"I don't relate to you, no
'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty
You made me hate this city"

- Billie Eilish, "Happier Than Ever"

Chapter Fifty-Two

There was a moment then, where the world was completely still.

Quentin, knocked on his back, astonished as he held his jaw and gazed up at the towering form above him. Reed, menacing and unapologetic, neither of which he could be blamed for. Beck glowered in the doorway, and Simon had the faintest of smiles tickling his face, a hurt smile of satisfaction that conflicted in more ways than one. Cruz was shocked, a lot like Quentin was, yet not nearly as much. In fact, he seemed almost sad as he looked down at his friend.

The world was still for a moment.

"Get up." A sharp snarl seemed to rip out of Reed's chest.

Before then, I'd thought only animals could snarl, but that sound proved me right and wrong all at once. It was the sound of an angered, injured animal. Injured physically, emotionally, mentally. I ached for Reed, for Beck, for Simon. For Greystone.

I ached for the pain and suffering that made no sense to me. I ached for the little boy Alexei, his parents, and the little boy inside Reed. As much as Reed had rebelled in the past few weeks, he'd looked up to Quentin. As much as Reed had pushed back, Quentin was his boss, his mentor, his friend. I wasn't sure he was any of those things anymore.

Quentin only said his name. "Sterling—"

"Don't." Reed's finger jabbed at Quentin threateningly as Cruz stepped up to his friend's side, raising his hands slowly. Whether in surrender, or to pull Reed back if needed, was up for debate.

"What the hell is going on? Mr. Sterling?"

"Tell him. Tell all of us," Reed sneered. "Tell everyone what you did, boss."

Quentin slowly stood up, his hand still cradling his red jaw, and faced him. His face was beginning to puff up as he looked around the room to take in his men. He surveyed the sight before him; Beck guarding the door, Simon off to the side with a hard expression, and a ballistic Reed in front of him. I could see his mind racing, trying to decide his best course of action. He didn't get where he was by being rash or mishandling volatile situations. He was still the CEO of Greystone, and he'd earned that position one way or another.

But he wasn't aware the fuse had already been lit — and the bomb had already exploded. He didn't currently hold ground in a stand-off; all he had were the answers that'd soon be pried out of him like the daggers he'd shoved in his subordinate's backs.

"I don't understand," he treaded carefully.

"Neither do I. I don't understand, Romano. I don't understand why you sold out your own company and allowed us to be weak. Why you made us weak."

"Excuse me? I—"

"Does Elias know? Does your husband know who he married?" Reed snapped. At that, Quentin's posture changed. He straightened in anger but slumped just as fast; a flicker of emotions charging over him so quickly I couldn't keep up. Anger, guilt, despair, panic, and so much more. We were watching him speed run the stages of grief now that his secrets were ready to be laid out before him. His ears were turning red again, but this time the red seemed to consume him. Maybe he was the cornered animal after all.

"Leave him out of this," Quentin cautioned. Cruz looked closely at his friend, reading him in a way only brothers could, and it clicked. Cruz realized he was out of the loop again. For all of our sakes, I hoped this would be the last loop.

"You said you split the teams because of financial reasons," Simon spoke up. He was stoic as he prepared for the worst. "What else did you do?"

"We already know what he did. Why doesn't he just fill in the blanks?" Reed added viciously.

Quentin swung his gaze between the men before him. He avoided looking at Cruz. "Care to enlighten me then?"

"Encrypted emails." Beck's warm smile was nowhere to be seen as he spoke from his guarded place in the doorway. "Encrypted emails between Warren and someone at Greystone. You were aware the analyst team was working on them."

"You underestimated us all." Reed shook his head. "Did you think they wouldn't crack them, or did you plan on wiping the evidence before they could?"

"Or maybe you'd tried to wipe it, and you couldn't." Simon rejoined the united front. The men bounced back and forth, so smooth it was almost like they'd rehearsed the confrontation. They hadn't needed to, however, because it was their brightly shining sense of team that allowed this.

Quentin was cornered and flustered, fighting to keep his expression steady. Cruz took a step back from him, his sadness now mixed with the horror of truth. I wondered if that was the reason for the air of sadness all along. I wondered if Cruz knew the truth in some way, consciously or not, before he'd even stepped into the hospital.

"The emails pointed to a very specific IP address. Tied to a computer only you have access to," Beck pointed out.

Quentin half-turned to him, seemingly hesitant to completely turn his back to Reed.

