Coby didn’t tell anyone when he took the day off work the last day of Spring break and drove up to see Morgan. He knew that the girls had all gone up in the middle of the week to visit her, because he had watched Christian for Jess.
Apparently, Morgan was acting more like herself and that was a good thing, but her memory was like a big hole when it came to her what landed her in rehab in the first place. She had vague memories of the Bible study that sent her over the edge, but that was it.
She couldn’t remember anything about the night when Jonathan, Nathaniel and Cary brought her to the hospital, and when the girls showed her the note the guys had found in her sweatshirt, Morgan’s response was genuine surprise. It was like someone else had written it.
Coby had made the long drive in silence. He hadn’t seen Morgan since they had all gone to the study room together. He had thought at the time, that she was handling herself remarkably well. It was only in hindsight that he was able to realize that emotion would have been a good sign. That she wasn’t reacting because she had numbed herself.
He also knew that it could just as easily have been him in this place. He could be the one dealing with being away from his family, away from everything he knew, having destroyed the trust in everyone he was close to. He had dove deep into the bottle after everything happened, and it was only when Bryan caught him after a night at the bar, and been there for him while he got his act together, that Coby was able to admit that he needed help, and started attending meetings and taking his sobriety seriously. It had been three months since he had a drink, and he looked forward to the day when Morgan could also look back on her weeks, months and eventually years clean and sober, and be proud.
He pulled into the parking lot, and grabbed the mail off the front seat. Jess had made it her personal mission to write in a card for Morgan every week, and Christian had gotten into it, too. So there was one from them, a comic that Aaron had saved from the paper, and a letter from Liam, that had been passed along from person to person until Coby had it, since Liam didn’t know the address, and apparently couldn’t ask.
Walking inside, Coby took a deep breath, trying not to be nervous. It was a comfort to know that anonymity was the name of the game here. So that even if he or Morgan were recognized, no one would say anything about it. It was like AA.
He stood in the small line at the visitor’s table, and once he got to the front, he said who he was here to see. He signed in on the visitor’s log, and got a nametag. He wrote JACOB on it and stuck it on his shirt. He let the woman behind the table look at everything he had brought to determine it was safe to come inside. Then, she paged Morgan to make sure she was in the visitor‘s room.
Once he knew she was there, Coby made his way inside. It reminded him of a hotel lobby or of their cafeteria on campus, only with carpeting.
When he glanced up and saw her, Coby’s breath caught. She was dressed in an ankle-length jean skirt and a pink dress shirt with her hair half-up. It was the most feminine Coby had seen her dress since church one Sunday afterward. Well, it was Sunday now. Maybe that explained it.
Her parents were also visiting, which was something he hadn’t expected. He hung back, not wanting to intrude, but Morgan caught sight of him anyway.
“Hey,” she waved, relieved to see a friendly face.
So far, all her parents had done was ask her repeatedly how she could do something like this to them. They told her that she had better be working hard to get her life back on track and she had better have a plan for once she got out, because there was no way they were allowing a drug addict back into the house, with Jason and Alyssa there. They had already kicked Kate out, and as of now, Morgan didn’t have a home with them.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Coby apologized.
“That’s okay,” Morgan’s mom nodded. “We were just leaving.” She dropped her voice as she approached him. “We’re not very impressed with her.”
Coby bit his tongue, so he wouldn’t say what he was thinking. That he wasn’t very impressed with them.
“You know,” her dad said, talking to Coby like they were old buddies. “If she doesn’t stop using, she’ll die.”
He continued past them, not acknowledging the comment, stopping in front of Morgan and tucking his hands in his pockets. He hated feeling this new nervousness around her. Being unsure of how to act, and how she would react. So much of the past months had been a lie, Coby found that he really didn’t know how Morgan was going to be, now that she was coming off everything.
Morgan made the first move, moving to stand alongside Coby and putting one arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. She was being taught all new ways to interact with people, especially men, in the sexual abuse group that she was in. She was learning to take pride in her femininity. It was tough working out all the weird ways her brain equated power and love now, but Morgan was determined.
“Sit down,” she invited, taking a chair across from him. “Thanks so much for coming. I missed you.”
“No problem,” Coby shrugged out of his coat. “How have you been in here?”
