“What happened?” The words came out before Vanessa realized her mouth was open.

Trace sighed, but dragged the words out of his mouth all the same. “It’s nothing.. Important. The bar I worked at got busted for selling alcohol to underage drinkers, and college kids are like, a big part of our revenue, so… Money got tight. I thought if I could just, scrape by, I could at least make some of my rent, and look for another job, but…”

His voice grew tighter until it trailed off. He lifted a hand to press to his face, and Vanessa could see the thinness of his wrist, the jut of his ribs, even through Tony’s sweatshirt, two sizes too big for him. Vanessa rolled onto her side, lifting herself a little so she could still see. She reached a hand out to lay on his chest, and he opened his eyes, looking surprised as he looked back at her. She met his gaze, even, and watched as some final piece of him fell into place and felt at home.

“I don’t want you to ever put yourself through that again.”

“..What am I supposed to do?” He turned his head away, frustrated.

“Not starve yourself!”

She sat up fast enough to make him flinch, the moment gone, and she just sighed, sitting over him. She laid her hand back on his chest, thumb resting on the hard line of his sternum. Those days were far behind them, but Vanessa could still pick out his heart beating between his birdcage ribs.

“Stay with me. We can always feed you, and I don’t want to see you starving yourself because you think you haven’t earned eating. You deserve to live, Trace. You can get a job if you want but please, don’t worry about money.”

Trace sighed, but knew he wasn’t getting any further beating himself down with her in the way. He thought for a moment, eyes scanning the bedroom. A new topic came to mind easily; framed pictures of a sharp-smiling man gave him the answer.

“How’s your brother doing?”

“He’s doing okay.” She sighed and sat back, worry creasing her brow. “He drops by to visit sometimes. I think he got promoted to manager at his store? Long hours, but apparently the pay is pretty good. He’s… Good.”

Trace could sense the disquiet thoughts running through her head. Trace’s gaze softened a little, and he rested his hand over hers. She looked away, toward the window. She didn’t take in the sight of the burnt, dead lawn with robins picking at the worms, but it was a better place to look than the expression he was giving her. She could worry about him all she wanted, but god forbid he show the slightest concern for her. That was against the rules.

They sat together for another few moments. Eventually she took her hand away, pushing her hair back to rub the heel of her palm over her scars.

“I’m proud of him for getting out and getting a real job. Maybe someday, I will too.” Her boss had stopped asking if she was coming back months ago.

“Yeah… Job, fuck. I’ll head out and put out applications tomorrow, bright and early. What do you get up to, if you aren’t working..?” He was nervous about asking the question, head craning slightly to look up at her.

Vanessa was caught off-guard by the question, reaching up to adjust her hair a little. Trace caught the anxious gesture, and simply gave her a reassuring smile. “Me..? I… I don’t do anything. I just stay at home, unless I’m going to therapy, or physical therapy.”

“How’re those going?” He sat up a bit more comfortably, clearly giving her his full attention. Vanessa was pleased, but felt a bit out of place.

“Ehh… My physical therapist thinks I’m fine but it still hurts. She thinks it’s in my head, and I just need to exercise. Maybe it is, but it’s still there. It still keeps me up at night.” Vanessa looked away, unable to keep her exhaustion out of her voice.

Trace’s hand gently tightened in hers, and Vanessa realized with a start that he’d been holding her hand the entire time. The constant, disquiet ache in her joints had distracted her from the real placement of her limbs. She quickly lifted her hand away, tucking some of her curls back behind her ear.

“Anyways,” she started, “you should ask Wren if you can pick up a job with him. I’m sure he’d be happy to have a familiar face behind the counter.”

“Wren?” His brows knitted in confusion.

“Oh, yeah! Wren opened his own bakery- I have so much to catch you up on- at least, what I know about. Are you okay if I just like, ramble for a bit?”

A slow, relaxed smile spread over his face. Trace wanted nothing more than to listen to Vanessa talk for hours. “Yeah, of course.”

Trace settled back against the pillows, and Vanessa sat beside him, head resting against the headboard. Trace listened patiently as she caught him up on all of their friends, his head slowly lowering to rest on her shoulder. She was halfway through telling him about her blossoming friendship with Ruby when she heard a soft snore rise from him. She looked down, surprised, then smiled softly. She kept her body still, breath slow, and looked out the window.

Outside, the rain continued to drizzle against the windowpane, thin and speckled with light. An eastern phoebe sat on the telephone wire that ran to Vanessa’s house and whistled it’s low, grating rendition of a chickadee’s chirp. Past the empty lot on the other side of the road, the trees stood in a fragile blur, reaching naked limbs to an overcast sky that was finally beginning to break. Part of her heart was home.