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“Sure,” she replies, finally putting a movie on and getting comfortable on the couch, her legs stretched out a few inches from mine. “Why did you move here?” She pauses the movie, her head turned toward me, her eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. “I don’t know.” She answers honestly. “My lease was up, and I just…” She trails off. “I guess I thought I would get more closure if I moved here, that I would realize he’s really dead and that I could move on.” She swallows hard. “I know he’s dead. I was there when he died—” She pauses again. One lonely tear runs down her cheek. I wipe it away, my thumb softly caressing her cheek. Her lips lift in a small grin, and she mutters a quiet “Thank you.”

“You saw what happened?”

“I saw it, but I didn’t realize it fully until the nurse in the hospital told me what had really happened.” She chuckles, not a speck of joy in the sound, only despair. “I thought it was paint.” She chuckles again, her normally vibrant green eyes now dull, more tears run down her cheeks. “I was so naive, I woke up and my throat was hurting, I thought, I had the cold again I wanted to get up to get a cold medicine, but I couldn’t move, and then I saw him with a knife, and he was walking over to mickey, and I tried to get up, I really tried Carson.” A sob spills from her lips. My heart breaks at the sight.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be okay in a second.” Her voice cracks. She turns her face away from me to hide her tears. Fuck that. I’m not letting her suffer alone. She has me now. I’m not going to sit here and let her cry.

“Is it okay if I give you a hug?” I don’t want to do something without her permission, but it’s killing me not to comfort her. “Yeah.”

I grab her by her underarms, pulling her into my lap. She burrows her head in the crook of my neck, wetting it with her tears. I hold her tightly against me. One hand holding her head against me, the other one rubs her back softly. “I know you did everything you could,” I assure softly, my heart breaking with each tear she sheds.

“He would be so proud of you.”

She sniffles before asking quietly, “You think so?”

“Absolutely.” Slowly, her body starts to relax. Her head goes slack in the crook of my neck. Her hands wrapped around my back loosen. I lean against the pillow, cradling her body tighter against me. Then I close my eyes, listening to the sound of her breathing.

When I wake up, I’m lying flat out on the couch, my head comfortably on the pillow. My shoes, which I’m a hundred percent sure I was wearing when we fell asleep, are now standing on the floor underneath the table. A soft grey blanket covers my body, neatly tucked into the couch. Next to my head lies a Post-it with only two words written on it.

Thank you.

Chapter Eleven

Alexis

The smell of bacon reaches me as I walk down the stairs. I hop off the last step.

“Morning,” I greet my voice laced with fatigue. I don’t understand how Carson is a morning person. It takes me at least ten minutes to get out of my bed after my alarm goes off.

Carson has been staying here for a full week now. I was greeted with an extensive breakfast on my dining table the morning after my breakdown. I woke up panicked when I saw I was still sitting on his lap. He was sleeping peacefully, his arms still wrapped around my back. It had taken me over thirty minutes to get off his lap. Each time I tried to pry his hands free, he would pull me closer. He was only satisfied when I placed a throw pillow in his arms. He cradled the pillow so gently, I almost wanted to be the pillow instead. I had stared at this body far too long, recalling the way he had comforted me, how he had pulled me in his lap so effortlessly and had let me cry in his neck, how his hand kept rubbing my back in a way that made my body melt against his. He didn’t comment on anything. He kept hugging me like I had never been hugged before.

The next morning I was so embarrassed. But he had shut me down immediately. He had offered me a seat and kept filling my plate with a lot more food than I could probably eat, but I didn’t have the heart to say that. He had really outdone himself. There were cooked eggs, and he made blueberry pancakes, then when I was finished he had cleared my plate and did the dishes. Keeping his eyes on me the whole time. I wanted to thank him again for comforting me, but he told me I shouldn’t thank him for that. He said he was honored I told him, and that if I ever needed someone to talk to, I could always talk to him.

Over the next few days, we started a rhythm. Every morning when I came downstairs, I was greeted with a homemade breakfast. We’d eaten mostly in silence, other times we watched television. After that, he’d gone to work. He works twelve-hour shifts, so he always eats dinner at the station, but every day he asked what I was eating for dinner and offered to bring me something when he was done. I had rejected his offer every time, thanking him but explained I didn’t want him to leave work so I could have dinner. After every shift, he would come home and knock on my front door with food in his hands. The first time it was my favorite tub of ice cream, the same one he had gotten me days prior.

Other times it was candy or different kinds of chocolate. He even made sure there weren’t any peanuts in it. At night, he would lie down on the couch, and we’d watch a movie. Yesterday, we watched Ash’s baseball game. Carson is a true supporter. He had a jersey with Ash’s name on it and wore it the whole game. I didn’t know he was a fan. I hadn’t told him I knew his favorite baseball player personally. I’m hoping I can surprise him with it someday. Ash always tells me I am his loudest fan, but I know that isn’t true anymore, because the way Carson yelled at my television is louder than I could ever be.

Carson always fell asleep leaning against my shoulder. Sometimes he’d even hold my hand. When I was sure he was really asleep, I would tuck him in and quietly exit the room. I haven’t had any more breakdowns since that night. Every conversation Carson and I have had has been about lighter topics. “Morning, Sunshine.” Carson greets me back, snapping me back to our conversation.

“Sleep well?”

I nod as he slides my chair back, motioning for me to sit, then gently slides it toward the table, careful not to hit my stomach. He scoops food onto my plate, the delicious bacon I’d been smelling finally in my reach. Carson is standing behind the stove wearing a pair of grey shorts and a black tank top. I pretend I don’t notice how his biceps bulge as he flips the pancakes.

“How long have you and Killian known each other?” I ask when I have swallowed my food.

“Fifteen years, we met at school, he was my first real friend.”

“Wow, and you guys have been best friends all this time?”

“Yeah, we argue sometimes, like everyone, but yeah, he’s always been my best friend. He didn’t have the easiest home life, so he was at my house a lot.”

“Oh, are his parent’s divorced?”

“Something like that, his mother has never been in the picture, it was just him and his dad and let’s just say his father isn’t getting any award for best dad. I won’t go into details since it’s not my story to tell, but I’m glad he had me. My parents welcomed him with open arms, I swear he’s there more than me.”

“I’m glad he has you, and your family.” I take another bite of my bacon, thinking back to something he said when we just met. He claimed he has lived here his whole life, so he must know what happened to this town after I left. Right?

“This may sound weird, but how did people here react, when they heard about the attack?”