Morgan shrugged. “All right, I guess. “That’s the first time I’ve seen my parents. Family Week is next week, and neither one of them want to be here for it, because it’s too expensive and they can’t take off work and a million other excuses.”
“Maybe a couple of us can show up for it. We’re pretty much family, right? Would they allow that?” Coby asked.
“Maybe,” Morgan shrugged. “You guys don’t have to do that, though. This is my life. My mess. I have to fix it.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to fix it alone,” Coby pointed out. “We all want you to get better and succeed at this. We want to support you,” he told her matter-of-factly.
“You shouldn’t have to,” Morgan told him, not meeting his eyes.
There was silence for a minute.
“You look better,” Coby offered finally, unsure if she would take offense. The old Morgan might have come back with a wisecrack. But he wasn’t sure about this Morgan.
“Thanks,” she replied, trying not to blush. “Guess I must’ve looked pretty shitty the last time you saw me, huh?”
Coby didn’t respond. He didn’t know what he could say.
“So, what’s it like here?” he asked, and listened as she explained all the rules, and the boundaries there. How they had to keep their space clean, chairs pushed in, blankets on the bed not touching the floor, or they’d be fined a dollar. She told him about the group she was in and what its theme was.
“It’s kind of fitting for me, because it has a lot of Hawaiian stuff,” she confided. “We never know what the schedule is until the day of, because it can change, and it does. All about one day at a time.”
“I know about that,” Coby nodded.
“Damn, the twelve steps are hard,” she admitted softly drawing a design on the table with her finger. “I’m still not even done with the first one yet,” she told him because he understood.
“You’re supposed to take it slow,” Coby reminded. “It’s good to take your time with this. It’s important.”
“It’s all the Higher Power stuff,” she confessed. “I don’t know where I stand with God. But I went to church today,” she said, brightening. “It was pretty cool. A Catholic one. I sort of wish Bryan was here so I could pick his brain about it. Will you tell him?”
“Sure,” Coby nodded, his heart lifting at the news that Morgan was in church again, just because she used to get so much out of it.
“I couldn’t understand a lot of it because it was in Latin, but the message was just what I needed to hear,” she said, letting her sentence hang. She didn’t really feel comfortable sharing what it was that she had needed to hear, and hoped Coby would be cool with that.
“What’s all that stuff?” she asked, pointing to the small pile of mail on the table.
“From Jess and Christian,” he said handing her a card that had a sad dog on the front and said “Hope you feel better” inside. Jess had written her own message about how much she loved Morgan and was hoping that she was getting everything she could out of the time she had.
Christian had drawn her a picture that Morgan couldn’t identify. It was a green scribble of crayon, with a message underneath.
“I love you. Sorry?” she read, questioning the last word.
“He means he’s sorry you’re sick,” Coby explained. “That’s all we told him. That you’re sick and had to go to the hospital and rehab to get better. Jess went to rehab, so he doesn’t know the difference.”
“Oh,” Morgan nodded. “What’s all the green?” she asked.
“I think that’s supposed to be Hawaii. And the yellow is pineapple,” Coby clarified, smiling.
“How’d he know I’d be missing that?” she asked, closing the card and putting it back in the envelope.
Coby handed her the comic strip Aaron had found in the paper, which made her laugh for the first time Morgan could recall in a long time.
Finally, Morgan’s eyes fell on the last thing. The white envelope with her name scrawled across the front in Liam’s handwriting. She swallowed convulsively.
Though she had little memory of anything that had led her here, she clearly remembered earlier times when she started taking stuff. Just one or two of something here and there, and the way she would cuddle up to him, feeling vaguely sick about it. How no matter how far she took it, Liam never said no.
She went cold, as a memory flashed through her mind. It was disjointed, and fuzzy, but it was there. Liam’s mouth closed over hers. Their skin touching where it shouldn’t have. Him taking her against the closet door and her head smacking it with a sickening thud.
Morgan took the envelope and carefully opened it with shaking hands.
Dear Morgan,
Do you have any idea how much you mean to me? I didn’t. Not until I was about to lose you. You were talking normally and acting like yourself, so I didn’t believe Jon when he told me you were high on whatever you had taken. Only later, when you started flirting with Cary - which is something you would never do, especially with me right in the room. And later when I realized that Jon, Nate and Cary had taken you to the psychiatric wing of the hospital. Anyway, I‘m sorry I didn’t realize you were using.
