Sarah's voice cuts through the tension before it can strangle me.
"Bear's fine." She holds up both hands, reading the panic I couldn't hide fast enough. "Better than fine, actually. The infection cleared completely. He's outside right now terrorizing the chickens like nothing ever happened."
The relief hits me so hard I nearly laugh. My grip on the table edge loosens, blood rushing back into my knuckles.
"Thank God." Jake exhales beside me, and I hear everything in those two words—the worry he's been carrying, the love he has for that ridiculous dog, the same terror I felt moments ago dissolving into gratitude.
Tommy grins across the table. "Called it. That dog's too stubborn to stay sick."
"He ate three bowls of food this morning." Sarah shakes her head, smiling. "Nearly knocked over my assistant trying to get outside. I'd say he's made a full recovery."
The kitchen feels lighter suddenly. Paige laughs at something Tommy whispers. Even Violet's expression softens slightly, though she's pretending not to care.
Sarah's attention shifts to me, and her smile warms into something more personal. "Adison. I didn't realize you were visiting." She crosses the kitchen, pulling me into a brief hug. "It's good to see you. Though you look like you could use some fresh air."
The observation lands too close to truth. The food smells are still churning my stomach, and escape sounds like the best offer I've had all day.
"Would you sit with me on the terrace?" Sarah gestures toward the back door. "I'd love to catch up. If you can spare a few minutes."
"I'd like that." I push back from the table, grateful for the excuse. "Save me some rice?"
No one responds, but I'm already following Sarah outside, leaving the nauseating mixture of soy sauce and fried food behind.
The evening air hits my lungs like medicine. Cool. Clean. Nothing competing for space except the distant sound of chickens complaining about something.
Bear.
He spots me before I can call his name. That massive golden shape tears across the yard with the single-minded determination of a freight train made of fur and joy.
I drop to my knees.
He crashes into me with enough force to knock me backward, his tongue everywhere at once—my face, my neck, my hands. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his fur, breathing in the smell of dog and dirt and something that feels impossibly like home.
"Hey, boy." My voice cracks on the words. "Hey. I missed you too."
Bear whines and presses closer, his whole body wiggling with enthusiasm. Like he's trying to climb inside my embrace. Like he's been waiting for this moment as long as I have.
I hold on tighter than I should. Let myself feel something uncomplicated for the first time in weeks.
Sarah gives us a moment before settling into one of the terrace chairs. Her silence carries patience, and I appreciate her for not rushing me.
Eventually, Bear calms enough to sit beside me, his massive head resting against my thigh. I scratch behind his ears and pretend I'm not still fighting tears.
"How are you really doing?" Sarah's voice is gentle. Direct. "And I'm not asking about the surface things."
I meet her eyes, weighing how much truth I can afford. "I'm surviving. Which is about all I can manage right now."
"I never expected Jake to come back alone." Sarah folds her hands in her lap, her expression careful. "After everything that happened in Manhattan. After the way he talked about you." She pauses, something sad crossing her features. "He was so broken when he returned. Wouldn't talk to anyone about what happened. Just threw himself into work like he was trying to outrun something."
The description cuts deeper than I want it to. "How long has he been like that?"
"A couple of weeks of complete silence." Sarah shakes her head slowly. "Tommy tried. I tried. Nothing got through. It was like watching someone disappear inside themselves."
My throat tightens. All those days I spent convincing myself I was doing the right thing. All those silent nights when I could have called. Could have fought.
"Everything got complicated." The simplified truth scrapes past the guilt lodged in my chest. "He was suffocating in Manhattan. The scrutiny. The expectations. Everything I represented." I stroke Bear's fur without really seeing him. "I thought sending him away was protecting both of us."
"And now?"
"Now I'm here." The words feel inadequate. "Trying to sort through the wreckage."
Sarah studies me with clinical attention, and I recognize the look—professional assessment masquerading as casual observation. Her eyes linger on the shadows under my own, on the pallor I can't quite hide.
"You don't look well." She says it matter-of-factly. "Have you seen a doctor recently?"
I force a laugh. "Manhattan offices and too much overwork. Nothing a few days of Texas air won't fix."
Sarah accepts the answer without believing it. I can see the doubt in her expression, the questions she's choosing not to ask.
"Can I give you some advice?" She waits for my nod before continuing. "Be honest with Jake. Whatever happened between you, whatever you're carrying—he deserves to know the truth."
My hand stills on Bear's head. "It's not that simple."
"It rarely is." Sarah's smile is kind. Understanding. "But Jake Sullivan is one of the most forgiving people I've ever met. He'll understand more than you think. He just needs you to trust him with it."
The words settle into my chest like something heavy. Trust. Such a small word for such an enormous ask.
Sarah stands, brushing off her jeans. "I should get back to the clinic. But Adison—whatever's going on, you don't have to carry it alone."
"Thank you." I mean it more than I can express.
She squeezes my shoulder once, then disappears around the side of the house. I listen to her truck start and pull away, leaving me alone with Bear and the weight of her advice.
The kitchen door bangs open.
Tommy spills onto the terrace first, followed by Paige and Jake. Violet trails behind them, her expression suggesting she's been dragged against her will.
"There he is!" Tommy drops to Bear's level, ruffling his ears with enthusiastic affection. "Good boy. Good, healthy boy."
Bear's tail wags hard enough to create a breeze, but his attention has already shifted. He lunges toward Violet before anyone can stop him.
"Oh my God, no—" Violet barely gets the words out before Bear's tongue covers half her face. "This is disgusting. This is absolutely—stop it—"
But she doesn't push him away.
Her hands come up to his neck, and despite her protests, she's laughing. Actually laughing—real and surprised and completely unguarded. Bear licks her chin, her cheek, her forehead, and she squeals about hygiene and germs and irreparable damage to her skincare routine.
None of it stops her from scratching behind his ears.
I watch the unexpected softness break through her armor. The genuine delight flickering behind the performance she wears like protection. For one brief moment, she looks like an actual nineteen-year-old instead of the calculating predator she pretends to be.
Perhaps there's something redeemable in her after all.
Though it won't save her soul from burning if she touches Jake again.