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“We’ll talk about this tomorrow, if you want.”
“Okay.” I incline my head in agreement.
“Let’s talk baby talk right now,” she says as we sit down.
“You good?” Ever asks.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I assure her. I’m better . . . Not great. Not good. Not exactly okay, but I will be because this place is safe. These people are safe. I’m safe. I just have to keep telling myself that. Just as I’ve learned in my sessions with Ariel.
And I breathe . . .
Ever’s voice snaps me from my thoughts.
“Good. I need help putting the crib together.” She jumps right to it.
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Memphis yells over to her.
“No, sweetie, you just can’t follow directions very well,” she says as we all crack up—my breakdown forgotten. For now.
This is family. Home.
