Eleven

Ten

River

When I get to Walter's office on Wednesday, he greets me with a broad smile.

"You look well, River," he says. "You look happy."

He's the third person to tell me that this week. Do I really walk around looking dour all the time? Or is it something specifically about Judson that makes me seem extra happy?

"Thanks," I say, taking my usual spot on the loveseat. "Judson and I have been talking a lot."

"Oh?" Walter places his tablet on his lap, holding his stylus slightly above it. "And that's been going well?"

I nod. "We talked about why Judson left in the first place. And he helped me fill in some blanks I had about the day we escaped from Ian's place."

"Would you like to share it with me?"

It used to annoy me when he asked that question. Made me feel like I was in kindergarten or something. But it didn't take me long to realize what it actually was—the freedom to say no if I wanted to. He saw my need to be reminded that I was in charge of my healing before I even knew it was an issue.

I tell him what Judson said about pushing Ian and watching him fall. How he went back in for me because he didn't realize Ian was already dead and didn't want to risk leaving me alone or calling the cops in case Ian came back and the police didn't get there in time.

"I always knew Judson had to have gotten us out of there because I remembered the drive to the hospital in the pick-up. But I didn't know about how he pushed Ian."

"And did it bother you to learn it?" Walter asks.

"You'd think it would since I went into a career that's all about saving people, but it didn't. I'm glad Ian's dead instead of wasting resources in a jail somewhere. With him gone, we didn't have to testify or see him again. It's just over." I glance down at my hands. "I'm not sure that's an okay thing to think or say."

"Of course it is," Walter says immediately. "There's nothing wrong with being thankful that you don't have to suffer anything more at his hands."

I pick at my thumbnail for a second, gathering courage. Because if there's anyone I can talk to about this, it's Walter. "Judson also told me something else. The reason why he left in the first place."

I don't wait for him to ask me if I'd like to tell him this time. I just blurt it all out. Everything Judson told me about the party and the things Ian said about ruining me.

Walter doesn't interrupt me once, and I'm thankful for his silence. It makes it easier to slide into the rest of the story. About the fact that Judson and I have been sleeping together.

"And I'm worried we're making a mistake," I finish, still picking at my thumbnail.

"Why is that?" Walter asks.

"Because I think Judson's using our time together as a way to cope with what happened."

"I see." He scratches at the stubble on his chin. "Do you feel used after being with him?"

"No, not at all." I don't want to go into why I don't feel that way, because that's just between me and Judson.

"Then, what's happening that makes you think he's hiding behind it?"

"Because…because he feels so guilty about what Ian did to me. And I'm a little worried that the bond we forged because of Ian has permanently altered our relationship."

"Like Ian will always be between you two?"

"Yeah, exactly. And…sometimes it's been really obvious that he needs to talk about something, but he lets things get physical instead. Like he's coping through that."

"And that bothers you?"

"Not in the way it sounds. It's just that…we did that in the basement at Ian's place. It helped us keep our sanity, to be together like that. But we're not at Ian's place anymore. And I'm worried that if he's still using the same coping mechanisms, is he still stuck in that moment?"

"Have you asked Judson about it?"

"No. I'm not really sure if I should. I feel like it would sound like an accusation no matter how I phrased it."

"Well, if that is what he's doing, there's a good chance he'll see it as an accusation no matter how you phrase it. But if it's something that's weighing on you, then you should bring it up with him. You can't be responsible for anyone else's feelings or actions. Not even Judson's."

Even though I know he's right, I don't want him to be. I want to be able to fix Judson, to help him like he's always helped me. Getting lost in each other was the only thing that kept me grounded when we were trapped with Ian. When I woke up in the hospital, I didn't have that anymore. My parents practically shoved me into therapy, and I learned new ways to help cope. Things I don't think Judson ever learned.

I hate the thought of him dealing with that on his own.

"Let's talk about you for a second," Walter says after a long moment of silence. "Judson came back to town about two weeks ago, right?"

I nod.

