Daniel lets go of her hand and stands up, turning away from her. He starts pacing and tugs on a few strands of his hair.

“Danny . . .”

He spins. His face is red, and his voice rises as he says, “He told me he was forced to hurt you, but he refused to give any details. Just that it was the best thing for you, the only thing really, and that I needed to come soon because he wouldn’t have much time. He said he was too easy on you but he was under so much—” he shouts, and his face drains of color. “I can’t believe . . .”

“Daniel, come here,” Lynell says, holding her hand out.

He hesitates for a moment before walking over. “I’m so sorry.”

She nods, and he leans down to kiss her forehead. “It’s okay. He saved me . . . you saved me from something much worse.”

Daniel rests his head against the edge of the couch. Lynell runs her right hand through his hair.

“Make sure everything is cleaned and dressed so nothing gets infected. Then I’ll be okay, Danny. I will.”

He raises his head and nods at her. His voice shakes when he says, “You always are.” He slides his fingers between hers. “If there’s anything you know how to do, it’s surviving.”

She smiles and keeps her response locked away in her mind. Surviving isn’t living. No one can simply survive forever.

“You need to rest,” Daniel says.

Lynell vaguely feels herself nod. “My old bedroom . . .” She wonders if Alan ever changed it. Daniel scoops her up and follows her directions down the hallway. The bedroom is smaller than she remembers, and while the bones are the same, with the full-sized bed in the corner and the pink dresser missing one drawer on the other side, it’s different. The walls are now baby blue instead of cream, and the small desk her mom found on the curb outside one of the nice houses a few neighborhoods over is no longer next to the door. Instead, there’s a crib with several stuffed animals lined up in it. Maybe it belongs to Alan’s future stepdaughters. If so, they already have more toys in this house than Lynell ever had.

Daniel pulls back the covers of the bed and gently places her down. “I’ll go get water.” He’s not gone long and when he returns, she drinks half the cup of water before setting it on the bedside table. “I’ll be sure to wake you up in a few hours when you can take more painkillers,” he says, as she lies down, pulling up the blanket.

The bed is far more comfortable than she remembers. Her consciousness starts slipping away, but she pulls her eyes open to look at Daniel. “Don’t leave me,” she says.

Daniel smiles and climbs in bed next to her, holding her close. He kisses the side of her head. “Never.”