Happy Birthday, Preacher.

My day.

Deep breath. Open eyes. Nine years and I'm still doing it. I'm still going, Jake.

Deep breath. Try and keep some coffee down.

Deep breath. Church. Every time Sam looked at me I could feel the lump in my throat growing.

Deep breath. Lunch out at the greasy diner. We sat in random booths and filled the whole place. Batman paid for everything. Yes, I ate.

Deep breath. The drive home. Lochlan holds my hand.

Deep breath. Look at garage the whole time he's parking the truck. Don't go inside.

Deep breath. Take PJ's pity-hugs without absorbing them, for self-preservation.

Deep breath. Plan the afternoon. A movie. Maybe a walk in the rain. Maybe a run to see if I can leave the screams inside my brain far behind me. Maybe just a cuddle by the fire.

Deep breath. Didn't do anything. It's raining and dark. So dark. I set all the clocks back last night, and as many watches as I saw. And the house alarm and the trucks.

Deep breath. Day's almost over and then I have tomorrow and then I'm in the clear. Birthday tomorrow. He would have been forty-six. Somehow the after is more easy to navigate than the during. I'll get through it. I'm tough. Tough and raw. Tough and pillowy-weak. A mess.

Deep breath. Every time I take one I bump into someone. I have no personal space. I wouldn't want it but I also need to take that breath soon.

Deep breath. Thank you for shifting an inch to the left, Ben.

Deep breath. I can sleep now.

Deep breath. It's not so bad. It's been so long. It's going to get better. This is fate. This is history. This is the future in which things that happen shape who you become and maybe I'm better than I was. Maybe I'm worse. But at least I'm taking my knocks and trying my hardest. At least I stayed for the character. At least I remained a freak. At least I have the other freaks now, and they keep a circle around me. Not to keep out evil, but to keep in everything else.

At least I can take a deep breath.

Slow (Only took nine years for me to figure this part out.)

Today is just the day before, that's all. It should be a harmless day but instead it's loaded with hollow points and it will bring nothing but death. Death and pain that always seems sharper and more final right now, each year and time keeps passing but it still feels the exact same. Sam can't explain it, Lochlan can't help it, Ben can't fix and Caleb can't have it. It isn't their place. This time is for me and Jacob and it feels like it did right at the beginning.

I took the children out for lunch and shopping and we laughed and I could feel myself starting to slide toward the end of our time out together. I brought them home and then it just rushed away like an avalanche and I can't keep it up anymore, and so PJ made me a drink so stiff it mightn't have needed the glass and August came over to 'hang out' and so did Joel, so I put on the hockey game and retreated to the library to look out the window and have my drink. Lochlan and Ben have taken up positions on either side of the library door, out in the foyer.

Sam is sleeping. When August heads home across the driveway, Sam will take night duty. They're trading twelve hour shifts, which is unnecessary but it's what they have worked out.

Caleb paces at the boathouse and calls Ben or PJ every half hour to see how tonight is going.

How is the night going?

Okay, actually. I'm feeling sad. Defeated, actually. As if I couldn't do enough and then I was forced to stop, because there wasn't anymore I could do, not then. I would have done anything he asked but he never asked. He just left and then he was gone and I didn't get a chance to fix the holes.

OH.

This is how they feel.

Holy smokes.

(Sometimes what you need is what you fight.)

My heartbeat, my oxygen
My banner, my home
My future, my song

He lay there in near-dark, tucking my hair behind my ear, his face just inches away in the tiny bed in the camper.

Why is it still so hard, Peanut? You're perpetually in shock and the rest of the time you'll give your heart in exchange to whoever gives you the time of day. I want it all back. How do we get it back? We are whispering. His eyes fill up and spill over into mine.

We've burned all our promise tickets and are back to square one. We've used up all our good fortunes, bought for a big tip and a promise not to call the cops about the still out behind the fortune teller's trailer. We've come to our year of reckoning and it isn't going our way. So we'll have to use this new map and figure out how to go in a completely different direction. We'll reinvent ourselves again. Not freaks but adventurers. Not children but adults. Not done yet but working on making sure it all turns out okay.

I don't know what he did. I don't know why it still hurts like this. If I did I would stop it. I don't want to feel like this. I want to love you and love Ben and live in the Collective and just be happy but I can't and nothing works.