"Has his presence had any kind of negative effect on you? Have you been thinking about Ian more or had any nightmares?"

I shrug. "No more than usual. To be honest…this foolish part of me hoped they'd go away entirely when Judson came back."

"That's not foolish," Walter says. "And that was negative self-talk."

I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Fine, it was na?ve."

He can't argue with that. It wasn't like I was waiting around for him to come back and save me from the nightmares and memories, but a part of me couldn't help remembering how safe I always felt with Judson. If anyone could ward off invisible monsters, it's him.

"There's nothing wrong with having heroes," Walter says. "But I don't want you thinking you need Judson in any way to live a full life. You missed him, and you wanted him back, but you were surviving without him. You've made a lot of progress since you first started seeing me."

He's not wrong. I don't even like to think too much about what I was like when I first crawled into his office. I was afraid of everything and just wanted to be home—I didn't even make it through the first session. Then I cried all the way through the second and third. I could tell it was scaring my parents, but there wasn't anything I could do to stop it.

I shake my head. "That feels like a lifetime ago."

Walter gives me a gentle smile. "It was for you, River. You should be proud of all you've accomplished."

Warmth settles in my chest and stays there throughout the rest of our session. Walter's right—I was making it before Judson came back to town. I love being with him again, but I'll survive it again when he leaves to go back to Seattle.

But there's a tiny part of me that feels like if I move on completely, it'll be like leaving Judson all alone still trapped in Ian's house.

Judson

The nursery is a total mess when we get started in it. The only piece of furniture already put together is a rocking chair in the corner. At least the walls were painted a pale yellow already. McKenzie told me River did it for her a few months ago.

I try to focus on all the boxes instead of River currently sitting in the middle of the floor, his T-shirt sleeves stretched tight around his biceps as he lifts part of a crib into a standing position.

"Come hold this," he says without bothering to look up at me.

I put a hand on the crib side to hold it steady and glance back to check on McKenzie, who's rocking slightly in the chair in the corner, her hand resting on her belly.

River double checks the instruction manual before slotting a screw into the crib head to connect it with the side I'm holding up.

The tiny wrench that came with the crib makes a rattling sound as he tries to match it up with the screw.

"You know, when you offered to help put this stuff together, I thought that meant you had some expertise or something."

He pauses to glare up at me. "She needs these put together soon. Not next year when you learn how to use a tool."

"Right now, you're the only tool I see in the room."

"Judson," McKenzie chastises.

"It's okay," River says. "He's just jealous."

He flicks his wrist once more before leaning back. "Let go."

When I release the crib, it stays upright.

McKenzie gasps. "How'd you do that? Judson tried for thirty minutes before you got here."

"It was five minutes," I protest, even though I am kind of impressed. River was always like that though. Always good with hands, with puzzles and challenges.

The doorbell rings, and McKenzie pushes up from the chair. "That's the pizza. Keep working."

As soon as she disappears down the hallway, I turn back to River. "I missed you."

River's answering smile is shy and sweet. "I missed you too. Now help me get the crib together."

We work in silence for a few minutes, the only sound McKenzie's light laughter as she talks to the pizza delivery guy.

"She sounds happy," River says.

"Yeah." I can't really focus on what my sister sounds like because I'm busy admiring the way River's blue jeans hug his ass as he bends over to slot something into place.

"I feel you staring at me instead of working," River says, the words muffled because he has a screw sticking out of his mouth, held in place with his lips.

"Well, watching you is more entertaining."

He straightens up and glares at me. "We are not doing this in your nephew's nursery."

"It's not like he's living in it yet," I point out and laugh at the scandalized look on his face. "Relax, I'm not serious."

He grunts and points to the changing station box. "Open that and get started. You're going to earn your pizza."

We work for a few hours, and by the time we're done, the nursery is completely furnished and decorated.

"It looks so good in here," McKenzie says, her eyes shining as she moves around the nursery, running her fingers along the rail of the crib. "It looks just like I imagined it would."

