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“ S orry I’m late.” Everly rushes through the door, a large plastic cup in one hand, and a bag of groceries in the other. “I had to rescue a taran—” The word cuts off in a gasp as I close in from behind, slipping a scarf across her eyes.

“Shh…” Wrapping my arms around her, I nip at her earlobe, letting her know she’s safe. “I have a surprise for you.”

While I’d love to play with the adrenaline rush, I don’t want to play with PTSD.

Her body relaxes against mine, warm and pliant. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of the way she hands herself over to me so readily. She’s strong enough to get by on her own—hell, she could probably survive fucking Armageddon at this point—but when I ask her to trust me, she doesn’t hesitate.

No matter what I throw at her.

I plan to explore that with some of the supplies I picked up in town the other day while she was visiting her mother and the woman who owns the strip club. But that’s further down the agenda.

Bending her knees just enough to lower the groceries to the floor, she keeps the cup held out in front of her. “Can you set this somewhere safe?”

“There’s a spider in here, isn’t there?” I take it from her, barely able to make out a large brown lump through the plastic. “Shouldn’t they be hibernating?”

Disoriented from the blindfold, she stays still, giving a slight nod. “An employee at the store I stopped at found her hiding in the stockroom. I thought I’d get her to the sanctuary where she can be released in time for mating season later in the year.”

Shortly after we decided to get out of the city, a great deal came up on some acreage in a rural area in the foothills of Mt. Diablo, also known as a hotspot for tarantulas during the fall. Needless to say, Everly can’t wait for September.

I set the spider on the kitchen counter—because we’re a really strange couple—and return to the girl waiting blindfolded, at my mercy. Taking her hands in mine, I lead her to the wall separating the living and dining areas of the century-old house we closed on two weeks ago. Thick plaster and about fifty coats of paint divide the rooms, and after verifying that it wasn’t load bearing, I decided we didn’t need it. There’s a sledgehammer leaning there, since I’ve been working on renovations while she was gone.

I wanted to wait to do this with her.

“Should I be naked?” she asks, when I have her positioned.

It almost makes me laugh out loud; she knows me too well. And now, the thought of her naked tempts me to abandon my plans. But … “I hate myself a little for saying this, but not just yet. Probably isn’t the safest.”

“Okay…” She draws out the word, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “Should I be worried?”

Situating myself behind her, I wrap one arm around her, pick the sledgehammer up with the opposite hand, and bite down on her shoulder. “What do you think?” When she grins, I kiss the bite marks. “I have something for you to hold. It’s heavy, so be ready.”

She snickers with innuendo.

“You’re worse than I am.” I loosen my grip around her waist long enough to smack her on the ass. Then I reach around her, place the handle in both her hands, and lift the blindfold.

She glances at the hammer, then turns her head to look at me, the question reflected in the downward pull of her eyebrows.

“I think we need a more open floor plan. Want to do some demolition?”

Her face lights up, snapping back to the tool. “Oh, hell yes.”

“That’s my girl.” I back off to the side by several feet, giving her room to wield the hammer. “Have at it.”

Lifting it as high as she can, she pauses, blinks—then takes a Herculean whack at the wall.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

And again .

The wall absorbs her fury with varying cracks, chips, and dents, each swing punctuated by an endearing little growl. It doesn’t take long to realize my mistake: Everly’s determined as hell, but at five foot two and barely over a hundred pounds, she’s not exactly built for busting through reinforced plaster. The house fights back and sweat begins to dot her hairline.

She doesn’t stop. Her expression is a storm of power, anger, and frustration—a relentless fusion that drives her to keep swinging, even as her arms tire and tears threaten. She’s too stubborn to quit, which is exactly why I step in, moving behind her, chest brushing her back. I cover her hands with mine, steadying her grip.

“Mind if I join you?” I whisper against her ear.

Breathing hard, she gives a small nod, fingers tightening around the handle.

I’ve got my own issues with walls.

Together, we hammer, strike, and wail against it, turning dents into holes, then gaps large enough to catch glimpses of the dining room beyond. The air cools, but sweat drips down my back. Everly’s panting, charged with something beyond sheer effort.

It’s a release .

This is what I hoped for. Because while I might be useless at expressing myself in words, I know how to read people— her, most of all. I’ve watched her fingers skim the worn white walls of this place, seen the way her palm lingers there, like she half expects an answer from the other side. Like the surface is both an enemy and a friend.

With a good chunk of the wall gone, I back up and let her decide whether she wants to continue without me. She’s built her own momentum now, and I watch her for a minute as she grunts and growls, gaining a second wind that drives the hammer in harder.

Fuck, that’s sexy.

There’s a case of water bottles sitting on a box in the dining room, so I go to retrieve one for each of us.

While I’m in there, she has a breakthrough.

Literally.

