Page 134 of Made for Mayhem

The night kept breathing outside—bullfrogs croaking down by the river, crickets chirring, aspens rustling like they were whispering secrets to the moon.

Ty’s voice came out of the dark, barely louder than the crickets. “That was good, Daisy. She’d be proud of you. Proud of both of you.”

My throat tightened until breathing felt optional. “It didn’t feel good. It felt like ripping open a wound just to stare at it.”

“Sometimes that’s the only way it heals,” he murmured.

I let out a shaky breath that sounded too loud in the quiet. “I don’t feel like I’m healing, Ty. I feel… broken.”

His thumb brushed a slow circle at my hip, steady and grounding. “You’re not broken,” he said, voice fierce and quiet at once. “You’re grieving. There’s a difference.”

That pulled something raw and ugly out of me. “I don’t want to be more weight you have to carry, Ty. You’ve already⁠—”

“Stop.” The single word cracked like a whip, soft as it was. “You are not weight, Daisy. You and this little girl—you’re the reason I get up in the morning. You’re what I dream about when I close my eyes. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, no matter the circumstances this all came to be.”

My eyes prickled again, tears I didn’t think I had left gathering hot and sudden. “What if I fall apart again tomorrow? Next week? Next month?”

“Then I’ll be right here,” he said, no hesitation, no pretty lie. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He paused, forehead lowering closer to mine. “I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated, like he was saying it to himself as much as to me.

Junie stirred, murmuring something about cows in her sleep, and burrowed deeper into both of us, small hands clinging like we were the only solid things in her dreams.

It split me open and stitched me shut in the same breath.

“Ty…” I whispered, not sure what came next.

Thank you.

I’m terrified.

Everything hurts.

You’re too good.

I don’t deserve this.

His hand slid from my hip to the small of my back, palm spread wide and warm, grounding. “It’s okay to crack,” he said again, like a vow. “I’ll hold the pieces until you’re ready to put them back together. However long that takes.”

A long silence settled, soft and full as a down comforter. I closed my eyes and let my forehead rest against his, just above Junie’s curls. The warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of Junie’s breathing between us—it felt like the only place the world wasn’t spinning faster than I could bear.

32

I leaned against the corral fence, watching the afternoon turn gold over the river. Everything was peaceful, the steady quiet I loved out here, and yet my pulse thumped loud enough to drown it all out.

The house was finished.

Over the last three days, everyone I knew had shown up to help, and Violet’s house was completely transformed from a few weeks ago. Part of me was excited to see Daisy’s reaction to it all, but the dread…

Fuck, the dread was heavy.

What if seeing it finished didn’t make Daisy happy?

What if every time she looked at it, it was another painful reminder that her sister was gone?

But this was a house, not an urn. And it was right there, at the end of my driveway.

There was no hiding this reminder. No avoiding it.