I want you to know that you that I am praying as hard as my heart will allow for you to get better. To get the help you need. I know I said that if you didn’t go to a Christian treatment center, our relationship would be over. But I realize that I over-reacted. As long as you are getting help, that’s all that matters.
I still love you Morgan. I still want us to be married and have a life and a family together, even though you broke my trust. I‘m praying that God will restore you fully to the Morgan I fell in love with six months ago. The Morgan who runs hard after life and the Lord. The Morgan who isn’t afraid to challenge me in my own walk of faith. The Morgan with high moral standards. When you get your life together, I‘ll be waiting.
Always,
Liam
Morgan shook her head and felt the room spinning. There was no mention of them making out like horn dogs, his hands all over her, his tongue in her mouth. It would be like Liam, though, not to include any detail that might reflect badly on himself.
“Are you okay?” Coby asked gently. He knew a letter from Liam couldn’t be good, but also figured that Morgan wouldn’t be able to resist seeing what he had to say.
“I need to use the phone,” she said thickly, getting up and making her way to the one in the hall that was available for public use.
She felt grateful that all Coby had done was nod. That he hadn’t pushed to know what the letter said, or what was wrong, like Liam surely would have. Jess was lucky to have him.
Grimly, she took the old copy of the Bible study directory out of her pocket. Legend had brought it, so she would have all their numbers, since she wasn’t allowed to have her cell phone inside. Scanning it, she quickly found Jonathan’s number and dialed, cursing softly when it rolled over to voice mail.
“Hey, this is Jonathan. Leave me a message, and I’ll call you back…Maybe…”
“Hey, Jon. It’s Morgan. I just had a quick question, but I’ll call Nate and ask. Miss you guys. I’ll call when I can,” she said and hung up.
She fed the phone some more coins and dialed Nathaniel, waiting impatiently for him to pick up the call.
--
“It’s a beautiful day,” Bono sang from Nate’s cell phone.
U2’s Beautiful Day was an ironic ring tone choice for calls from an unknown number, but Nathaniel liked it. These days, however, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of actually picking up strange phone calls. So, he let Cary do it.
Wordlessly, Nate nudged the phone across the kitchen table, where Cary was sitting sipping some mint tea in honor of the recent Irish holiday, because it was green.
Cary sipped and then hit a button and picked up the call, as if it had come to his own phone. “Hello? This is Cary,” he asked casually.
On the other end of the call, Morgan’s brow crinkled in confusion. The voice that picked up sounded nothing like Nate‘s. The sick feeling in her gut intensified and she felt dirty.
Liam had mentioned a Cary in his letter. Maybe this was him.
“I’m sorry…” she managed. “I must have dialed the wrong number, I was looking for Nathaniel.”
“He’s right here. Can I ask who’s calling?” Cary asked amiably.
Nate looked on, entertained. Cary had this way of engaging just about anyone, even telemarketers, in long, friendly exchanges about nothing in particular. They always ended with Cary politely declining whatever they were selling, but Nate always enjoyed listening to him talk, or ask intriguing questions about whatever random item was being sold.
‘Hey Cary,” Morgan said. She forced herself to be a woman and not hang up like a total loser. “This is Morgan.”
“Oh, hey, girl!” Cary greeted, brightening. “How are you? You sound good.”
“I’m hanging in there. How are you?” she asked, when what she really wanted to ask was who he was. She still had no idea how he was connected to Nate.
“I’m great. I’m Nate’s boyfriend, by the way, in case you were curious,” he told her easily. “Nate’s looking eager to say hi, so I’ll let you guys talk.”
“Hey, Morgan,” Nate greeted quietly. “Are you okay?”
“Well…I’m not sure how to answer that right now, but I had a question for you.”
“Okay,” Nate agreed, waving off Liam, who had begun making random annoying gestures and mouthing Morgan’s name.
“I need to talk to her,” he stage-whispered, standing so close that Nate felt uncomfortable.
“No! Come on! Go away!” Nate told him, still keeping his voice down. He excused himself to his room, leaving the door open long enough for Cary to come in if he wanted and then locking it when he didn’t follow. It would serve Liam right to spend some quality time with a guy like Cary. Maybe Cary would rub off on him. Nate doubted it, but it was nice to hope anyway.
