Page 54 of Venus
“I keep seeing it.” My voice cracks. “The smoke. The beam. His face. The way he reached for me and the moment he realized I wasn’t strong enough to get him out.”
“You did everything you could, Carter.”
“Yeah, everyone keeps saying that, but why does it feel like I didn’t?”
She stands up then, and hugs my head into her stomach, stroking my hair while I breathe in the comfort of her scent mixed with rain. “Because grief doesn’t operate on logic. It just…wrecks you. Unexpectedly. Unfairly. But it doesn’t mean you didn’t try your best. There’s not a damn soul in this town that believes you would have left him behind. You almost died because yourefusedto leave him. And before you ask, I can’t answerwhy you lived and he didn’t, but I do know that the Carter Westwood I love would never leave his brothers behind.”
‘The Carter Westwood I love.’
Yeah, that breaks me. Completely. And she holds me through all of it.
“I don’t know how to live in a world where he’s not in it,” I whisper into her stomach.
“One step at a time,” she whispers. “One breath at a time.”
She’s not fixing it. She’s not even trying to. She’s just…here. Solid. Quiet.
Mine.
I pull back just enough to look up at her, and I know in this moment, that if I didn’t have her, I’d be beyond saving right now.
“I’m a mess, V.”
“So am I,” she says. “But we’ll just have to learn to clean each other up together. Deal?”
I nod. “Deal.”
She leans down and kisses me on the forehead. Not because either of us expect it to fix anything or make me feel better right now, but because it reminds us both that no matter what comes next, we have each other.
Outside, the sky finally clears, letting a bright beam of sunlight light up the town.
The world and life moves on.
And I will too.
One breath at a time.
Epilogue | Vulcan
The shelter smells like wet dog, bleach, and pet food. Like hope and heartbreak all in one.
Dogs are barking from every direction. Some are bouncing off the walls from the sight of visitors. Others are tucked tightly into the corners of their little cages, their big wet eyes screaming terror. Some are cautiously approaching the steel doors to see what the commotion is about, defeated but hopeful.
I’ve got one arm thrown casually over Victoria’s shoulder, both of us stopped in our tracks, staring through the bars of a kennel marked with a bright orange laminated sign:
Bonded Pair. Must Be Adopted Together. Bad With Children.
Inside, two pit bulls sit curled up like two halves of the same heart. Like if one moves, the other will move with them.
The bigger of the two, a male, tan in color, looks back at us with wide eyes and a heavy thump of the tail. His tongue lolls out like he’s waiting to be called a ‘good boy’. The other, a smaller, steel-grey female stayscautiously pressed against her brother, tail tucked in tightly next to her chunky body.
“They’ve been here a while,” the animal shelter worker says. “It’s hard enough finding someone willing to adopt one pit, but two? They’re the sweetest babies in this shelter, though, and very loyal.”
“They’re perfect,” I say. I look down at V, who has loosened herself from my grip and is squatting by the cage, beckoning the larger one over. He happily wags his tail but positions himself protectively between her and his sister. He pokes his nose through the bars and gives Victoria a sniff and a lick before going wild in the cage, jumping and wagging and barking. His excitement causes his sister to raise her head, and ever so cautiously, she gets closer and closer. At her own pace, she carefully sniffs the both of us, and then she sits.
Just sits. No indication of any excitement, but it's a very small sign of trust, and we couldn’t ask for anything more.
V has a soft look in her eyes, tears filling her vision as she stares at the two pits, and her smile tells me everything I need to know.