"Someone hacked a car; they could hack my laptop."

"No. Not easily, and not without setting off more alarms than you could ever think of. All of our devices have defenses even stronger than the one's on our cars — though I'm not sure you can call it hacking a car," Beck said, matching Reed's anger as he snipped, "not when you let them in."

"We know you don't have the skills to be the one who actually controlled the car, but you do have administrative access to Greystone," Simon added as he stepped closer. "You have enough skills to open the door for someone else."

"That is preposterous!" Quentin tried to maintain his façade, but we all saw the crumbled image.

I was surprised at how much guilt I saw. He was angry, but it wasn't the angry outburst I'd been expecting. It was an anger that seemed directed more towards himself and the situation than towards the men around him. There was also a hint of confusion, and I wondered why. Was he confused how he got caught?

Cruz remained silent, watching with the weathered expression of someone who was no stranger to lost allies.

"Why? Why work with Warren Cawton?" Reed pushed. "Why help him get in Mr. Cruz's party? Did you know what Cawton's intentions were that night?"

Quentin Romano was at a crossroads — he could continue to evade, refuse to come clean, and keep dragging this out, or he could explain. I had no doubt the teams of Greystone would get their answers one way or another, but which way, and how easily, was up to Quentin. He had a lot to answer for.

He could lay it all out. He could measure the depth of his deception and willingly share it. We all knew what we hoped he'd choose, but we didn't know what he'd decide. Quentin himself didn't seem to know; a visible battle raged in him as he stood there.

It was tense as the room waited. But finally, the battle was over, and a decision was made.

"I..." His shoulders slumped further. "I'm sorry."

A pin could've dropped in that silence and the entire hospital would've heard it. Then, something shocking happened.

Cruz, who'd been watching the interaction silently, moved forward. The usually gentle man, who'd never raised his voice or gotten frustrated at those around him, stepped closer to his friend of several decades.

The level-headed man raised his arm, and for the second time that day, Quentin Romano hit the floor.

It was a shock to everyone in the room. Even the men of Greystone, who'd only had limited interactions with him, knew Cruz was not a violent man. To see him deck his best friend was a shock that rippled in all of us. It wasn't too surprising when Reed did it, but to see Cruz standing above Quentin with a fury frothing was new territory.

"Derek, I'm sorry."

Red was beginning to coat Quentin's face as he gazed pleadingly up at Cruz. From the bed, I couldn't entirely see Cruz's expression, but the little I could see made me glad I wasn't the one receiving his anger and disappointment.

"Over thirty years of friendship, and you sold my team out," Cruz spat. "You son of a bitch! You let a man with a gun into my home? When I trusted you? My wife was at that party!" He laid another punch to Quentin's broken expression, his hand tightly gripping Quentin's collar.

"My wife! You were at our wedding!" Cruz was shouting, raising his arm for another punch. Reed stepped forward and grabbed his arm before he could.

"He's not worth it, sir." Reed pulled the older man away, but Cruz fought his hold.

"Let go of me! You son of a bitch!" Cruz was spouting curses and insults left and right as Reed continued to pull him back; it wasn't clear which insults were directed at Reed and which were directed at Quentin. Reed looked torn. He wanted to let Cruz go. Hell, it was clear he wanted to punch Quentin some more, too. But the consequences were too high, and answers were still unreached.

Simon stepped forward and helped restrain Cruz. He finally calmed, regaining his control as he stood panting, staring with thick loathing at Quentin. Simon kept a firm hold on him even as Reed stepped menacingly towards Quentin again.

"Answers. Now."

Quentin was much slower to get off the floor this time. His response was tired. "Do you really want to do this here?"

His hand pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood. Reed reached over for the tissue box and threw it harshly at his chest.

"You're not going anywhere without telling us."

Quentin nodded and turned, causing everyone to tense, but Quentin only walked to a chair in the corner of the room and collapsed. He tilted his head back and used a tissue to sop up the blood. When he tossed the red stained tissue away, he finally faced us.

"Did you know when I founded Greystone, we were maybe ten guys? Barely enough for a team."

"Get on with it," Reed snapped. "We're not here to reminisce the old days."

"No," Quentin agreed. "We're not. But the old days were important."

He sighed, fixing his eyes on the floor. A cowardly move, unable to look anyone in the eyes, but it seemed to help him gather his thoughts.

"It took a long time to grow the company. We barely got any jobs. No one trusted an unknown security company to protect their most valuable assets."

