Epilogue
Dee
The conversation in the living room carried on behind her, warm and easy, voices overlapping beneath bursts of laughter that rose without restraint and settled just as naturally again. It filled Declan’s house in a way that felt lived-in.
Dee let the sound fade slightly as she stepped into the hallway, the noise softening just enough to give her room to breathe around everything she was feeling.
It had been really nice, in fact far better than she’d expected. The kind of good that left this strange joyful ache behind it, her chest not quite knowing what to do with the weight of seeing someone she loved finally receive something they spent their whole life going without.
Riley had been happy in there, steady in a way Dee rarely saw from her, sitting amongst Declan’s family like there had always been a space waiting for her there. She clearly belonged in the middle of that family, which made Dee so genuinely happy for her that she could barely stand it.
But beneath that happiness sat something sharper. Some ugly, quiet part of her couldn’t stop noticing how easily Riley had become part of that family, leaving Dee partially behind.
“Hey.”
She closed her eyes for half a second, the moment immediately ruined. Of fucking course. Dee turned slowly, already unimpressed. “If this is about your sudden appreciation for emotional vulnerability, I’m not interested.”
Tyler was leaning against the opposite wall like he hadn’t very obviously followed her out there on purpose, arms crossed tightly enough to suggest he regretted it already. “Relax,” he muttered. “It’s not that deep.”
Dee let out a short laugh. “Everything with you is that deep,” she shot back. “You just aggressively avoid acknowledging it because of your testosterone.”
His jaw shifted, the reaction instinctive, but it stopped there. No sarcastic comeback, which was more alarming than if he’d argued.
Instead, he just looked at her. “I just wanted to talk,” he said.
Dee blinked once, slow enough that it bordered on theatrical. “Well, you’ve already lost me.”
She pushed off the wall, moving to step around him, already done with whatever strange emotional side-quest this was turning into. Tyler shifted slightly before she could pass, not touching her, yet occupying enough space to make it clear he wasn’t finished yet.
“What the fuck, Tyler?”
“Just wait a second.”
That gave her pause. His tone had changed completely. There was no bite to it. Instead, there was something unusually measured, which was interesting coming from a man she’d privately described multiple times as emotionally constipated with an excellent ass.
Dee narrowed her eyes at him, reassessing in real time. “… This better be good,” she said.
Tyler dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling like he was trying to line something up in his head before it came out wrong. “It’s about Ebony.”
Dee’s posture shifted instantly, the sharp edge in her stance softening just enough to let something else in. Concern. Focus.
“What about her?” she asked, quicker now, all bite redirected.
Tyler glanced back toward the living room briefly, like part of his attention was still fixed there even with a wall between them. “She’s been…” He stopped, jaw tightening slightly. “Different.”
The word landed awkwardly coming from him, too vague for what he was clearly trying to explain. Dee’s expression sharpened immediately. “Different, how?”
Tyler exhaled slowly through his nose, like he was forcing himself not to brush past it this time. “She’s quieter,” he said finally. “But not in a good way, not just Ebony doing her own thing.” His brow pulled faintly. “It’s like she’s… pulled back from life a bit?”
His gaze flicked instinctively toward the living room again. “Whatever was going on before, that’s settled,” he said. “This feels different.”
Dee stayed quiet, letting him work through it. Tyler dragged a hand over the back of his neck before speaking again, slower now.
“I think it’s about her mum.”
Dee became instantly aware that this was serious.
“She told me what she said to Riley,” he continued.
“She now knows what it feels like to lose someone now,” he said.
“Someone she feels safe with.” A beat passed.
“And I don’t think it lines up with what she thinks she’s supposed to feel about her mum. ”
Dee’s gaze didn’t leave him. “She’s trying to identify why she feels differently and holding her emotions in,” she said.
“Yeah,” Tyler nodded slowly. “Exactly.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, exhaling through his nose before looking back at her. “And I don’t know how to help her with that.”
There was no defensiveness left in it now, none of his usual ego. Just frustration directed entirely at himself. “I don’t know how to explain something I don’t think she experiences the same way,” he admitted quietly. “And I think if I keep guessing, I’m gonna get it wrong.”
Tyler wasn’t the kind of person who admitted uncertainty easily, especially not to her. Dee crossed her arms more tightly, studying him for a moment as her brain moved ahead, already sorting through possibilities, clinicians, approaches.
