“It is.” Roman’s hands settle at my waist. “But he can’t hurt anyone else now.”
I nod, still processing. “I go back to work Monday.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Terrified. Relieved. Ready.” I pause, considering. “Mostly ready.”
“You’ll be great.”
“I know.” I manage a small smile. “Professional boundaries during work hours.”
“And very unprofessional boundaries after.”
“Definitely.”
We stand there for a moment, just holding each other. The weight of the past few weeks finally lifting.
“So,” Roman says eventually. “The team’s having a party tonight.”
“A party?”
“We won Thursday’s game against Vancouver. Dex is hosting at his place.” He pauses. “They’re celebrating the win. But I think they’ll want to celebrate this too. If you want to go.”
I think about it. About facing the team. About people knowing what happened. About having to smile and be social when I’m emotionally wrung out.
But also about being part of something again. About not hiding anymore.
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go.”
“You sure?”
“No. But I want to anyway.”
He kisses my forehead. “That’s good enough.”
“What time?”
“Seven. But we don’t have to stay long if you don’t want to.”
“Okay.” I lean against his chest. “Can we just sit here for a while first? Before we have to be around people?”
“We can do whateveryou want.”
So we move to the couch and I curl against his side and we sit in silence while the afternoon light fades.
Not talking. Not processing. Just existing in the same space, in the relief that the worst is finally over.
Winters is gone. I’m cleared. Roman’s in therapy. My mom is still dead and his brother is still gone and neither of those things will ever change.
But maybe we’ll be okay anyway.
We sit there until the light outside turns golden, until Roman’s phone buzzes with texts from the team asking when we’re coming, until I finally feel ready to face people again.
“Alright,” I say, sitting up. “Let’s go celebrate.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