I imagined that was true. It wasn't uncommon that experience was needed to get a job, but you couldn't get experience without getting a job. It was a paradox of employment most were familiar with.

"You three were part of our first wave of expansion. It took a while to get there, but I was able to expand to multiple teams. I recruited some men right out of college, like you. You were young and eager. It also meant you were inexperienced and impulsive, but that could be trained out of you." His jaw twitched as he raised his head to look at Beck, Simon, and Reed.

"You guys were good right from the start. I appreciate everything you did for Greystone. All of you proved to be valuable assets."

"I don't care. Get to the answers. When was the first time you compromised Greystone?" Reed said firmly. Quentin's gaze returned to the floor.

"It took a lot of money to expand. More than I thought it would. We were starting to get a reputation, and we were getting more jobs. But it wasn't enough. I thought our luck had changed when we got our first international job."

"Our first assignment. We'd been training for months, but that was the first time we were put into the field," Simon said. "I was surprised you let us go. I expected our first assignment to be small."

"It was supposed to be," Quentin agreed. "I didn't expect to send your team out, either. But I had to. It was an all-hands-on deck case. Usually, a team's first assignment would be low risk, but it wasn't an option that time."

I knew what was coming. I'd known it for weeks. Reed turned slightly, his eyes meeting mine. I'd briefly brought the subject up to him before.

I knew he'd hoped I was wrong, but I also knew Reed had always known I was right. The similarities between Alexei's party and Cruz's numbered too high.

"That assignment was a failure, just like Mr. Cruz's party. Are you saying both were because of you?" Simon's brow furrowed as he caught on. Quentin hesitated, but there was nowhere to escape the truth.

"Yes."

"Why? Why would you want Greystone to fail on the first international assignment we had? You risked our reputation... all for money? How did that outweigh the benefits? If we'd succeeded with that case, we could've gotten more international jobs, and we would've benefitted more in the long term."

"The case wasn't supposed to be a failure. No one was supposed to get caught. A man reached out to me shortly after I accepted the job. The politician who hired us was hated in his country, and he was suspected of illegally working with people he shouldn't have. He was using his position to benefit them, but he hadn't been caught. People wanted to change that."

"Go on," Reed roughly urged when he paused.

"I was told all they wanted was a chance to get into his office. His son's birthday party was the best opportunity. They were supposed to get in and get out. You have to know I never intended for the case to end up the way it did. It was supposed to be a success in more ways than one."

"Do you hear yourself? A four-year old's birthday party," Reed said in disgust. "Why would you risk it? What if they had other intentions like going after the politician?"

"Which for all we know, they did," Simon said.

"It was a peaceful group. I did my research, but I knew there was a risk. I tried to lower it. It wasn't easy, but I orchestrated a weak spot in our ranks for them to get in. It had to be slight enough no one at Greystone would notice, but enough for them to make it. I gave them a small window. Since I was at the party, I planned to keep an eye on them in case they tried anything. They didn't. They went straight to his office and got out shortly after."

"Except they didn't get out. They ran into me." Reed shifted on his feet. I was sure he was thinking of the bullet that went through his leg and the four-year-old that'd witnessed it.

"Yes." Quentin smiled wryly. "They did. You're too efficient at your job for your own good."

Anger, which had already been burning in my gut, swelled up to my throat. I felt like I could spew lava at how hot I felt.

"He got shot!" I exploded. "You let your own man get shot! How is that his fault?" I struggled in the bed, too angry to pay attention to the pain. Reed paid attention, however, and shook his head at me to stay still.

"That wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to be patrolling that section, but you'd changed your route to efficiently cover more ground. It was impressive. Ruined everything, but impressive. Part of the reason why you made it to where you are today. I couldn't fault you for what happened, because you did your job. You took the intruder down and saved the family, even if they weren't really at risk."

I wasn't sure I agreed with Quentin's statement of the family never being at risk. Why did the man have a gun at all? But I didn't know the full circumstances, and perhaps the gun had been more for the intruder's protection than anything else, given the owner of the home he'd been breaking into. Still, I wondered if Quentin was telling the truth. I didn't know what to believe. I only mourned for the scarred man in front of me, who'd taken a bullet he shouldn't have.

Reed's jaw was tight. He looked to be struggling to sort what he was feeling, but he set it aside for another time. "Then what?"

