Becks laughed. Some of the tension in my shoulders slipped away. I’d done a terrible thing to her, but I didn’t mean to, and the tone of her laughter told me that maybe—despite everything—we could manage to be okay again. She was right; we’d never be exactly the same kind of okay that we were before. But we’d be more okay, and that was better than nothing.

Violence isn’t the only solution, George said. She sounded as relieved as I felt.

“Sometimes it’s the most fun one,” I answered, without thinking about it. Becks stopped laughing. I tensed, looking away from the sky and back to her as I waited for us to start arguing again.

Instead, she just looked at me. Her eyes were hazel. I’d never noticed that before—not really. That made me feel even worse about what we’d done. I should never have slept with her if I couldn’t even remember the color of her eyes. “You’re pretty lucky, you know,” she said.

I blinked at her. “What?”

“Most people, we lose the people that we love, and they’re just gone. We don’t get to have them anymore. But you…” She raised a hand, brushing her fingertips across my forehead. Her skin was cool. “She’s always going to be there for you, isn’t she? As long as you live.”

“I don’t know how to live in a world that doesn’t have her in it,” I said. My voice came out raw with a longing that surprised me. I never start thinking I’m getting over losing her. It still startles me sometimes, when I realize just how damn much I miss her.

“Here’s hoping you never have to.” Becks stood. “We’re okay, Shaun. Or at least, I’m okay, and I’d like you to be okay with me.”

I nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Maggie that we talked things through.” She hesitated, and then added, “Keep the guest room. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.” She shoved her hands into her pockets and walked away before I could say anything, footsteps plodding heavily on the damp garden earth. I watched her go, and then sagged back into the bench, closing my eyes.

“When do things get to be simple again, George?” I whispered. “Ever?”

They weren’t simple to begin with, she said.

I didn’t have a comeback for that, and so I just sat in the sunlight in the garden and breathed in the smell of rain-soaked grass, waiting for the world to slow down. Just a little bit. Just long enough to let us rest before the next storm came crashing through. Was that really so much to ask? I just wanted to rest.

Just for a little while.