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“My brother most likely. He’s seventeen now. He loves us, but he hates kids. She’s got a cousin that lives nearby that pops in occasionally. For the most part, though, it’s all her.”

Just as I began to worry that he was considering a move home, the pain became too much. It took some convincing, but he let me track down more painkillers for him.

To my surprise, the doctors said that as long as Ryan’s brain scans continued to come back clear, he could be discharged in a matter of days. They said that his healing was the best-case scenario, and everything that we could possibly hope for. The only issue that arose was deciding where Ryan would be discharged to. He would need constant care while he healed, and he didn’t want to bring any trouble to the Thompsons. I didn’t hesitate: I was taking him home with me

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he protested.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering, your mom is already settled in the guest room, so I guess you’re stuck bunking with me.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Oh no, how ever will I survive?”

“With me waiting on you hand and foot—the redneck five-star treatment.”

Those first few nights were rough. We were given lengthy instructions and hours of training on taking care of him physically, but none of that could have prepared for the scars that we couldn’t see.

The nightmares were beginning to take a toll on him. Once he weaned off the painkillers, he wouldn’t sleep more than a couple of hours before waking up screaming. The nightmares upset him to the point where he’d end up violently throwing up, which made us worry that he’d rip his incision open.

Given that none of us slept through the night, naps during the day became part of our regular routine. By early afternoon, we could hardly keep our eyes open.

One of those days, a late-season tropical storm provided the perfect backdrop for a lazy day in bed. Rain pelted against the windows and the howling wind rustled the trees outside my bedroom window. As my eyes fluttered open, it took me a moment to pick out the sound of someone knocking on the door. Peering at Ryan, I was relieved to see that he was still fast asleep. Groggy, I trudged out of bed and to the front door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I called out as the knocking persisted.

Curiosity transformed into disdain once I pulled the heavy, wooden door open. Grace stood there. I rolled my eyes, grabbing a jacket and stepping onto the porch. It was early September, but cold, bitter wind whipped around me.

“What are you doing here, Grace?” I pulled my arms around me and hoped she’d make this fast.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Her soft voice was barely audible over the storm. “I heard about… you know.”

I took a deep breath to center myself. I was tired—in every meaning of the word. Fed up with her and her games, my voice was flat when I finally opened my mouth. “You drove over here during the storm of the century, while I’ve got a million things going on, to ask me about a rumor you heard? Grace, what part of ‘leave me alone’ did you not understand?”

She ignored my question entirely. “What’s her name?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The girl,” she said with fire in her eyes. “Last time I saw you, you said you were interested in someone else. Who is she?”

“There’s no girl,” I shrugged, deciding to regain control over the whole “coming out” thing.

Grace’s brows knitted together. “But you said⁠—”

“I said I was interested in someone.”

“So… the rumors are true.”

“Yeah, they are.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “I have a boyfriend.”

“No, you don’t,” Grace scoffed.

Deciding not to entertain her with a fight, I simply looked at her. The storm around us seemed to be the only sound for what felt like hours. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the crack and crash of a falling tree. I glanced around me, hoping the ones surrounding my house were strong enough to survive. They swayed back and forth, reminding me of the fear I’d felt as a kid watching them.

“Y-you’re not…” Grace stammered. “We were together for nine years! We… We had sex! You’re telling me I had sex with a gay man?”

By the end, her shouting overpowered the storm. I begged her to keep it down, not wanting Ryan to wake up alone.

“No, you didn’t have sex with a gay man, because I’m not gay. I don’t… know what I am. You had sex with me, Grace. You dated me. I’m still the same person. I loved you, Grace, every day for the better part of a decade. That doesn’t change just because I’m…” I still didn’t know what term to use. I hesitated, trying to make myself say something… anything, but nothing came. “Because I’m dating a man now. The thing that did change that, was you acting like I was some toy you could throw in the closet and come back to when you got bored. I don’t know what you expected coming here, but I hope you got your answer, because this is the last time you’ll contact me. Next time, I won’t be entertaining you with a conversation.”

I ran a hand through my disheveled curls, unsure of what would make her understand. “I’m not angry. I’m done being angry. I’m just… done. I’m over this; I’m over you. I truly hope you and Sawyer are happy. Goodbye, Grace.”