Page 85 of Falcon’s Forever

Frankie laughs softly before I can stop myself from using the phrase again.

“Sorry,” she says.

“You’re not,” I tell her.

“Not even a little,” Frankie admits.

Sarah looks down at her hands. "I think I understand it. When they first brought me here I hated all of them. The bikes, the patches, the men outside the house. I hated Vulture because everybody listened when he talked. I hated Ice Pick because he looked scary." A small pause. "But I also wanted them there. I'd wake up and check the curtains just to make sure somebody was outside."

I understand that better than Sarah knows.

“I hated needing them,” I admit.

Sarah studies me for a moment. “Maybe wanting Falcon here and not wanting him here can both make sense.”

Tears sting my eyes without warning. I blink them back. “You’re getting annoyingly wise.”

“You taught me,” Sarah says softly.

“Then I clearly need to stop,” I tell her.

She smiles, and I lean back and think about what Frankie. Falcon wasn't the reason Emily got shot, I know that. I think I knew it even standing in the living room telling him I was done. But his choice mattered, because it showed me the part of him that still scares me. He hears danger and believes the safest place for everyone else is wherever he isn't.

That's not evil. It's not even cruelty. It's something broken, and I love him too much to pretend it doesn't matter.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life waiting for a phone call," I say.

"I understand that," Frankie says. "I feel the same with all of the brothers."

"So, what am I asking for, then?" I ask because I haven’t got a clue.

Frankie thinks for a moment. "For him to know the difference between danger he has to face and danger he chooses because he thinks his life's worth less than everyone else's."

The words sit somewhere I don't have language for until she says it. That's it. That's the whole thing.

The door to Emily’s room opens, and a nurse steps into the hallway. We’re all on our feet before she reaches us.

“She’s awake,” the nurse tells us.

Every other thought disappears. “Can we see her?” I ask.

“One at a time to start,” she says.

Frankie points at me. “Cara.”

“Sarah should...” I begin.

“Emily asked for you,” the nurse says.

I stare at her. “Me?”

A smile touches her face. “She said the woman who lies about favorite colors.”

A laugh breaks out of me at the same time as the tears come. I wipe them away and follow the nurse into the room.

Emily looks tiny in the bed. She looks pale, tired, but alive. Her eyes open when I move closer.

“There you are,” she whispers.