Instead, we migrated to the living room as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I curled into the corner of the couch.
He sat beside me, close enough that our legs touched.
“Gummy?” I asked, pulling one from the little container on the coffee table.
He glanced at it. Then at me. “You are a corrupting influence.”
“You love it.”
A beat. Then he took it. We both did. It was a small, shared rebellion against the intensity of the past week.
The TV flickered to life. Some terrible reality show neither of us actually cared about filled the room with dramatic music and questionable life choices.
I laughed softly as someone onscreen made a truly terrible decision. “This is awful.”
“It is,” he agreed.
Neither of us changed it. His arm slid along the back of the couch, then around my shoulders, pulling me closer without asking.
I went without hesitation. My head settled against him. His hand rested warm against my arm.
The storm was in our past. This felt like something else entirely. This felt steady and real. It was something I could build inside of instead of constantly bracing against.
I let out a slow breath, sinking into him.
This life that still didn’t feel entirely like mine—but didn’t feel impossible anymore either.
I could get used to this.
That thought didn’t scare me anymore.
EPILOGUE
RAPHAEL — ONE YEAR LATER
The rink was louder than any boardroom I’ve ever walked into.
I sat on the hard bleachers beside Alex. The crowd was packed, energy buzzing like something alive, music thumping between whistles.
I should hate this. A year ago, I would have.
Now I found myself scanning the track like it matters.
Because she’s out there. Belle moved with confidence now. Strong. Fast. Fully healed. The brace was long gone.
Her derby name is painted across her jersey. Belle Ringer. Her body moved like it belonged to her again. And every time she skated past, I felt it, that pull she has had on me since the day she walked into my house.
“She’s about to take that jammer out,” Alex says beside me, casual like this is normal.
“She is,” I replied.
And then she did. It was a clean hit. Beautiful.
The crowd erupted.
I didn't cheer loudly. That’s not who I am. But it doesn’t stop me from being filled with pride as I watch her.