"I thought for sure Greystone was over. But surprisingly, the politician seemed more focused on your success than the team's failure. He blamed the intrusion on his own security team and praised us for protecting his son. Our reputation didn't get the hit it could have. And I told myself I would never do anything like that again. It went against everything I believed in, and one of my own got hurt. I still carry a lot of guilt about what happened that day."

"As you should," I snapped.

"But I was also pleased. You made Greystone proud that day." Quentin nodded at Reed.

"You did it again, though," Beck interrupted, as Reed's expression darkened. "If that was supposed to be the first and only time, then why help Cawton?"

Cruz looked ready to throw another punch as he waited for Quentin's answer.

"The same reason I did it the first time." Quentin hung his head with a dry chuckle, but it wasn't humor that caused the raspy sound to spill from his dishonest lips. "Money."

"Greedy bastard!" Cruz lunged again, but Simon held him back. For a man well into middle age, Cruz put up one hell of a fight. "That was my home! Where my family lived!"

"I'm sorry, it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

"I find that hard to believe," I scoffed. "And if so, are you really that shocked? After everything that went wrong the first time, can you really be surprised the same thing happened the second time? Both parties ended the same way. You made the same stupid decision twice."

Quentin opened his mouth to argue, but shame was a strong sedative. He fell back in his seat, sorrow clear on his face.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't know who he was saying sorry to. Was he saying sorry to me, who'd almost been killed by the man he let in? Was he saying sorry to his team, who he'd set up to fail? Was he saying sorry to his friend, who he'd lied to and betrayed for the sake of money?

Or was he saying sorry to himself, apologetic he got caught?

Either way, apologies were often given more credit than they deserved. While apologies should always be had, and it's much worse to be without, they don't heal everything. And they certainly don't heal wounds immediately. Only time could do that, and only if the victim of said apology was willing to heal.

That was still to be seen for this apology. For now, the wound was still too fresh, and the apology was too heavy in the air. It'd be a while before anyone would be able to decide what to do with it.

"This time, did you know? Did you know Cawton's plan?" Reed asked again, breaking the silence that followed Quentin's apology. Quentin scratched at the blood drying on his chin.

"No."

Did we believe him? Did we have reason to? I wasn't sure. A look around the room only showed guarded expressions from the men of Greystone and the outrage on Cruz's.

"Then why'd you think he was there?"

"He said he had a bone to pick with someone at the party. He said he couldn't get access to this person normally, but he needed to settle an account with them."

"Yeah, he had a bone to pick with Avery." Reed was tense, fury coating his words. "It sounds like you knew exactly why he was there."

"I realize that now, who he was after. I didn't know at the time, and I didn't know what he planned to do. He only said it was a lobbyist who wronged his brother. He made it seem like an attempt to sway opinion, not a violent confrontation. I'll admit I was suspicious at first. It was a warning when he said he couldn't get to the person otherwise, but I ignored it."

"Why?"

"He assured me otherwise. He said all he wanted was a conversation, and I figured the same as I did with Alexei. That it was a party, and I could keep an eye on him. Like you said, I made the same stupid mistake twice." He nodded with a wry smile in my direction. "I thought it would be different this time because the crowd was bigger. I had more security on site, and it was a high-profile event. If I hadn't been so blinded, I would've seen that as the bigger warning it was, but I saw it as cheap reassurance Cawton wouldn't do anything stupid. I thought he wouldn't risk his brother's election. I thought he would come in, do whatever political dance he wanted to do, and then I would show him the door. Just like the first time — except this time I would make sure he didn't run into anyone. It was foolish of me, but I let myself be misled by desperation. I wanted to believe something would be different."

"And the blueprints?" Beck prodded. "Why send him the blueprints if it was only for a conversation? You could have escorted him in or given him an invitation. If you did it right, no one would have been able to connect you like we are now. No one would have thought twice about you escorting someone in, not with all the high-profile guests that were there."

"I... I was ashamed. I didn't want anything to do with it that would require me lying. Not to anyone's face. I gave the blueprints so he could make his way in through a side door I unlocked. I orchestrated another window of opportunity, and he got in."

That's stupid. Don't be a criminal if you don't have the heart, or the intelligence, to get away with it.

"And you didn't think to ensure he didn't have any weapons on him?" Reed was incredulous. We all were.

"Of course, I did." Quentin's temper flared again. "Don't forget who taught you what you know. He was supposed to wait for me. When he didn't show, I assumed that was it. I didn't think he had already entered the building."

