Zoe
The sun comes through the windows of Liam's apartment, warm and golden, and I wake up in his bed with his arm around my waist and his breath against my neck. For a moment I do not remember where I am, do not remember that the war is over, do not remember anything except the warmth of him, the weight of him, the way he held me all night like he was afraid I would disappear. Then I open my eyes and I see the city spread out below us, the buildings rising and falling, the river winding through the streets like a ribbon of light, and I remember everything.
I remember Evelyn Cole's face when they put her in the police car. I remember my mother's smile when we walked into her room. I remember Liam's voice when he said I am not going anywhere. I turn in his arms and I look at his face, soft in sleep, the hard lines relaxed, the shadows under his eyes lighter than they were before. He looks younger like this, less like the man who walked into his office with cold eyes and a colder voice, more like the man he might have been if his father had not died.
His eyes open, dark and warm, and he looks at me and he smiles, a real smile, the kind that makes my chest tight and my heart race. "Good morning," he says, and his voice is rough, sleepy, and I want to stay here forever, in this bed, in this moment, with this man.
"Good morning," I say, and I reach up and I touch his face, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheek, the soft skin beneath his eyes. "Did you sleep?"
"Some," he says, and he pulls me closer, his hand sliding up my back, his fingers tracing circles on my skin. "I was watching you. I did not want to miss a moment."
I laugh, soft and quiet, and I feel something open in my chest, something that has been closed for so long I forgot it was there. "You are ridiculous," I say, and he laughs too, and the sound fills the room, warm and bright, and I realize that I have never heard him laugh before, not really, not like this.
"Maybe," he says, and he leans in and he kisses me, soft and slow, and I feel the world fall away, the fear, the grief, the weight of everything we have survived, all of it disappearing until there is nothing but his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, his heart beating against my chest.
We stay in bed for a long time, talking and laughing and holding each other, and I tell him about my mother, about the way she used to sing in the kitchen, about the way she worked until her hands bled and never complained, about the way she held me when my father left and told me that we did not need him, that we had each other, that we would be fine. He tells me about his father, about the way he taught him to fish, about the way he stayed up late helping him with his homework, about the way he looked at his mother like she was the only thing in the room.
"I miss him," Liam says, and his voice is quiet, and I see the grief in his eyes, the same grief I feel when I think about the years I lost with my mother, the years I spent working and worrying and trying to survive. "I miss him every day."
I take his hand and I hold it, and I look at him, at the man who has been carrying this weight for two years, at the man who is finally learning to put it down. "He would be proud of you," I say, and I mean it, I mean it with my whole chest. "He would be so proud of the man you have become."
He looks at me, and I see the tears in his eyes, the same tears I feel in my own, and he pulls me against him and he holds me, and we lie there in the morning light with the city spread out below us and the future stretching out before us, and I know that we are going to be okay, that we are going to figure this out, that we are going to build something beautiful from the ashes of the war we have survived.
We go to see my mother in the afternoon, and she is sitting up in bed, her color better, her eyes brighter, her hands steady on the blanket. She smiles when she sees us, and I see the recognition in her eyes, the understanding, the love. "You look happy," she says, and she looks at Liam, at the way his hand rests on my back, at the way I lean into him like he is the only thing holding me up. "Both of you."
"We are," I say, and I sit on the edge of her bed and I take her hand, and I feel the warmth of her, the strength of her, the love that has been holding me together for years. "It is over, Mama. She is gone. She is not going to hurt anyone ever again."
My mother looks at Liam, and she smiles, and I see the gratitude in her eyes, the same gratitude I feel in my chest. "Thank you," she says, and her voice is steady, strong, the voice of a woman who has survived so much and is finally learning to rest. "Thank you for saving my daughter."
Liam shakes his head, and he kneels beside the bed, and he takes her other hand, and I see the tears in his eyes, the same tears I feel in my own. "She saved herself," he says, and his voice is rough, the control slipping. "I just gave her a place to stand."
My mother looks at me, and she smiles, and I see the pride in her eyes, the same pride I have been trying to earn my whole life. "I always knew you were strong," she says, and her voice is soft, warm, the voice of a woman who has seen her child grow into someone extraordinary. "I always knew you would find your way."
I lean down and I kiss her forehead, and I feel the tears on my cheeks, and I do not wipe them away, because they are not tears of sadness, they are tears of relief, of joy, of the overwhelming weight of everything we have survived and everything we have yet to become.