"I'm glad you like it," River says, giving her one of his soft smiles. "I can't wait to meet Bryce."

McKenzie places a hand on her belly. "You and me both."

"I should get out of here," River says. "It's getting late."

"I know." She reaches out to hug him as much as her belly will allow. "Thank you so much for coming by to help. It means a lot to me."

"Of course." He kisses her cheek. "Anytime."

"I'll walk you out," I say, following him to the door.

When we step outside, River glances up at the sky, gauging how long he has before the sun starts setting in earnest. I hate that he has to do that. I hate that Ian's the one who committed the crime, but we're the ones stuck paying for it.

"You're such a gentleman, walking me to my car," River teases as I follow him to the driveway.

"I actually just want to get you in the car and wrap my mouth around you again," I reply.

He stumbles a little, and I catch his elbow to help balance him.

"I'm starting to think you're insatiable," he says as we reach his car.

"Only with you." I open the car door for him but stop him before he can climb inside. "I was actually hoping to take you out on a date this weekend."

His eyes light up. "Really?"

"Yeah, I know we kind of skipped ahead to the sex part, but I want to back up and date." I pause before adding, "While keeping the sex thing going, obviously."

"I would love that," he says with a smile. But then the light in his eyes dims, and his face falls. "But I don't go out at night."

"I wouldn't expect you to. You have days off, don't you?"

"Yeah." He chews on his lower lip for a minute. "Are you sure that's okay though?"

"River, I don't care when we go out; I just care that I get to spend time with you." I reach up and run my thumb along his lower lip so he stops chewing it. "We'll do whatever you're comfortable with."

"Okay, then, yeah. Yes, I would love to go out with you."

My chest warms at the happiness in his voice, and I lean forward to press my lips to his for a quick kiss. "Let me know your schedule, and we'll work out a time, okay?"

"Okay." He gives me a shy smile before climbing into his car.

I shut the door after him and back up so he can start the engine and put the car in reverse. Only once he's driven off do I realize how nervous I was to ask him out. We've hung out a lot since I came back to town and spent a good amount of time in his bed together, but we've never been on a date before. We went straight from friends to lovers to strangers. The last one was my fault, but for some reason, River's decided to give me a second chance. And I don't want to do anything to fuck it up.

***

We don't manage to go out on a date until the following Wednesday. Most of my nervousness has dissipated, but I can tell River has some by the shaky smile he gives me from across the restaurant table. He didn't talk much through the meal, but he's loosened up a little now.

Enough that it feels safe to ask, "Why're you so nervous? It's just me."

He scoffs. "Don't act like you weren't nervous too."

I hold my hands up in surrender. "Okay, guilty. But you seem more nervous."

He runs his finger along the table. "It's just been a long time since I've dated. I tried a couple times when I was in college, but…well, it didn't work out. I hadn't really worked through everything, and I didn't like people touching me."

My heart sinks at the pain in his voice. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head and puts on a bracing smile. "It's okay. I'm kind of glad it worked out that way anyway. Maybe I wouldn't have been single now, and we wouldn't be here."

I'm grateful for that, but it's still hard to hear. So many things were stolen from River because of Ian, and this is just one more.

"Don't look so sad," River says, reaching across the table to touch my hand. "I'm happy now, Judson. I really am. And I'm really happy that I'm here with you right now."

The honesty in his voice is the only thing that soothes me. But I try to let go of it. I don't want those memories here.

Instead, I focus on the feel of River's hand against mine, the warmth of his skin. The sparkle in his eye as he talks about one of his young patients drawing him a picture to thank him for saving his life in the ER one night. It's clear River loves what he does.

When we leave the restaurant, River keeps his hand in mine. His fingers are interlocked loosely with mine, as if he's waiting to see if I'll pull away from him. I really don't know how he could think I'd ever pull away from his hold. It's all I wanted for so long.

I pause on the sidewalk and start to lift his hand, to kiss the back of it, but something catches my eye.

There, behind a hot dog stand parked on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street is Ian. Watching us.