Think this belongs to you #3
“That roof was compromised from the beginning.”
She shakes her head. “You almost—”
“I didn’t.”
“You could have.”
“And I would still go in,” I snap. “Every time.”
“You could’ve died, too.” She turns toward me fully now, eyes bright and wrecked and honest in a way that feels almost unbearable. “And the worst part is I knew, lying in that hospital room, that if I ever tried to leave you to keep you safe from me, it would destroy me anyway.”
Emotion swells low and fierce through me at the confession, hot enough it hurts. “Penny.”
“I love you so much,” she says brokenly. “I love you so much it feels impossible sometimes. You and Elle are something I can’t survive losing now, and that terrifies me more than the fire did.”
“The fire wasn’t you,” I say, lower but no less certain. “Stacey wasn’t you. Addiction wasn’t you. I went into the tower because I wanted to, because that’s what I do.”
“And I ruin things—that’s what I do. I’m the common denominator.”
I stare at her for a long second while the lake moves in front of us, then I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet.
Her brows pull together slightly as I open it and slide my thumb behind the folded cash until I find the coin tucked safely underneath.
“This?” I hold it up between us. “This is also a common denominator.”
The coin catches sunlight when I hold it out to place into her palm, and Penny goes completely still as she holds it.
“I’ve carried this since the day we met,” I tell her.
Her eyes snap to mine. “You what?”
“You told me your dad used to say, ‘Find my Penny, pick her up, all day long I’ll have good luck.’”
She stares down at the coin, and her eyes fill as I continue.
“I kept it.”
A tear spills free before she can stop it.
“Because he was right,” I husk. “Because some of the best things that have ever happened to me started the day I found mine.”
More tears slide down her cheeks as she looks back up at me, and I reach out to thumb them away.
“My common denominator?” I use my free hand to close her fingers gently around the coin. “That’s you, baby. My Lucky Penny. The thing I was lucky enough to find and never stopped carrying.”
Her face crumples completely, and I shift closer.
“Evan…”
“You think you bring collapse or ruin with you, and that is the most fucking absurd thing I’ve ever heard.” My thumb brushes just under her eye again. “You don’t, baby. You bring warmth. You bring noise and color and extra penguin facts and coffee that’s actually drinkable.”
A watery laugh breaks from her.
“The world’s heavy enough on its own,” I murmur, my forehead settling gently against hers. “But Penny, look at my life. Look at Elle’s life. You made this place feel alive again.”
The wind moves around us softly, carrying the scent of lake water and pine and summer grass. Her hands slide up to grip the front of my shirt.
“I’m sorry I got scared of this.”
“You don’t have to be.”
Her eyes lift back to mine.
“We lost Colt,” I say quietly, because there’s no point pretending otherwise. “And that’s still gonna hurt tomorrow. And next week, and years from now.” I swallow. “But loving you isn’t the thing that hurts me, Pen.”
A tear slips over her mouth this time, and I kiss it away before I can stop myself.
“I love you,” I tell her finally. “Not because I almost lost you. Not because Elle loves you or because you fit into this life so easily.” I brush my nose gently against hers. “I love you because somewhere along the way, you became my favorite part.”
A sound leaves her halfway between a laugh and a sob before she surges forward into me, arms wrapping hard around my neck as I pull her into my lap.
The force of it nearly knocks me backward into the grass, but I hold onto her anyway, burying my face against her hair while she shakes with quiet crying.
“I love you too,” she whispers against my the side of my throat. “I love you so much.”
I close my eyes and hold her tighter. The lake water keeps moving softly against the shoreline, and the wind bends through the trees overhead. Somewhere far across the water, someone’s dog barks before the sound disappears again.
Life continuing. Grief and love sitting side by side inside it.
After a while, Penny shifts enough to look down at the pebbles scattered around us, then reaches for the one near her knee.
“This is the one,” she says thickly.
I huff out a quiet laugh. “It’s the perfect fit.”
She places it carefully into my palm, and an aching warmth spreads slowly through me as I curl my fingers around it.
Fires will still burn. Roofs will still fail.
Sirens will still pull me out of bed in the middle of the night and send me running toward smoke thick enough to swallow the sky.
Risk doesn’t disappear because we love someone, and loss doesn’t step aside just because we ask it to. The world stays heavy. It always has.
But she’s not the weight. She’s the reason it’s worth carrying.
All this time, she’s believed she was the variable, the fracture, the piece that didn’t belong. She isn’t.
She’s my Lucky Penny.
The best thing I’ve ever found.