Quentin's gaze found mine. It was apologetic, but I found no room in me for acceptance.

"I didn't want to believe it was him when the gun went off. I thought – I hoped – it was someone else. I wasn't sure what was worse, if Greystone had failed or if I had."

"I guess either way it was my failure," he added after a pause. "Failure of leadership or failure of morality."

He sighed, tipping his head to the white material of the ceiling. "I failed a lot of people that night. No, I failed all of you for years. I'm sorry. I was so scared of losing Greystone that I put the company above people's lives."

"Yes, you did," Cruz commented sharply. "I would have helped you with any financial troubles you had."

"Yes, you would have. That's what was horrible about it. You grew up with money, surrounded by it, and you wouldn't have had a second thought about giving it to me. I didn't want that. Greystone was mine, built from the ground up. I didn't want your charity."

"No," Cruz disagreed. "I would have given you help whether I came from money or not. I wouldn't have thought twice about it because you were my friend, not because of how much I had. I considered you a brother."

Quentin looked pained.

"And after the party, after Avery was almost killed, you didn't think to mention your transgressions? You didn't think it was important for us to know about a potential suspect?" Reed asked.

"I would have had to admit everything. Like I said, I hoped it was someone else. I hoped I was wrong. But I did try to find Cawton after that night. Then Ramos found the pictures, and all of you were on his tail anyway. You confirmed how badly I messed up, and I was in too deep to admit it. I was terrified Cawton would come clean, or bring it up out of spite, but he didn't. He's too arrogant for that, and he knew I still had some strings to pull in exchange for his silence. I thought I layered the emails under enough protections that it wouldn't be an issue. I would open an investigation, it would fizzle, and eventually some other reason could be blamed for him getting into the party. Since the person who helped him was never found, it'd be kept quiet, or hopefully people would lose interest. But you're right, I did underestimate my teams. You realized it was me."

"Who helped you with the car? That wasn't you, just your credentials. Who did you give them to?" Irritation was clear on Beck's face. He was not happy at the doubt his own boss had in him and his team of analysts. It wasn't the shot of confidence he should have received from his leader.

Quentin's face twisted in confusion, and he shook his head.

"I didn't understand that the first time it was mentioned, and I don't understand it now. You said I let them in, but I thought the car was hacked." He swiveled to Simon. "What did you mean by administrative credentials and opening the door for someone?"

Simon didn't answer, but Beck did.

"It was hacked, but not entirely. They never would have been able to get in on their own. Every security wall I put up can be brought down or altered with administrative access. Only three people have it. Me, so I can do my job, Reed, and you. Considering I was the one fighting the hacking and I don't think Reed was trying to drive himself off a cliff, that leaves you. Not only that, but each access has signatures to it. Yours is all over the programming of vehicle 2213, which is now at the bottom of a cliff. You used your access and let someone in. They took control and locked me out. I barely took it back in time. And you know all of this, so don't pretend otherwise. We've had multiple briefings about our digital security."

"So, you think I gave it to someone else? I didn't even remember about administrative access. I left all of our digital dealings in your hands because it's your job, no matter how many briefings you think we've had. If I needed security walls set up or brought down, I would go to you or another analyst. I wouldn't use any sort of access. I didn't even remember I had it, and I never would have used it. I had no need to."

"Not until now, I'm presuming. I'll ask again. Who did you give it to? And by the way, I've locked you out. It won't work anymore, but it will tell me what I need to know if your buddy tries to get in our systems again," Beck warned with a scowl.

"I didn't give anything to anyone!"

"Other than blueprints to an attempted murderer," I muttered, scratching at the IV in my arm. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Either Quentin was very adept at using the 'I'm old and unfamiliar with technology' argument or someone orchestrated a very elaborate assassination attempt on both Reed and I's lives.

"I don't believe you." Beck stepped forward out of the doorway. His Greystone side was coming out, making him rather intimidating. I said once I had no doubt Beck could do some serious damage with a keyboard as a weapon, in more ways than one, but he didn't seem to need it now. He didn't need to swing a keyboard or hit some keys to threaten someone.

"How else would someone have gotten them? And who would do it? Why Reed and Avery?" Simon asked, deep in thought. His gaze fell on us as he worked his jaw, seeming to sort through theories in his mind. "Has Cawton said anything else to the authorities?"

"Cawton?" Cruz jerked his chin in confusion. "You think this still has something to do with him?"

