The run back to Jackson had been dead quiet. You didn’t say a word. Not because you didn’t want to—God, you had a million things you wanted to scream back at Joel—but your throat was still raw from crying, and the silence was safer than his voice right now.

He didn’t even glance back at you. Not once.

You thought going on patrol with Joel would feel safe. Familiar. Maybe even nice. He was your boyfriend. He knew your limits. He was supposed to be the one who made you feel like the world wasn’t so damn loud and cruel all the time. But after that wrong turn and the ambush, something in him snapped. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the fear, or that old stubborn, wounded part of him that always came out swinging. Whatever it was, he’d looked at you like you were just another thing dragging him down.

“See what happens when you don’t check the map?” he barked the second the door slammed behind you in the abandoned building. You flinched, your hands still trembling from gripping your weapon too tightly. He kept going. “We can’t just be taking wrong turns all willy nilly! If you can’t follow simple instructions then I don’t understand how you’ve managed to survive this long!”

Your ears rang louder than the clickers had. You stood frozen, blinking up at him with wide, tear-glossed eyes. You tried to open your mouth, to explain that maps confuse you sometimes, that your brain doesn’t process that kind of spatial information like his does—but you couldn’t even form words. You hated being yelled at. Hated the heat in your chest and the shaking in your hands. It reminded you of every time you were told you weren’t good enough, weren’t smart enough, weren’t enough.

He wasn’t done.

“You’re a burden,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair like he couldn’t stand to even look at you. “It’d be better if you just stayed in Jackson next time. You just slow me down. Dead weight.”

That was what broke you.

Dead weight.

Like you were nothing. Like you didn’t matter. Like every time you’d held his hand and felt safe, every soft moment between you, every time he’d said you made him feel something again—it had all been a lie.

You didn’t remember much of the walk back. You were shaking too hard to focus on anything other than the storm in your chest. When you finally reached Jackson, you didn’t go home. You didn’t even stop by Ellie’s like you usually did after patrol. You went straight to the little green house tucked near the south side of town, where the porch was always lined with mismatched chairs and the smell of dried herbs clung to the air like incense.

Your hand was barely on the door before your grandma opened it.

“Baby?” Gail said gently, her eyes immediately narrowing in on your tear-streaked face. “What happened?”

You collapsed into her arms without a word, and she wrapped you in that patchwork sweater she always wore when she was home, the one that smelled like lavender and weed and everything safe. Eugene appeared a moment later, his face going dark the moment he saw you crying. “Was it Joel?” he asked, though his tone made it clear he already knew.

You nodded into Gail’s chest.

Your grandma guided you inside and sat you down on the old floral couch while Eugene muttered something about “finally having a damn excuse” under his breath and disappeared into the kitchen. Gail crouched in front of you, brushing hair out of your face like she used to when you were little.

“I told you from day one that man carries too much weight to know how to hold something gentle,” she murmured. “But he came to me for help. I thought maybe he was learning. I thought he’d understand you.”

You sniffled, curling your hands into your lap. “He called me a burden. Said I should’ve stayed behind. Dead weight. All ‘cause I messed up the map…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, pulling you close again. “You’re not a burden. You’re not dead weight. You are light, you hear me? You make this whole damn town brighter just by being in it.”

Eugene reappeared with a hot cup of tea and handed it to you gently. “Screw him,”