--
Cary sat at the table, his feet propped up on a kitchen chair. His sipped his tea, and looked on, mildly interested as Liam paced the floor and talked to himself.
“So, what’s your deal?” Cary asked, putting his feet on the ground again.
“What business is it of yours?” Liam snapped. “Just because you were there when Jon and Nathaniel took Morgan to the hospital doesn’t mean you were involved! Then or now.”
“Okay,” Cary breathed. “Now that you’ve got that out of your system. What’s your problem.”
“I need to talk to Morgan. I haven’t in forever, and I really need to talk to her. To see if she got my note. If she’s serious about changing or not.”
Cary stood slowly. “First of all, I know you don’t like it,” he said deliberately keeping his cool because Liam had already lost his. “But I am involved. And secondly, what Morgan does is up to her. And it has to be up to her. She can’t be getting clean and sober for you or anybody else but herself. Otherwise, she’ll end up resenting you, and the rehab won‘t have as good a chance at sticking.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” Liam retorted.
“Actually, it was Oprah,” Cary corrected easily, smiling.
“Of course…” Liam sighed, sprawling dejectedly on the couch. “Oprah…”
--
“So, what’s up?” Nate asked, flopping on his bed.
“That night…” Morgan started, nervous already. “I need to know, and I don’t remember,” she divulged, sounding vulnerable and a little scared. “Did Liam and I…I mean… Did he do anything to me? I keep remembering him touching me… Kissing me… But he hasn’t mentioned it, and I just have to know if we, you know, went too far or anything. Not that you would know, but just in case you did…” she trailed off, feeling close to throwing up.
“Cary, Jon and I walked in on both of you,” Nate said softly. “You were both in your underclothes, making out. Jon and I were kind of stunned, but Cary pulled Liam off you. He said you wanted to, and you said you wanted to, but Jon and I knew better. We all know better, Morgan. You don’t like being touched, especially by guys, so if you had said it was okay for some reason, Liam should have known better than to go along with it.”
“But we didn’t…” she stuttered.
“It didn’t look like it, no…” Nate told her honestly.
“Okay,” Morgan breathed, wiping a hand across her brow. “Thanks, Nate. Thank Cary, too. I love you guys. I gotta get back to Coby, though. He’s here for visiting hour.”
“All right,” Nate nodded to himself, jumping a little as Liam pounded on the door whining about how he didn’t have Morgan’s number and he had to talk to her right now. “I love you, too. Take care,” he said, and hung up.
--
As long as Aaron was leading BS, they didn’t have official meeting days or times. Just whenever he felt like it. He invited everyone. Sometimes they came, and sometimes there were only a couple of them. Sometimes, he had an impromptu one at Monday Madness.
Today, it was Sunday, so he decided to have it after Coby came back from visiting Morgan at rehab, to see how she was doing. That way, it would be almost like she was there.
It was almost seven o’clock at night. Jess stayed in that night, getting a full night’s sleep before classes started again, but let him know that she would be praying for all of them, as always, and that if anything came up, the girls would let her know so that she could pray.
Everybody else showed up, though, including Liam, which was a little surprising because of the way he had stormed out the last time. But he came, telling them he was sorry, that he had been very offended, but he and God had talked it over, and now Liam realized that a change in leadership wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“So, how’s everybody’s week been?” Aaron asked.
“Kind of stressful. I’m not gonna lie,” Libby admitted. “It’s weird with one less person in the house, and thinking about bills and what she’s going to do when she gets back. You know, is she even going to decide to live with us again, or is she going to do something else?”
“Yeah, that would be stressful. We’ll pray about that. Anybody else?” Aaron asked.
“I think that’s really insensitive,” Liam told Libby condescendingly. “Morgan is up at some drug rehab and all you girls can think of is yourselves and your bills. Morgan is fighting for her life. You guys need to wake up,” he said, sitting back. “We need to pray for Morgan. Not for our own agendas.”
“All right. That’s enough,” Aaron said mildly. “You don’t need to put anybody else down in order to make a point.”
“It’s just Libby,’ Liam scoffed, put out already that he was being put in his place by Aaron - who didn’t even know what he was talking about. “We do it all the time.”
“You do it all the time. And you need to stop,” Libby told him, taking strength from Aaron.