“It doesn’t always translate cleanly,” she said finally. “Not with something like this.”
He stayed quiet, listening properly, so she continued. “She didn’t have an emotional anchor for her mother,” Dee explained. “So the loss stayed abstract, conceptual, in a way. She understood it intellectually, but there was nothing emotionally concrete attached to it.”
Tyler nodded once, following.
“But now she does,” Dee said. “Now she knows what attachment feels like, what safety feels like, which then means the grief stops being theoretical.”
A small silence settled between them. “And now her brain’s trying to force those two versions together,” Dee added. “The person who thought she didn’t feel anything about losing her mum, and the person who suddenly understands what that loss actually meant.”
Tyler dragged a hand through his hair slowly. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Yeah. Okay.” His eyes lifted back to hers. “That’s exactly it.”
Dee watched him for a second, something more thoughtful settling behind her expression. “I’m a little surprised you got there on your own,” she admitted.
He huffed a quiet laugh, humourless around the edges. “Yeah, well.” His shoulders lifted faintly. “Turns out you were right.”
That caught her off guard enough that she actually blinked. Tyler noticed immediately, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. “Don’t look so shocked,” he muttered.
“No, I’m gonna need a second actually,” Dee shot back. “You admitting I’m right feels like I’ve just won the lotto.”
A proper laugh escaped him then, brief but real, before his expression settled again. “She needs your help, Dee,” he said quietly.
And there it was, a prideless plea from a father asking for help because he loved his daughter more than he needed to be comfortable. Something in Dee’s chest shifted unexpectedly.
Because for all the ways Tyler irritated the absolute hell out of her, this wasn’t a man avoiding Ebony’s needs to protect his own ego. He was standing here having a conversation he clearly didn’t want to have, because he wanted to get it right for her.
“I won’t take her on myself,” Dee said carefully.
Tyler’s jaw tightened slightly. “Because of Riley?”
“Because of multiple conflicts of interest,” Dee corrected. “Riley is one. You and your family are another. I’m not blurring those lines.”
He exhaled slowly, frustration flickering across his face, but he accepted it. “Okay,” he said. “Then what?”
Dee hesitated briefly, already knowing she was going to say yes before she opened her mouth.
“I’ll refer her,” she said finally. “I’ve got a psychologist at Stillwater who’s excellent with neurodiversity and grief.”
Tyler held her gaze for a moment. “You trust her?”
Dee’s expression sharpened slightly. “If she works at my clinic, she’s one of the best. I don’t half-ass my choices.”
Something eased visibly in his posture at that, subtle but unmistakable. “Thank you,” he said.
Dee rolled her eyes automatically. “Don’t thank me. I’m not doing this for you.”
“I know.” The sincerity in it disarmed her more than she wanted it to. A quieter pause settled between them this time.
“Still,” Tyler said, lower now, “I appreciate it.”
Dee looked away first, suddenly unwilling to let the moment become any more genuine than it already had. “Yeah, well,” she muttered. “Don’t get used to it.”
Silence settled between them afterwards, quieter now. Not awkward exactly, and yet unfamiliar enough that Dee became aware of herself standing there in it. Then Tyler shifted, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to become annoying again.
“For the record,” he said, “you’re still a pain in the ass.”
Dee snorted before she could stop herself. “And you’re still emotionally constipated.”
That earned her a real smile this time. Brief, crooked, gone almost immediately, but enough to soften something in his face she hadn’t realised had been held tight all evening. Their eyes met again, and this time the space between them felt different, less combative.
Weirdly mature. Dee hated it a little. She shook her head first, breaking eye contact before the moment could become any more sincere than it already was.
“Go back in there,” she said. “Before your mum comes looking for you and drags you out by the ear again.”
Tyler huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, not doing that twice in one year.”
“Smartest thing you’ve said all night.”
He pushed off the wall and started back toward the living room, slowing briefly as he passed her. “Hey, Dee.”
She didn’t bother turning around. “What.”
“… Thanks.”
Dee rolled her eyes automatically, but there was no real bite left in it now. “Fuck off.”
She heard him laugh softly under his breath before he disappeared back into the noise of the apartment. And despite herself, Dee realised she was smiling a little too.
Ew, hell no.
She pulled out her phone before she could think about that too hard, already opening Sophie’s contact.
Hey Soph, sorry to text you and ruin your day off, but I need a favour…
?