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“So you killed him? Is that how your brain works now?” she asks, brows pulled together in shock and disgust. “The Cole I knew was once late to a date with me because he drove past a mom and her kid stuck on the side of the road when their car broke down. I waited an hour for you, and you showed up covered in motor oil, apologizing and kissing me and saying it’d never happen again. You cared about people, Cole. Who the hell are you now?”

Change doesn’t happen overnight, especially when you become a bleaker version of yourself. I sank into the darkness, a slow and steady suffocation that, by the time I noticed it, had already seeped into my bones and become a part of me.

The old me cared, but the old me had a family and Sunday. She was my reminder that there’s a reason to be kind, because maybe one day she’d need a stranger to care about her. Losing my link to humanity made it easier to step away from. The distance meant I lost sight of morality.

I lose sight of myself.

My words fail me, though, so I sit against a cabinet, and say nothing.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but Sunday doesn’t speak. She used to be the kind of person who could never sit still, always talking and eager to start the next task, but I also know she meditates now and sometimes has days where she shuts out the world and binges reality shows on her own. She’s changed, too, I guess.

“It was raining, wasn’t it?” My voice echoes and feels louder after so much silence, and in my peripheral, Sunday looks over at me. “When I helped that mom and her kid, it was pouring with rain. By the time I got to you, your hair was drenched, your clothes were soaked, and you were so angry with me.” I rest my head back against a cabinet. “I asked why you didn’t just go into the movie theatre, and you said⁠—”

“—because I’m dramatic.”

I dip my head, and smile at her. “You wanted to argue with me in the rain, but I kissed you instead.”

Her lips were cold that night. Her cheeks were, too. She was angry I was late, but I was angry because she could’ve gotten sick by trying to prove a point. That’s who she was, though. She was the girl who’d wait in the rain, and I was the one who gave her shelter.

I see that girl now. Raindrops dripping down her face, mascara smudged eyes red-rimmed and filled with fury. Back then, I could solve things with a kiss.

Now there aren’t enough kisses in the world to fix what I broke in her.

She watches me, the woman she is now, and the hurt is there but it’s muted by the strength she gained in the years without me. “You had this heroic story that meant I wasn’t allowed to be mad at you.”

“Worked every time.”

“Asshole,” she grumbles, and my smile grows. She exhales deeply. “When did we grow up?”

“Is that what we did?”

“Well, we’re definitely not teenagers anymore.”

No, we’re not. We’re adults and we’re strangers, and I hate it.

“I’d give anything to go back, and not make that promise to you,” I admit, even though I know saying it will never be enough.

“You could’ve just kept the promise, instead,” she whispers. “You could’ve come home to me.”

Yes, I could have, but that would’ve been a lie, too. She wouldn’t have got the boy she loved back, or the man I said I’d be. I’d have disappointed her, and her heart would’ve broken anyway. At least I gave her memories to hold onto.

I stand and open the shower door, taking a seat on the tiled floor beside her. “Christopher was a bad guy. Believe me when I tell you he would’ve hurt you a lot more if you’d kept seeing him. His family are safer without him.”

His wife was hiding bruises, and previous charges brought against him were always dropped because he was best friends with a cop. No way was I letting him near Sunday.

She chews her lip. “He was?”

“Yes.”

“Would you have killed him even if you hadn’t found that out?”

“No. Probably roughed him up a little bit, though.” She elbows me and I huff a small laugh. “I didn’t like him kissing you.”

“Ew, you watched us kiss? Oh my god, are you the person who broke into his car after I invited him in?” I shrug a shoulder and she punches me in the ribs. I use the small scuffle as an opportunity to put my arm around her shoulders and pull her close.

To my relief, she relaxes into my side, resting her head against my neck. The warmth of her, the feel of her … it’s so fucking familiar, but it’s more than that. It feels like maybe I didn’t lose my home after all.

She sighs softly, her breath tickling my throat. “Why does this feel like coming home?”