Slowly, they went around and shared. Liam was noticeably quiet, sulking, but claiming not to be.
Coby shared the basics of visiting Morgan, refusing to invade her privacy with more than he knew she would be comfortable letting everyone know.
Aaron kept everything low-key and prayed for everyone at the end, including the ones who couldn’t be with them. Morgan, Jess, Christian and Cary all got just as much love as the ones present did. And that was the way Aaron wanted it.
He considered his first official turn as BS leader a resounding success, even if Liam hadn’t stopped glaring the entire time. Aaron had dealt with plenty worse. He could deal with Liam’s attitude.
--
Truth be told, Jonathan hadn’t been sleeping well since Morgan showed up at their place drunk and high off her ass. He forgave her of course. He even understood her reasons, but it hadn’t stopped him from waking up every hour. From having weird dreams that she was trapped behind a wall, clearly in trouble, and he couldn’t get to her.
By Sunday night, he was so exhausted that he fell immediately into a fitful sleep, and a nightmare that he had already lived through once, and had prayed to never live through again.
--
The room was dark. Buddy had only been there a few minutes, but he had already done plenty of damage, shooting Jess, Bryan and Coby, and taking Morgan, Libby, and now Nathaniel behind that damn desk at the front of the room and doing God-knew-what to them.
Jon had been quiet, but waiting for an opening. He got enough courage the third time Buddy disappeared behind the desk to attempt to do something. Someone had to. Otherwise none of them would get out alive. He had tried planning something with Aaron and Bryan, but Bryan was bleeding , and Emily was so terrified that she needed Aaron to constantly be talking to her in order not to completely lose it.
Instead, Jon had looked across to other the other tables. Legend was as still as Jess beneath their table. He prayed she was only playing dead, so she wouldn’t attract attention. Then, he risked a look at the table closest to the door, where Buddy was picking out people to go behind the desk with him.
To Jon’s way of thinking, if Buddy was distracted, then he wasn’t paying attention to the rest of the room. And maybe one of them could make a break for it. Coby caught his eye, and Jon signaled waited for Coby’s nod. But Jon chickened out, and when he whispered something - he couldn’t even remember what now - Buddy had popped his head out and seen Jon in the middle of gesturing at Coby.
“What’s all this shit?” he had asked, and come running forward, slashing Jon down one side of his face. It felt like his skin was burning.
--
Nathaniel sat straight up in bed when he heard Jon scream. The sound terrified him, and the way he said “shit” was the exact same as it had sounded when Nate was sitting behind the desk, where Buddy had left him, and gone to cut Jonathan. Later, he heard Jon had been threatened, too. That Buddy told him he would take Jon next if he didn’t knock off whatever he was doing.
Paralyzed with fear, Nate stayed where he was, not willing to risk checking it out. Just in case it wasn’t Jon dreaming.
Just in case it was real.
--
Liam started awake when Jon screamed, and cursed like he was being hurt. He drifted back to sleep until he heard angry banging on his bedroom door. He sat straight up when his door swung open and Jon lurched inside, holding his face.
“Help me,” he mumbled, sounding weak.
“Jon?” Liam asked dumbfounded. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t very well go back to sleep with Jon wandering around, pounding on doors and yelling curses out for them and the neighbors to hear. “What is it?” he hedged.
But by then, Jonathan had staggered out, apparently too look for help somewhere else. Liam had almost managed to fall back asleep when he heard a crash. He got up, heaving a sigh, and found Jon, tangled in the X-Box controls. He scurried away from them, his face pale and frightened, as if the plastic pieces with buttons meant him serious harm.
“Hey, Jon. Come on, man. Go back to bed, okay? It’s just a dream,” Liam offered mildly not moving from the doorway of the living room.
Blinking heavily, Jon glanced up and his breath caught. “No,” he rasped, seeing a figure lurking in the doorway, just the way Buddy had liked to before he locked them in with him.
Sighing, Liam made his way into the room, figuring he probably needed to actually help Jon back to his room or something. It wasn’t an idea Liam was crazy about, but he would do it, especially if it meant that Liam would be able to get some rest.
“All right. Come on. If you wake people up other than me, it’s not gonna be good. They won’t be as understanding.” Liam claimed, crouching in front of Jon and attempting to pull him up
What Liam wasn’t prepared for was for Jon to go all Street Fighter on him. Jon pushed him away, making a strange choking sound, struggling for breath, but still managed to pull off a punch that knocked Liam’s head back.
