Declan does not say much on the drive back to the trailer, and I am grateful for that because I do not have the energy to pretend that I am okay or even remotely functional right now, and any attempt at conversation would feel like a performance I cannot sustain.
Everything feels muted, not numb exactly but heavy, as though every thought in my head is wrapped in wet concrete and dragging slowly behind the next.
When we pull up outside my trailer, he turns the engine off and looks at me instead of reaching for the door immediately.
“You want me to walk you in,” he asks quietly.
“No,” I say, and my voice sounds far away even to me.
He studies my face like he is trying to decide whether to argue, but eventually he nods once.
“I’ll be right outside,” he says.
“I know.”
I step out of th
