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We sit there, side by side, her presence slowly chipping away at the suffocating weight in my chest. The clawing pressure eases, bit by bit, like my lungs remember how to expand.

Then her voice comes quieter. “It sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Grief.”

I go still.

She doesn’t look at me. She just stares out into the backyard, her dark waves stirring slightly in the breeze. “It doesn’t care what day it is or how long it’s been. It doesn’t show up with a warning or ask if you’ve got time for it.”

That part I know all too well.

“It’s not linear,” she continues. “Those stages they talk about? Total bullshit. It’s all just a jumbled mess of laughing when you’re supposed to cry, crying when you thought you were fine, then panicking out of nowhere at your own birthday party.”

I look down at my hands, steady now.

“It’s okay, though,” she adds.

I finally look at her. Her eyes are soft. Knowing. Not pitying, but solid. Like she’s someone who gets it.

“Is it?” I ask.

She nods slowly. “The one predictable thing about grief is that it always comes back, but it never stays forever.”

Who is this woman?

She sees through me too easily. Pulls the pieces I keep locked up and just holds them.

She tilts her head to look at me then, and I knowthat mischievous glint in her eyes. “But what do I know? I’m just the hot nanny.”

Julian and his big fucking mouth.

I rest my head in my hands. “You heard that, huh?”

“I’ve been waiting to use it for weeks. I’m printing it and putting it on my wall.”

“You should put it in your resume.”

Her laugh coats over me. “You’re lucky to have those guys in there.”

“They’re a pain in my ass most days, but they always show up.” I inhale a steadying breath, relief washing over me when my lungs burn a little less. “After Amber and Mike died, they dropped everything. Stayed with me for weeks. Took shifts with Rosie. Cooked meals that were inedible. But they were here.”

Lena smiles at that. “I can imagine it. Must’ve been…sad and loud.”

“And drunk.”

Her shoulder brushes against mine. “You’ve got good friends.”

“You do too.”

Right?

Fuck, Wes, you’ve got to open your mouth and ask her this shit.

She shakes her head, no hesitation. “Nope. People exhaust me. My friends are Grandpa and Rosie.”

I rest a hand on my chest. “Hey, now.”