"It's the most recent case, and the only theory that makes sense right now. Unless there's some other past enemy coming out of the woodworks to join the party, in which case they have the worst timing." Simon sighed. I hated to admit it, but after the past few months it didn't seem all that far-fetched to me anymore.

"But Cawton's in custody, how could he have anything to do with this?"

"I wouldn't put it past him to have friends in high places. Or family in high places, rather," Simon pointed out.

Cruz looked very ready to return to his retirement now. "He's up for bail, but it's still undetermined if his family will be helping with that."

"Bail?" Reed asked sharply. "Why the hell would he be let out?"

"Friends in high places." Cruz shook his head in defeat. "I worked in this field for a long time, Mr. Sterling. There is too much to fix, and not enough of us willing to do it."

"So, are we saying Cawton is the most likely suspect for this? What are the next steps?" Simon asked. Cruz's face darkened, and he turned to Quentin, who had the wisdom to have remained quiet during this conversation.

"Well, I still have to find the traitor in my own office. And Romano here has some paying to do for his actions."

Quentin looked up, but I found no argument on his face or rebuttal falling from his tongue. In fact, he looked at peace now. His deceit had been revealed, and a weight lifted from his traitorous shoulders. He looked ready to face the consequences.

I rather hoped he did. He wasn't the worst person I'd ever met, and this could've been a lot worse than it was, but I held little sympathy for the man. Not after almost losing Reed. Not after almost losing my life, multiple times. Not after everything.

"What happens with Greystone now? We're ruined." Simon tucked his hands into his pockets, gazing around at his teammates. I didn't think Beck and Reed had an answer, however. Greystone had a strong reputation still, but it didn't matter all the good they'd done or the high number of successful cases. All it took was one dark shadow, one bad case, to ruin a reputation and topple an empire. Not only had Quentin toppled it — he'd compromised its foundation from the very beginning.

"There's still a lot to figure out. But not today," Reed said quietly. I looked over, seeing his eyes were already on me. They were steady, and sad, and traced over my soul in a way that made my lungs quiver.

Simon followed his eyes to me, nodding as he recognized something. He stepped towards Quentin, roughly pulling his former boss up and shoving him towards the door. Beck and Simon escorted the disgraced CEO out. I didn't know where, but I wasn't too concerned with it right then. Cruz watched them leave with an angry distaste, knowing his retirement was still out of reach. I hoped he had a chance to truly find it soon.

I hoped this would all be over soon, for good.

Cruz stepped towards the door, ready to follow, but paused and turned back to me. "I'm glad you're okay, Avery. I'm sorry this happened to you."

I nodded, unsure what else to say. I was exhausted after everything that'd gone down that day, the day before, that week, that month, that life. I was tired.

"And I'm sorry about Baros," he continued. "You would've done very well on his team."

I stared. I looked at Cruz's weary, remorseful expression and felt everything freeze again. I felt my stomach drop, and the air escape my lungs.

I turned to the clock. I was hours too late.

I'd missed my opportunity to plead my case, to attempt to sort something out with Ambassador Baros, to try to regain my position on his team. I'd forgotten about it in the chaos. I'd forgotten about something so important to me, so crucial to who I was all my life.

I'd forgotten about the call.

Cruz said nothing more, and I could find no words. He slipped out of the hospital room, closing the door softly behind him, and my head tilted onto my pillow. I swallowed harshly as I stared at the off-white ceiling.

I was in shock. I was emotionless, yet overcome with emotions. I was adrift in a tidal wave, yet standing alone on an island. I was drowning and dying of thirst all at once. Everything was catching up to me.

A gentle hand met mine, soft as it curved to fill the space of my palm, and between my fingers. I didn't look. I didn't need to. I shifted on the bed and made some room; he pressed against me, careful of both of our injuries. He lightly pulled, fitting us together until we were one on the bed. My head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, and his chin rested lightly on top.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was quiet in the then stale air of the hospital room. It was heavy, and true, and real. He was real. I loved him for that. I loved him for so many reasons.

"Me too."

"Bandaids don't fix bullet holes..." - T.S.

I don't know if this came as a surprise to anyone. It wasn't necessarily intended to be a jaw-dropper.

Even when you're right, overthinking can make you doubt yourself. Even when you knew something all along, self-doubt can make you wonder if you knew anything at all. Avery's realized this, more than once now.

This chapter will probably be quite the headache when the book is over and I start the deep comb through of revision. That'll be starting soon.

Because there's only two chapters left.

- H