(The closest we've ever had to normal was that little kitchenette room in Atlantic City. He lost his mind there and I hated it. I hated everything about it. That wasn't living. It was waiting to die.

What if we tried harder?

I feel like I haven't tried at all since our honeymoon. I'm sorry.

Don't be, peanut. You're doing so good.

Doesn't feel like it or I wouldn't make my husband cry almost as much as I do.

He pulls my hands up between us, kissing my knuckles. I hurt for you, bridge. If I could take this pain from you I would. Just tell me what to do.

Take the deal. Take the money. Pit them all against each other if you have to but don't waste an opportunity that's only going to come around once.

What if you-

I'm not leaving you.

We are nose to nose now, eyes wide. I can feel him shaking. I don't know if its fear or the chill in the camper since the heater isn't hooked up and I'm not much enough to keep a whole man warm.

He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. Sleep, peanut.

I nod and my eyes close too, against my wishes to continue to study his face.

I love you, Bridget.

Operation Make Bridget Happy seems well underway.

Dalton didn't even pretend he wasn't put up to it. He just dove right in. Not even a Good Morning to be had first. 

If you could watch any movie today, which movie would it be? 

Practical Magic. 

But Samhain is over. 

That's fine. I watch it whenever, it's not a holiday movie but more of a lifestyle choice. 

He nods. He's making notes. If you could eat anything what would it be?

Vietnamese food. Fried noodles and stuff. Or Thai. Chinese. Anything that comes with chopsticks. 

If you could have one question answered what would it be? 

Can we use Mystical Fire in the gas fireplaces too? 

That isn't the question I thought you'd ask. 

Ah. You thought I was going to ask if we could put up the Christmas trees now, right?

Is that a thing? 

Yes, and I am always told to wait one more month. It's a long wait, you know. 

Sweet little minutes.

His knees, elbows and the top of his head were black with mud. My entire back from my hair down to my boots matched. It was so obvious when we came back inside from cutting back the grapevines and stripping bark that Dalton asked if we had 'fun'.

Ben smiled a very big smile and said Well, duh.

We called for a clear path, which means everyone has to leave the kitchen/great room and back hallway in order for us to strip outside on the patio and then make our way upstairs to fetch warm, dry clothes.

Except that mud was everywhere so Ben started a hot shower and pulled me in in through the doors with him under the spray, holding the back of my head, mud streaked all over our faces, dirt grinding into my skin as he kissed me. I would have felt my knees go out except that he was holding me up.

Cue round two because he is as beautiful as he is insatiable.

He gave a final kiss to the top of my head as he dried my hair and then when I put on clean pajamas he said we need to head back out and do the leaf-raking maybe this weekend, and we can bring Lochlan. He didn't mention Caleb or anything else. He focused on the moment, which helped me do the same. Once he had a clean t-shirt and his own pajama pants on I threw myself into his arms and asked if I could just stay right here forever.

Naw, Bee. You get so restless. If I said yes, you'd think it was a trap.  You're a funny girl like that. A homebody with a constant case of cabin fever.  Let's go make some soup and then soon Lochlan will be home and we can show him how much work we put in. Maybe we'll get out of dinner duty.

And always, always with that rueful smile.

What do you mean? 

I mean what I said. I'm not going to do...anything, Bridge. I'm not going to acknowledge or further entertain these ridiculous stunts by the Devil to get to me and to you. I didn't hear it. I'm not accepting it. I'm just going to keep going forward. 

What if he gives you a time limit?

A what? A limit? I'll feign ignorance and ask him what he means. Or are you being ironic and playing dumb now? I can play dumb too, Peanut. 

What if-

What if WHAT? 

What if...I go to him anyway? Then you don't get your due. It's all for nothing. 

Well then I guess the only way to prevent that is to not go to him. Then we're square. Right? 

I nod. He's always been smarter than the rest. Not by choice or by design but purely out of necessity.

Caleb is going to come looking for you.

Let him come. I'm ready for anything. You forget I have the upper hand here. 

He says that and I take it all back. It's naive and pie in the sky and exactly like Loch. A walking contradiction. All logic one minute, all magic and foolishness the next. Right from wrong depends on the day. God help you if you get the days mixed up.

