Page 110 of Wraith

He shifts on the crutches. When he speaks, his voice is rough. Still healing.

“I’m here to testify.”

The words don’t make sense. I stare at him, at the determination in his gray eyes, at the way he’s holding himself upright through what must be considerable pain.

“Testify? What do you mean? They might not offer you full immunity. They might still send you to prison, or worse, maybe the Sons will… With everything you know, they might…”

“I know what they’ll try to do.” He cuts me off gently. “And I’m doing this anyway.”

“But why?”

“Because you saved my life. You came for me when you didn’t have to. When I’d given you every reason to leave me there. You did the right thing even though it was hard, even though I’d hurt you. And now it’s my turn to do the right thing.”

Tears blur my vision. I blink them back, trying to understand. “Dylan, are you sure?”

“Doing the right thing shouldn’t cost you your freedom.” His words come faster now, as if he’s afraid I’ll stop him. “It shouldn’t cost you that apartment you wanted, that job, that normal life. You want to testify because it’s responsible, because it’s brave. But you should get to do that and still build your life here. Still have a future that’s yours.”

“So you’re going to testify instead?” My brain is catching up now, seeing what he’s offering. The sacrifice. “You’re going to give the prosecutors what they need so I don’t have to?”

“I am.”

“No.”

“No? June, this way you can get everything you want…”

“Dylan, if you love me… if you love me at all… you’ll realize I need to make my own decisions. I want to testify.”

“Then we’ll testify together.” He reaches out, hand finding my arm. His touch is careful. Asking permission. “Between us, we can give them everything they need to put the Sons away. But June — I’ve got history with them. I was a member. I’m a more valuable witness than you are from a prosecution standpoint. Which means you might not need protection. Might not need to go into hiding or relocation. You can stay here. Start your life. Be the person you’re trying to become. I want to give you that chance.”

“You could go to prison,” I whisper. “For a long time. For things you did while you were with them.”

“Maybe.” He doesn’t look away. “Or maybe they won’t, if my testimony is valuable enough. But even if they don’t — even if I end up locked up — it’s worth it. You saved me, June. Now I’m doing the same. Choosing the hard right thing instead of the easy one.”

The tears spill over. I can’t stop them. Can’t stop the sob that builds in my chest at the sight of him standing here, broken and healing, offering me exactly what I need without taking away my choice to do it myself.

“I don’t want you to go to prison.” My voice is small. Younger than New June should sound.

“I know. But whatever happens — trials, testimony, consequences — we’ll do it as partners. As equals.”

He’s crying too, I realize. Silent tears cut tracks down his bruised face.

I close the distance between us carefully, mindful of his injuries, and press my lips to his. The kiss is soft. Chaste. Nothing like the desperate passion of before. This is something quieter. Something that feels like forgiveness and hope and the beginning of something real.

Something I’ve never had before.

Something new for New June.

When I pull back, I cup his face in my hands, feeling the stubble and the swelling and the warmth of him.

“I love you,” I say. “I’m still angry with you. Still hurt. But I love you. And I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. Not to anything. We’ll face this together. Whatever comes.”

I take his hand and hold it tight. Feel his fingers curl around mine with a strength that seems impossible, given how broken the rest of him is.

“Together.”

And standing there on the steps of the Ironwood Falls police station, with Evan watching from his truck and Officer Alvarado probably waiting inside, I believe it. Believe that this time it’s real. That New Dylan and New June can build something worth having. Something equal and honest, and brave.