Page 107 of The Edge Of Us

Jasper smiled softly, his hand resting on Kyle’s shoulder. “He’s getting better. He’ll be back before you know it. And until then, you’ve got Astrid and Mommy to take care of, and we’ll be okay.”

Kyle nodded slowly, as if trying to understand, as if Jasper’s words had managed to make things a little clearer. He lookedat me, his face softening, and I could see the small weight he carried beginning to lift just a little.

“I’m not alone, am I, Mom?” he asked quietly, looking up at me with wide, trusting eyes.

“No, baby, you’re not alone,” I whispered, holding him tight. “You’re never alone.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed those words, because in that moment, I realized that no matter how broken we were, no matter how hard things got, we had each other. That was enough.

Chapter 59

Corine

It had been exactly a year since Allen was admitted to the facility. A year of silence, uncertainty, slow healing. And today, the call came.

My lawyer's voice was calm but edged with something close to finality. "The judge has signed off on his release," she said. "Allen is considered fit to reintegrate. He'll still be required to continue outpatient therapy, but... he's coming home today."

Home.

The word didn't feel right. Not anymore. Not for me.

But I knew it did for him.

And regardless of where we stood now, Allen had been part of my story. My pain. My joy. My children's father. That meant something, even if everything else had unraveled.

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting Astrid's curls as she squirmed and whined. "Mommy! It's too tight."

"It's just a ribbon, love. Hold still."

Kyle came in dressed in the blue polo shirt Jasper picked out earlier in the week. He looked so grown-up, his shoes polished, hair neatly combed. He held a card in his hand.

"I made this for Daddy," he said quietly. "Do you think he'll cry?"

I paused. Swallowed. "Maybe. But it'll be happy tears."

Jasper walked in then, holding a small thermos. "For the road. Hot cocoa. I added those marshmallows Astrid likes."

I took it, forcing a grateful smile.

"You sure you don't want to come?" I asked him.

He shook his head gently. "This is about you and Allen. I know my place. I'll be here when you get back."

I nodded, heart aching with love for this man who understood the tangled pieces of me and never tried to rip them apart.

The drive was quiet. The kids were unusually subdued. Kyle clutched his card like it held the weight of the world. Astrid, now three and a half, stared out the window, humming something under her breath.

I had never been to the reception area before. Allen and I had only spoken through letters for the first six months, then phone calls. It was better that way.

Now, I stood with my children in a sterile waiting room with muted beige chairs and a clock that ticked too loudly. My heartthudded with a confusing mix of emotions-nervousness, grief, gratitude.

The double doors opened.

He walked out slowly, still lean but a little more fragile. His hair was longer, unkempt, his eyes wide and scanning until they landed on Kyle.

"Daddy!" Kyle shouted.

Astrid echoed, "DADDY!"

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