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It's tempting. So, so tempting. For a moment, just a moment, I imagine doing just that. I shake my head. "I can't, Maggie. I'm sorry."

Maggie's lips flatten, pull in. She looks resigned. "You can't take on an entire cartel."

She's right. I know that. It's been two weeks since Pete was killed, and I still need the same thing: time to think. Dejected, I nod. "I know."

"How are you getting back to…" Maggie asks, drifting off. To Gabe, she meant.

"I've got a… friend waiting for me."

"I'll walk with you." She opens the door. We step underneath a large Palo Verde tree, the branches providing some shade.

I can see Brick in the Escalade, but Maggie seems to want to say more.

"Was he scared?" Maggie asks, holding my elbows.

I can't lie to her. I nod. "I think more for me than himself," I add, wanting to make him sound brave. He deserves that.

She nods. "Yes, that was him. Always brave." A sad smile tugs on her lips.

Silence settles between us. Heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just… full. A car passes slowly down the street, tires whispering over sun-warmed asphalt. Somewhere nearby, a wind chimeclinks lazily, caught in a breeze that barely reaches us under the shade of the Palo Verde tree. Yellow blossoms drift down every now and then, dotting the dry ground like confetti no one bothered to clean up. Across the street, a bird flutters in and out of a tall saguaro cactus, disappearing into one of the hollowed nesting holes. Life. Quiet. Unbothered. Normal. The kind of normal that feels almost offensive right now.

Maggie shifts beside me, and her shoulder brushes mine, warm and familiar. For a moment, I remember what it felt like to belong somewhere that made sense. Before everything got… complicated.

She clears her throat, glances at me again. Something uncertain flickers across her face.

"Now that he's gone…" she starts, then hesitates. My stomach tightens with dread. Sometimes you can just feel it before your world tilts. This is one of those moments. "I guess I can finally ask you."

A cold thread slips down my spine, and I almost want to plead,no, please don't. "Ask me what?"

"He made me promise not to bring it up," she says quickly. "Said it wasn't my place. That it would just make you feel worse."

My pulse starts to pick up. "Maggie…"

"But I want you to know something," she continues, softer now. "Mom and I—we never blamed you."

My breath catches.

"For what?" I ask, already feeling the ground shift under my feet.

She frowns slightly. "For Pete's vasectomy."

The world tilts. "What?"

The word cracks out of me. Her expression turns gentle. Sympathetic. What the actual hell?

"What are you talking about?" I ask again, but my voice sounds far away. Not mine.

"It's okay," she says, reaching for my arm. "Really. We understood."

Understood what?

"I always felt so bad for you," she continues. "Pete told us what the doctors said. That your body… wouldn't be able to carry a pregnancy safely." My heart stutters. Stops. Starts again—too fast. Oblivious, Maggie keeps going, "He told us that your body wouldn't survive a pregnancy," she adds quietly. "That if you got pregnant, it could go wrong. Fast. That it could… kill you."

A roaring fills my ears. No. No, that's not?—

"That's why he did it," she continues gently. "He didn't want to risk you. And he made us promise not to say anything. He didn't want to embarrass you. He said it would embarrass you. That's so silly, as if it were your fault. But I want you to know that Mom and I always loved you. You were so good for him."

I stare at her. I don't blink. I don't breathe. Because none of this, it's not real. It can't be.