“You didn’t put her there. You got her out.” He sounds as choked as I feel. “And I know…” He trails off, his throat thick with emotion. His brows are cinched. He runs his tongue over his molars, collecting himself. “I know what that took.” He’s trying to be grateful, but it’s buried beneath a lot of anguish. “They’ll make it out. Luna. Lily. They look small, but they’re tough.” The shred of hope I’d given him earlier tonight, he’s returning to me. Can’t lie about how much I need it. I’m carrying this hope like a lit match. One wrong breath and it’ll extinguish.
