Page 95 of Falcon’s Forever

His mouth tightens. “That sucks.”

“You want me to tell you it’s spiritually enriching?”

“No.” He sets another box down. “It sucks. It’s still the right thing.”

I pick up the next case. “She might not see it that way.”

“She’ll see what you’re doing,” Ice Pick says.

“That’s not why I’m doing it.”

“Good.” That means more coming from him than it should. I stare at the case in my hands instead of looking at him.

“What if she doesn’t come back?” I ask.

Ice Pick doesn’t hesitate. “Then she doesn’t.”

I turn toward him. “That’s not helpful.”

“You asked.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were going to.” He picks up the inventory sheet and keeps reading, completely unbothered by my glare. “You’re still my brother. You’re still Falcon. That part was never the patch.”

“I know that.”

Ice finally looks at me. “That’s good.”

By evening the hospital confirms Emily can likely go home tomorrow if her vitals hold, not to the damaged house, but to the temporary rooms near the clubhouse until repairs finish, and then a group decision about whether she returns there or moves to the transition property. It’s their choice, and I like that they get the choice.

The sun's nearly gone when I step outside. I think about walking toward the women's house and stop myself before I get very far, turning for the garage instead. My phone buzzes. Cara.

Cara:

Sterling said you're handling security for Maggie's house. Thank you for not moving anyone without asking them.

I read it twice before I let myself answer.

Falcon:

It was their call to make.

Three dots appear, disappear, come back.

Cara:

Yes. It was.

I wait. Nothing else follows, and then, a minute later:

Cara:

Emily is awake and being a nightmare.

I smile before I can stop it.

Falcon: