Page 101 of Unbound
"Because she's braver than she thinks she is. And because for the first time in her life, she gets to be herself instead of what everyone else wants her to be."
"What about you? Are you going to be okay?"
Jesse turned to look at me, and for the first time in days, his smile reached his eyes. "Yeah. I think I am."
One week after the rescue, Jesse was cleared to leave. He was still weak, still haunted, but alive.
I helped him dress, his hands still shaking too much to manage buttons. When I finished with the last one, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped, staring at his reflection with a mix of shock and sadness.
"I don't recognize myself."
The stranger in the reflection was gaunt, hollow-eyed, carved away by trauma. But he was standing. He was breathing. He was free.
I stepped behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him back against my chest. He melted into the embrace immediately, his head falling back against my shoulder like he'd been waiting for this comfort.
"We'll get you healthy again," I said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. His hair was softer than I remembered, still too thin from malnutrition, but warm under my lips.
"What if I'm always broken now?" His voice was small, vulnerable.
I tightened my arms around him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Then we'll figure out broken together."
Jesse closed his eyes and leaned deeper into my embrace, his body finally relaxing for the first time in days. I could feel the tension leaving his shoulders, the way he seemed to sink into the safety of being held. We stood like that for a long moment, just breathing together, his back pressed against my chest, my chin resting on his shoulder.
"I love you," I murmured against his ear, and felt him shiver—not from fear this time, but from something warmer.
"I love you too," he whispered back, his hands coming up to cover mine where they rested on his stomach.
The wheelchair to the exit was mandatory—Jesse protested vehemently and lost. Montana sun, fresh air, freedom. He breathed deeply for the first time in weeks.
"I never thought I'd get out."
"I never stopped fighting to get you out."
The van was waiting, rented for the long drive home. Montana to Kansas City, taking it slow, stopping whenever Jesse needed. He was going home. To a home with people who'd chosen him.
Not family by blood. Family by choice.
Somewhere in Wyoming, Jesse fell asleep against my shoulder. I watched him sleep, this beautiful boy who'd survived hell, who'd chosen to forgive me anyway, who'd somehow found the strength to keep breathing while he waited for me to save him.
Diana was driving, Rebecca in the front seat. The others were on a plane ahead of us, getting the house ready for our arrival. Everyone was quiet, protective of this fragile peace we'd built.
Jesse stirred in his sleep, murmuring something. I leaned close to hear.
"Home," he whispered.
"Yes, I'm taking you home. We'll be happy together, I promise," I whispered back.
And maybe, finally, we were.
20
JESSE
The van pulled into the familiar driveway as golden afternoon light streamed through the windshield. The old Victorian looked exactly the same—weathered siding, the pride flag hanging in the front window like a beacon—but I felt like I was seeing it through thick glass. Everything seemed muted, distant, like I was watching a movie of someone else's life.
This house where I'd lived for two weeks. Where I'd been happy, for the first time in my life. Where I'd fallen asleep on Adrian's chest and woken up feeling safe. Now it felt like visiting a museum of a person I used to be.
"What if I don't belong here anymore?" I asked suddenly, panic rising in my throat. "What if I'm too broken now?"