The sledgehammer busts through, followed by a huge chunk of plaster that falls to the floor near my feet, breaking into pieces. Now, there’s a gap about the size of a child.

Almost there.

She keeps at it. The hole becomes larger until it’s big enough to fit through. Cracks, wood splinters, and her growls of effort echo through the space. Any minute now, I expect to see a mane of hair covered in powdery white plaster emerge triumphantly from the hole and join me on the other side.

But those growls have turned into something more. Something heavier.

Her swings slow, her breaths hitch. The sledgehammer slips from her fingers, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. Dust hangs in the air like a cloud, and I look through the opening in the wall in time to see her crumble.

Shit.

I frown, peering through the jagged gap. “Bee?”

Her eyes swim with tears, spilling over to soak the edges of her hair. She stands there, shoulders trembling, her hands pressed to her knees, and she looks up at me like she’s never seen me before.

“Hey,” I whisper from the other side.

She shakes her head. Covers her mouth with her hand.

A sob breaks from her.

I step through the opening without hesitation, closing the distance between us.

Her knees buckle, and I catch her as she sinks into me, her sobs muffled against my chest. I hold her tightly, one arm around her shoulders, the other cradling her head as she finally lets it all out. I feel her chest rise and fall in sharp bursts as the emotions erupt—years of weight she’s carried breaking free like the wall itself.

It kills me to watch, but I know she’s not falling apart.

She’s freeing herself.

Everly looks up as I hold her, a choked sound slipping through her tears. “I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, brushing a strand of plaster-coated hair from her face.

“Like I can breathe again.” Her voice trembles, but there’s something in it—hope seeping through the cracks. More words pour out like a flood, years of silence and captivity spilling from her lips. “I used to sit there,” she chokes out, motioning toward the wall. “Staring at it, dreaming about what was on the other side. Wishing I could just walk through it. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t. ”

I gather her closer, tucking her against my chest. She doesn’t collapse so much as let go, melting into me like she’s finally safe.

Her voice trembles. “And when you were there, when I knew you were in the next room…” She lets out a breathless laugh, shaky and raw. “I wanted to scream . I wanted to tear that whole damn place apart. But I didn’t. I just…sat there. I let him win, day after day, year after year.”

“No,” I say sharply, gripping her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. “You survived. You fought in ways he couldn’t see. You outlasted him, Everly. You’re standing here now because you’re stronger than he ever was.”

Nodding frantically, she clutches the back of my shirt, more laughter bursting from her lips. A smile breaks free like a hard-won victory. “I’ve held on to it all for so long.”

“And now you’re letting it out,” I mumble into her hair. “It’s over.”

Her tears soak my shirt, but I can feel her breathing steady, feel the tension ebbing from her frame. Both arms tighten around me, and she whispers it back, like a promise. “It’s over.”

When she finally pulls away, her face is streaked with tears and dust, but her eyes… They’re alive, shimmering with something fierce and untamed. She swipes at her cheeks and looks back at the gaping hole in the wall.

“I thought breaking it down would be the accomplishment,” she says, her voice soft, steady. “But it’s this. It’s just…this.”

I rest my forehead against hers and smile. “Fuck yes, it is.”

She tilts up and kisses me; deep, hard, and unrelenting. And when she pulls away, her gaze lingers on the wreckage behind us. She stares at it like the wall isn’t just broken—it’s gone.

And in its place, there’s a door.

“What are you thinking for career day?” Sara appears next to me wearing a flannel shirt and rainbow-striped Converse. Ribbons loop in bows at the ends of her braids, the same color as that stupid toy guitar she carries everywhere.

“Nothing.” Snatching the crumpled brochure out of her hands, I plop down on the curb with the comic I just picked up: Batman and Captain America.

My mother laughed at me when she saw the flier I brought home from school.

“She’s wrong, you know. No one can predict what you’ll be in the future. You can do whatever you want.”

I scuff my feet across the pavement. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew where I came from.”

“I do know.” Her fingers strum an off-key chord across the instrument’s plastic strings. “She told me.”

“She told you?” No…she wouldn’t. “You’re nine.”

“She said you’re not really my brother.”

I let the air out of my lungs. “That’s ‘cause I’m not.”

“Then you’re both wrong.”

I go back to reading while Sara pretends to play the guitar, but I can’t focus, and after several minutes, I pick the paper up and glance at it. “There’s nothing on this list I’d want to do, anyway. Might as well forget it.”

“You know what I think.” She nods at the comic book draped across my lap.

“Superhero isn’t a real career.” I roll my eyes.

“What about a police officer? You could still catch the bad guys.”

A humorless laugh bursts out of me. “Cops would hate me.”

“Why?”

“Because my father’s in prison. There’s probably some kind of background check.”

