Page 27 of Falcon’s Forever

I laugh through the tears, and it sounds ridiculous, which is exactly what I need it to sound like.

"Do you still hate him?" Sarah asks.

I think about Falcon on the porch. I remember his face when I told him I’d blamed him, and the way he moved toward me before stopping the second my body tensed. He could have touched me, but he chose not to.

“No,” I answer firmly.

Maya studies my face. “That sounded definite.”

“It is,” I confirm.

She leans forward, resting her arms on the table. “What do you feel, then?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “You’ve really embraced this interrogation thing.”

“I’m curious,” Maya says, completely unapologetic.

“You’re nosy,” I correct her.

“Also true.” She reaches for another handful of popcorn.

I look away, because the honest answer is complicated enough that I don't fully trust it yet. Love, fear, hope, maybe grief for two people who existed five years ago and never got the chance to finish becoming whoever they might have been.

"He's familiar," I say finally.

Frankie's expression shifts. "That's not the same as safe."

"I know." She’s right.

"And safe isn't the same as never frightening you." She folds her arms on the table. "You've been through something most people never will. There might be things he does that trigger you even if he never means to hurt you. His bike might scare you. His voice, a slammed door, something you can't predict. That doesn't automatically make him unsafe."

"Then how do I know the difference?" I look at Frankie, I really need her to help me.

"Watch what he does when you tell him." That lands harder than anything else said tonight.

I think about the porch. Don't order me around. Fine, I'm asking. It might not seem like much to someone who hasn’t been through trauma, but to me it’s a really big thing.

"Safe doesn't mean he never makes a mistake," Frankie sets the remains of her cookie down and meets my gaze. “It means that when you tell him something hurts, he doesn’t punish you for saying it. He listens, and he adjusts. He doesn’t decide that his need to protect you matters more than your right to choose.”

I stare at her, unsure what to say.

Frankie gives me a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to decide anything today. You don’t owe him forgiveness, and you don’t owe him a relationship just because he suffered too.”

“He does love me,” I say quietly.

“I know,” Frankie replies without hesitation.

I study her face. “How do you know that?”

Her smile turns almost fond. “Cara, that man looks at you like somebody handed him his heart back, and he’s terrified he’s going to drop it. Love was never going to be the test. You already know he loves you.”

I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Then what is the test?”

Frankie’s expression turns serious. “Whether he can love you without destroying himself in the process.”

That's exactly what scares me, because Falcon believes protection means taking the bullet, walking into the fight, drawing the danger toward himself and away from everyone else. What happens when that means leaving people behind. What happens when the person he's trying to protect has to spend her life waiting to find out if he's coming home.

The phone buzzes again. Thank God. I'm not sure how much more of this I can stand tonight.