Page 91 of Wreckage and Rain

"Thank you. For what you did for her."

"I didn't do anything. She did it. I just gave her a room."

"It was everything."

"Yeah. It was."

I finish my bourbon. Leave cash. More than the drink costs.

"I'll be back. If that's okay."

He picks up my glass but doesn't move to wash it. "It's a public venue." A beat. "But hear me. I pulled her out of the water once, and I know how far under she went, which is further than she'll ever tell you. I'm not going anywhere. Not at the holidays, not at three in the morning, not ever. You don't get a vote on that." His eyes don't leave mine. "And if you're ever the reason she's drowning again, I won't be measuring you across a bar. We clear?"

It's more than a friend's place to say. He says it anyway, and I have no standing to tell him so, because the place was his at three in the morning when it should have been mine.

"We're clear."

"Then yeah. You can come back."

I walk out into the Chicago night. The word stays with me. Almost.

Chapter 26: The Stage

Summer

Autumn arrives on Friday at seven PM with a suitcase, a bottle of tequila, and the energy of a woman who has been physically vibrating for the entire flight.

"Let me look at you." She holds me at arm's length. Scans me. The full Autumn assessment. "You're different."

"Good different?"

"You're bigger. Not like you gained weight. Like you are taking up more space. Taking what you want and making sure people know what that is. Like you decided the world owes you something and you came to collect." She tilts her head and that smile flashes across her face, the one that has been getting her into and out of trouble for fifteen years. "It looks good on you, babe. Own it."

I laugh. She hears it and something in her face cracks open with relief.

I take her to Vibes. Sam is behind the bar when we walk in. He looks up. He sees Autumn next to me and his eyes widen by maybe a millimeter and his head tilts to the side and then he shakes his head once like a man clearing static off a radio, and he resets his face and reaches for a glass. Autumn, beside me, has gone very quiet. She is staring at him with the same wide-eyed expression I haven't seen on her face since she was sixteen and a lacrosse player named Marcus walked into the diner and ordered a milkshake. She doesn't blink for what feels like four seconds. Then she comes back to earth, presses a hand flat against the bar, and accepts the mezcal Sam has already set down in front of her without her ordering it.

I watch them like I am watching a tennis match. Eyes left, eyes right. I take my own shot and I don't say anything, but I do smirk into the rim of the glass on the way down.

Seed planted. Not by me.

After the show, in a booth. I tell Autumn about Colt. The coffee meetings. The therapy. Colt's plan to win me back by showing up and doing the work.

"He was drugged, Summer." Autumn's voice is careful. "That was assault. I am not saying forgive him for any of the shitty choices he made with Cheyenne before that moment. But what happened in that hotel room. That wasn't him."

"I have read the report four times. I could recite the page numbers."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I think I already know. That's the part that scares me." I drag my finger through the condensation on the table. "He is different, Autumn. He is taking full accountability with no excuses. He is here. He is sitting with me when we are out getting coffee and he isn't asking me for anything. He sat at Sam's bar last week and he didn't try to dominate the room."

"People change."

"People say they've changed. Actually changing is different."

"And you think he actually has?"

"I think he's trying. I think the trying is real."