“Oh.” She plucks one string on the guitar, over and over, until it finally snaps, smacking her in the face. “Shit.”

Her eyes go wide, and she looks at me in horror. We burst out laughing.

The energy shifts when a line of bicycles passes in front of us—a group of kids she knows from school, calling to her to come to the playground. She waves, getting up to follow.

But at the last second, she freezes. Whirls.

“A private investigator! That’s what you should be. You could solve mysteries. That wouldn’t require a background check.” Then she grins. “But if you ever need a sidekick, you know where to find me.”

There’s a flurry of activity in the branches of the aspen tree in front of the house. I’ve been sent out here to make sure Mr. Binkers isn’t harassing the birds Everly saw building a nest earlier.

It might have also been because I couldn’t keep my hands off her while she was cooking.

Nearby, some wildflowers sway with the breeze. I walk over and pull one—a single, long stem topped with a cluster of purple flowers heavy enough to make it droop. Everly would probably like these.

Wait… What the hell is happening to me?

I drop the flower.

Then I think of her smile, and I pick it back up, along with five more.

Another barrage of chatter erupts from above. The black cat we brought with us has definitely caused a stir among the local wildlife, but his attention is on something much bigger: several horses from the neighboring ranch, grazing casually in our yard, like they don’t give a shit about the concept of boundaries.

Honestly, they were part of what attracted us to the place.

Binkers stares at the enormous animals for a minute, then turns to me and blinks: The fuck is this?

I shrug. “You’ll get used to them, Binks.”

As he saunters past the unhappy tree dwellers, a bright, jewel-blue head pops out of a hollow in the trunk.

She didn’t tell me there were bluebirds.

“Oh, blue dicks.”

I look up at the sound of Everly’s voice. She’s radiant; flushed from the heat of the stove, wiping her hands on her spring dress, her purse draped over one shoulder.

“Uh…what?” Did she say dicks?

She nods at the flowers in my hands, laughing lightly. “That’s actually what they’re called.”

“Ah.” Clearing my throat, I hold the handful out, passing them to her. “Thought they might look nice on the counter, next to your spider.”

She gives me a mock gasp, but the way her smile glows makes my heart beat a little differently. “Isaac Porter, are you giving me flowers ?”

“Don’t make a big deal about it.” I chuckle. “It does figure I’d pick something called blue dicks.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, looking up at me through a fringe of eyelashes as she holds them under her nose. “Thank you,” she whispers.

It makes me wonder why I thought giving a woman flowers would be so terrible. I can’t remember now.

She tucks the flowers into the top of her purse, so the heads stick out, and loops a finger through her ring of keys. “I’ve got the chicken and vegetables together, but I got so distracted by the tarantula, I forgot the pie crust. I’m going to run out really quick. Do you mind stirring the pot on the stove occasionally?”

“Sure, I’ll head inside in a few minutes. Just enjoying the air.”

She hums a satisfied sound, her gaze panning across the field, from the invading horses to the swathe of wildflowers, and over at the birds. The empathy in her eyes tells me she knows what I’m thinking. Her mouth curves up on one side. “She’d love it here, I bet.”

“Yeah.” The word gets stuck in my throat.

It’s something I think about sometimes—what it would be like if my sister were here to see my life now. Because the truth is, if she’d never been taken, I wouldn’t have ended up in that room on the other side of the wall from the woman I share my life with now. I wouldn’t have been able to destroy the vilest evil I’ve personally encountered, with my bare hands and a piece of broken glass.

One action started a domino effect that couldn’t be taken back, and it changed everything. But no matter the good that came out of it, she’s still gone.

I’m not sure I’ll ever say all that out loud. I don’t think I need to.

The male bluebird serenades us, cocking his head at the female as she works on their nest.

Warm arms wrap around me from behind, a soft body pressed to my back. “She’d be proud of you.”

I nod slightly.

Without my sister’s loss, how many other lives would have been taken? How many families would be missing someone?

You were never my sidekick, Sara. You were the catalyst.

“I won’t be long,” she says softly, standing on her toes to kiss me on the cheek. Her hands drag down my arms, threading through my fingers for a minute, before they drop. “See you soon.”

As she walks to the Jeep, the female bluebird takes off from the hollow, zipping ahead of her in a sky-hued blur.

Everly starts the vehicle, rolling the windows down to give me a wave. The stereo kicks on, playing a cover of the song she’s had on loop—fitting, given our four-legged neighbors who seem to prefer grazing in our field over their own.

The lyrics reach me, a reminder that the people who truly love you won’t leave. Not for being broken, and not for being bitter. Nothing will drag them away.

Not even when it seems like they’re gone.

As the male bluebird follows his mate, I watch the woman I love pull down our long gravel driveway, raced by a gold palomino with a cream-colored mane.

My whisper is lost in the wind.

“See you soon.”