lilies.
That was the first thing I noticed. Not the mahogany casket, not the crooked hymn number board on the wall, not even the pale faces I used to see every week in group.
Just the damn flowers. Suffocating sweet, like a lie pretending to be comfort.
It had taken a week to get Sofia to the funeral home, and the ache was still as sharp as the night I found her.
I sat three pews back, hands folded in my lap, fists clenched beneath my coat. Remi sat beside me, spine stiff, jaw tight. Neither of us cried. We hadn’t stopped crying long enough to cry again.
Ms. Cross was in the front row, bandages still visible beneath her Sunday best, her hands clasped tight in her lap.
The pastor droned on. Something about peace. About light. About forgiveness. About it being her time.
I heard none of it.
All I could hear was Sofia’s voice in that last session. Her smile was hopeful and broken.
“I think… I think maybe I’m starting to believe I’m worth something. That I don’t have to go back.”
"Ava, I looked into those courses you told me about. I think I might sign up for next semester... take a crack at being a 'normal' twenty-year-old."
She’d looked at me like I had the answers. Like I was the reason she saw a way out.