STUPIDLY CONFLICTED. But at least not conflictingly stupid. We've got that much going for us, as ever.

If I don't take it will you leave?

No. 

If I take it will I lose you? 

No. 

I don't trust anything right now, Bridge. 

Then don't take it. Life continues as it did before. 

But you go to him anyway. 

If I do anyway, you may as well have the money. Take it.

But you'll leave.

Then don't take the money. 

I never wanted to sell you out. I never had any long con. I just wanted him to leave us alone. 

I'll con him all I want. If he's giving it away I'll be first in line. He owes me everything. I don't consider it selling out, it's more like further restitution. He looked after me, and now he needs to look after you.

Restitution. That's a technical way of putting this. 

It's payback, Locket. He went and made his existence and he's offering it to us. We've come full circle. Take it and enjoy it. You've suffered enough. 

But you might decide he's what you want. 

He'll never be what I want. I want you. And Ben. And...sometimes August. 

Bridget, he's been chipping away at you for years. What if this changes everything? What if it's a test of my loyalty? What if it's a test of yours? 

Then don't take it! Christ! Make up your mind. 

Not the Halloween party post you were looking for.

(Words, weapons, wrath. Wounds. Wary. WHAT the fuck.)

I made her wealthy. I can do the same for you and then you wouldn't have to leave her during the day, wouldn't have to worry anymore. You could buy a new RV. You could do whatever you please instead of shilling for dimes, Dóiteáin, working for the man. Worried you'll get fucked over before payday, worried something will happen when you're not around. Life changes when you have money. Ask Bridget what it's like now that she doesn't have to save up to buy shoes for Henry, or budget when she goes grocery shopping. Ask her what little I asked of her in exchange for everything I gave away.

But Lochlan isn't going to respond. Not like this. He's looking at the floor instead of at the gun. It was the only way Caleb could get him to stand still for a moment and just listen.

Diabhal-

Please, Neamhchiontach. Be quiet right now, Baby, please. His voice wavers but his hand is steady as he addresses Loch. I'm asking for time, and I'm going to pay for it. You're out nothing. She comes to me willingly and then at the end of the day she goes home. She remains yours. I get what I need. You're set for the rest of your miserable grifter life and no one gets hurt. I'm not going to bite her or tear her down. I just want to help her with Cole and I need to help myself. This will be nothing to you. Nothing she hasn't already done, nothing you aren't used to. I'll keep her safe, I promise you that but I don't want to spend the rest of my life pretending this isn't how life was meant to be. The three of us are here together for a reason. She isn't going to get better without me, let me fix this. Let me set things right-

I'm not selling out to you with her-

You wouldn't be selling out to anyone. I always thought we would go into business together, make our fortunes together. We can do that now. You become my partner. We can fix this. We did it, let's make it right. Before it's too late. Enough has gone wrong, Lochlan. There's been enough madness here. Let's fix this while there's still time. You've got her back finally, now is the time to make this the best life we can. I'm asking you for an arrangement that would put an end to this war. No more games. Just peace of mind. Accountability for your part in this. And Bridget gets better. Don't deny her this chance to be happy. Don't take away the last shot at fixing this because of your ridiculous pride. 

He waves us out. Think about this. We'll talk tomorrow. Or the next day. We can have the papers drawn up this week. You will both be fully protected in this arrangement. Whether it's a long con by you or not, I don't even care anymore. I just want this to stop. This fighting. This misery. 

Lochlan nods and then walks out, leaving me there. I follow him. he turns back on me halfway across the driveway in the dark.

Maybe it's a long con by you and Caleb. If I don't accept this, what happens to us? What do you want me to do here, Bridge? Which way are you hoping this goes?

I'd take it down but I can't bear to.

He came back into the kitchen, wrapping his fingers around my upper arms, pressing his forehead against mine, walking backwards until we were up against the wall. He smiled at me, painfully almost.

Don't write about it, Bridgie. Don't write about it when I touch you. Don't write about us making love. Don't put it there so he can see it. It's not for him. It's for us.

Weird. I thought Lochlan would be boastful, thrilled to have it right out there for everyone (the Devil) to read. But he isn't.