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"My sweet," she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're so pretty." Her declaration seemed to come from nowhere and it made my cheeks warm under the compliment. "Remember when we were on that hike together and I had to wrestle with you about eating half of my sandwich?"

I chuckled, nodding with it. "I do."

"You were so scared to accept it. Then you just…" Her smile broadened, her gaze shimmering with the memory. "Plucked some bread off and fed it to those birds. They came over to you like you were Snow White dancing in the woods. Like they knew they could trust you."

"Then I got angry and spoiled everything," I said, biting my lip for a second. "Because you liked me."

"I did like you. At first because you were cute and so gentle. Then because underneath that, you have this fiery spark." She met my gaze and stroked my cheek. "The way you told us off. Asserted yourself. And how, despite the way the world treated you, how tiny you are, and delicate at times, when it matters to you, you speak up." She drew in a deep breath. "It was the first thing that made me think I could trust you. Because people with fire like that don't lie."

"I don't lie… Unless it's like keeping a surprise birthday party a secret or something."

"I know. And you care about people so much. Rebecca and your family. Alex. Ainsley and Jordan. And they care about you just as much."

"People care about you, too, Sam. Me and Stella. Alice, Ainsley. Marita." I stroked the space between her breasts while she listened to me. "Sometimes you keep them at arm’s length because being cared about scares you."

She didn't say anything to that, and I noticed that her gut tightened against my arm. Her lips faded to a thin line as she held down whatever emotion my declaration caused. I let her have the silence while we listened to the rain.

The temperature in the room dropped as the night wore on and finally, Sam drew in a soft breath before she said, "Everything I've ever cared about left me."

I met her gaze again, my brow furrowed as I listened.

"My ex-husband. Our mutual married friends. Then my father died. My family. My mother. My religion." She blinked away the tears that dampened her cheeks. "My sense of safety." Her chest lifted with slow, heavy breaths as she stared at the ceiling. "Sometimes, Rosie, I close my eyes at night and I fantasize about what it would've been like if I could've fought back. If I wasn't wearing that scarf that they weaponized as much as the guns they pressed to my body. Sometimes I think about never having escaped that alley and aching for the gun to go off against my head. That it would've been better if I didn't survive."

Her words broke my heart with their flagrant honesty and absolute pain. I shared many of those thoughts over the years, but couldn't imagine my life without having the love of my foster family and friends.

"And then I confided in Marita. She stood by me, helped me, listened to me. Became my only friend. But I just couldn't stay still. I had to leave her before she left me, like everyone and everything else. So I started changing hospitals and jobs and places to live. I did a lot of rotations at U.W. and then met Stella. She's an amazing surgeon and a gifted physician. She was everything I wanted to be. We worked together to save Alice when I barely even knew her." She paused, and a small smile brightened her sadness. I brushed the tears from her cheeks, and kissed her chin. "And her gratitude for the help. The way she trusted me so easily. And whenever I was on rotation at her hospital, we would spend a little time together. Over the years, I looked forward to it. Knowing she had the life she did, gave me some sort of sense of something. I don't know. That not everything was bad."

"Sounds a little bit like hope, honey," I said, and she ran her fingers through my hair.

"Yeah. Maybe." She sniffled, and met my gaze again. "I waited for her to stop talking to me. Stop seeking me out. Stop wanting to share meal breaks together. It went on for years until she planted the seed for me to move to Seattle. That she could get me a full-time position at U.W. The idea of staying still…" She shook her head. "I couldn't do it. I just...I couldn't."

"Why did you decide to finally stay?"

"I got tired. I'm so tired." She covered her face with her hands. "My mother is getting older. Eventually I will have to take care of her. She moved from Spokane to be closer to her family here. My uncles. Cousins. Her Muslim friends. She had a community in Spokane but after the terror attack, a lot of them left. So she came here."

"Do you see any of them?"

"No."

"Tell me why?"

She laughed, though not out of humor. "My mother's family is all from Syria or Iran. Do you know what they do to gay people there?"

I shook my head, biting my bottom lip when a surge of fear struck me. "Not specifics."

"Don't ever look it up." She placed her palm against my cheek and the gesture calmed me. "Some of her family still feel that way. Especially the older generation, and most of them are in their eighties."

"I'm sorry, Sam. That you have to face that."

"Most of them don't know that I'm gay. I stay away from them." She choked on her breath and I dabbed at her cheeks again. "I stay away from everyone."

"Not me…" I tapped my finger against her lip.

"Never you…" She kissed my finger. "Rosie, part of me waits for you to walk away from me, too. You have your own life. Your own pain."

"Samirah." I leaned up on my elbows so that I could look at her properly. "I've lived my entire life just trying to manage myself. An anxious mess that the world tossed aside save for Rebecca. On some days, if it wasn't for her bringing me groceries or driving me to work, I wouldn't have eaten or left the house. Then one day this beautiful, bold, sexy woman waltzes into my life and makes me pay attention. First, she made me angry because I thought she wanted something from me when I had nothing to give. Then she pursued me. You chased me, in a good way. You made me feel wanted and desired. And I know that it might sound unhealthy or just, I don't know, twisted, but knowing that you have your own struggles made me feel like we both shared each other's burdens. Like you help me carry a little of mine and I help you carry a little of yours. I found myself able to do more, less anxious, and caring more. Everything in my life has seemed lighter and brighter with you in it."

She choked on a sobbed and brought both hands up to cover her face when she cried. I kissed her elbows and forearms over and over until she released herself to touch me again. Whatever I said, whatever proclamation hit home for her, it was like I sent a bomb-wielding arrow into the walls of her dam. I hugged her and she squeezed me to her as we melted together in a puddle of soggy emotions.