“Damn it, Jonathan!” Liam exclaimed, angrily.
Scared beyond anything rational, Jon stumbled backward into the wall, hand still clutched to his face and struggling to breathe. Buddy still had his hand around Jon’s throat, and if he didn’t let go soon, Jon was going to pass out. Then he would bleed to death, and that would be it.
But now he had done something, and pissed Buddy off even worse, so he flinched and waited for the worst. He waited for the shot, or the feeling of the knife against his neck before it was slashed. When neither came, it was little comfort. Jon couldn’t get the darkness, the room, the smells and sounds, out of his mind. His neck hurt and his face burned like it was on fire.
“Please… Please, I swear, I won’t…” Jon murmured, gasping for breath, and still never feeling like he could get enough.
Liam glared at him, flipping on a lamp to examine the blood that trickled from his mouth.
“You know what? You don’t want my help? Fine. You’re on your own,” Liam said darkly, before stalking out of the living room and slamming his bedroom door.
--
Jonathan jerked awake, the gunshot he heard in his dream making his heart race. Making him sure he had just been there, even though he was here at the apartment, inexplicably tangled in cords from the video game console.
Shakily, he made his way back to his room. He moved slowly, quietly, before finally making it. Once inside the safety of his room, he closed the door and locked it, jut to be sure no one could get in. He went and tested his window. That, too, was locked tight.
Finally, he picked up his phone. After scrolling through the numbers several times, he settled on the one at the very top, highlighting Aaron’s name, and waiting.
--
Aaron was already awake, when his phone rang at just before three in the morning.
“Hey, Jon,” he greeted tiredly. “You can’t sleep either?” he guessed.
Jon was silent for a minute. “You’re okay,” he managed, still breathless. “You’re okay? Are you sure?” he asked.
“Whoa, Jon. Yeah, we’re all fine. Are you okay?” he asked. He had gotten phone calls like this from a few friends. Morgan a while back stuck in his mind. He knew the girls often comforted each other. Once, he’d taken a call from Legend himself. But none of the guys had ever called him. And certainly never Jonathan.
“Okay,” Jon gasped, trying to calm down. “I just thought… I was back there. Sorry.”
Aaron sat up. “No, dude. Don’t be sorry. Really. Happens to all of us.”
“Not to me,” Jon managed. “Not for a long time, and never this bad,” he said thickly as tears sprung to his eyes.
“Trust me. It’s okay. We’re all okay, and I can hang with you on the phone as long as you need. I was awake anyway. Kind of nice to have somebody to talk to actually. My own head gets kind of boring after a while.”
“…He cut me. He had his hands around my throat and wouldn’t stop,” Jon rasped.
Aaron was silent, listening, even after it was clear Jon had nothing else to share about his nightmare.
“It felt really real. Shit, I’m still shaking.”
“I have ones like that, too. I think we all do, at some point,” Aaron reassured. “I think it’s kind of normal, given what we went through, and Liam’s little tour before break.”
“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.” Jon rubbed a hand down the bad side of his face, cringing as he felt his scar. Despite all the good that had come out of the situation, the scar still made him feel ugly, and like less of a person. Especially after a nightmare like that one, where Buddy was right there, and seemed so real.
“I haven’t,” Aaron answered quietly. “Even though we were only in there a few minutes with Em. It was enough to mess me up ever since. My insomnia’s a nice side-effect, especially since all I wanted to do on break was sleep, and can’t even manage that.”
“…I think I punched Liam,” Jon remembered.
Aaron cackled loudly, heedless of the late hour, or his roommates who were sleeping soundly, as far as he knew. “Hey, he probably deserved it. Just look at it that way,” he said easily. “He had to have gotten into your face, right?”
“Yeah, probably,” Jon admitted. “Hey, thanks for talking…and for not making me feel like a total lame-ass for calling you like this.”
“If having a nightmare makes you a lame-ass, I think you’re in good company,” Aaron told him, relaxing against the pillow. Maybe, knowing he wasn’t so alone would help him get some rest.
“Maybe you’re right,” Jon allowed, and hung up, praying the rest of his night would be a peaceful one.
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