The phone doesn’t ring all night. I text Jarett before I fall asleep, and again the moment I wake up, asking him if he found Sebastian.

Then, when he still doesn’t reply, I call him.

It goes to voicemail.

I’m starting to get really worried all over again, remembering the blankness of his expression, the stiffness of his body, all the pain he was obviously keeping inside.

What happened last night? I hope he hasn’t done anything stupid, anything irreversible.

Throwing on clothes, I hurry downstairs, thinking to head out and find him.

But where? He has no reason to be at the nursing home anymore. When is his mom’s funeral? Who might know?

“Morning, sis.” Merc is slathering a thick slice of bread with peanut butter and jelly, his eyes on the TV that’s showing the news, the volume on low. He glances at me. “What’s jumping?”

“I’m worried about Jarett.”

“You’re always worried about him.” He puts down the knife and takes a huge bite out of the bread. He frowns as he chews, looking like an oversized blond squirrel. “Wait, you’re really worried this time. Did something happen?”

“I don’t know.” I perch on the edge of the table. “He left last night to find Sebastian, his sort of adopted brother?”

“The douchebag, you mean?”

“That’s the one. To tell him about his mom passing, and the funeral. It’s today, and I haven’t heard back from Rett yet.”

“So?”

“So I have a bad feeling.”

“Practicing voodoo lately?”

“Very funny.” My stomach is all twisted up. “I just do.”

“Okay.” He puts down the bread. “And you don’t know where he’s supposed to be?”

He’s supposed to be here, with me.

“No idea. I don’t know where he’d find Sebastian. Where the gang meets? Another place? A bar or—”

“Stop. Look at this.” He grabs the remote and jacks up the TV volume. “Jesus Christ…”

Breaking news. Gang members arrested, big drug deal stopped. Shoot-out between two opposing gangs. Many people killed.

“That’s nothing to do with Jarett,” I say, my voice shaky. “It can’t.”

But my stomach twists again. I think I’m going to be sick.

When my phone rings, I jump.

“Jesus,” Merc whispers.

It’s Jarett. I connect the call, relieved. “Rett!”

“Gigi.” He sounds distant, his voice empty and exhausted. “They said I could call. You’re the only person… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” I bend over, my head spinning. “What do you mean? Where are you?”

I’m vaguely aware of Merc coming to stand in front of me, a frown on his face.

“Police station. They’re holding me for interrogation about the… about the shooting.” His voice dips so I hardly make out the words. “Last night. Seb’s dead, Gigi.”

“Oh shit, no. No.” I glance at the TV where the news is still playing, with images of a warehouse and yellow police tape. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

He doesn’t reply for a long moment, and I’m getting scared the line was cut, until I hear him breathing.

“I’m okay,” he says eventually. “I didn’t go in until after it was all over. Seb texted me. Said it was a trap. And I failed. Failed him.”

“No. Stop.” I want to shake him. I want to hug him. And I can’t wrap my head around the fact that Seb, who was such an asshole, saved Jarett from death. Nothing is ever black and white, is it? “What Seb was involved in wasn’t your fault.”

“I told him not to go. I told him to get out. I fucking tried.”

“Yes, you did.” I close my eyes, tell myself not to fall apart now. “You were the best brother to him, Rett. He couldn’t have asked for a better one.”

He says nothing.

“You’re alive, Rett. And life goes on. You’ll be out in no time. They don’t have anything on you, do they? I’ll come find you the moment they let you go.”

“You don’t have to. Nobody has to do that for me.”

“I’ll be there because I want to.” I swallow hard. “You’re my family, too.”

“No, Gigi,” he whispers. “You can’t. Everyone who takes me in dies.”

“I don’t want to adopt you, Jarett. I want to be with you.”

His breath hitches. “Why the hell would you still want that?”

“That’s easy. Because I know you were looking after your brother. That you didn’t sell drugs, or kill anyone. Because I trust you. Because I love you.”

And as I speak the words, I know that no matter what, they’re true.

* * *

Finding out from the nursing home where Becky Lowe’s funeral is being held is easy. We attend the service and then stand at her grave, me, Merc, Mom and her boyfriend, all of us dressed in somber black, silent.

It’s the least we could do. After all, Becky was Mom’s friend, and she was Jarett’s mom in all but name.

I tell him that the next time we talk on the phone and listen to him try not to cry. He’s still in jail. I’d been hoping they’d find nothing on him, but as it turns out, they have.

He had a Glock on him that night of the shooting, an illegal piece with the serial numbers filed down. Jarett says that Angel, one of the now dead heads of the gang, gave it to him. And that was enough, it seems, to get him on federal gun and conspiracy charges. To avoid trial, to avoid going to prison for a decade, they pushed him to plead guilty.

So he did, took the plea bargain and got twelve months instead.

Still. A year. A frigging year.

And I still haven’t been allowed to go in and see him, although I went and dropped off some of his clothes.

“How can they leave him in jail when his mom and brother just died?” I mutter, rocking Bean in my arms. We’re at Matt and Octavia’s house, visiting. The baby makes gurgling noises, and I smile in spite of the sadness that’s been riding me ever since Jarett was arrested. “That’s inhuman.”

My sister puts down her mug of tea. “Gigi. He was involved in bad shit. They can’t ignore that.”

I inhale the baby’s scent, baby powder and sugar, letting it soothe me. “I have to see him.”

“But you can’t. Not while he’s in jail.”

“I know!” There’s a lump in my throat. “I know. But it’s not fair. He was only trying to keep his brother alive.”

The baby shakes his tiny fists at me and whimpers.

“Gigi…” Matt gets up from the carpet where he’s been helping his kids build a complicated toy railway, complete with trees and stations and small towns, and comes to me, opening his arms.

Half-blinded by tears, I pass the baby over to him and turn away, wiping furiously at my eyes.

“Oh, Gigi,” my sister, whispers, getting up too. “I know you love that boy. Be patient. Come here.”

I turn into her arms and hold on tightly. “You believe him. You believe he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He did plenty wrong. But maybe not the really bad stuff. And he had good intentions. But even the best intentions don’t erase the fact he was in that gang, he was there when they robbed stores and dealt drugs.”

“He looked out for me. For Sydney. For everyone.”

“He’s a good guy. Okay? I know.” She rubs my back. “This isn’t the end of the world, sis. He isn’t dead, which is more than can be said for his gang. He’s alive, and he’ll be out of prison one day soon.”

But I miss him, so badly. And not being there to comfort him is killing me. How would I feel if I’d been through everything he has? How would I have reacted, what would I have done to protect my family?

He’s the strongest person I know, but I’m so scared he’ll give up—on me, on himself, on life. He’s just a number in the system now, a mistake to be corrected.

And he’s everything to me.

* * *

The sentencing hearing is over. A year behind bars.

Jarett is getting transferred to prison today, and I swear, I’m getting an ulcer from all this. I haven’t been able to talk to him in days, not since the trial, and that time he’d sounded so defeated it broke my heart all over again.

I’m trying to see the positive in this, but it’s hard. He’s not in the gang anymore, sure, but won’t prison life destroy him? You hear all sorts of things, about drugs and rape and violence. He doesn’t have to keep his promise to his mom about taking care of Sebastian anymore, but does he feel he has something left to live, to fight for?

Does he think of me? Does he want to come back to me? Will he be okay?

Will he be the Jarett I know when he’s released?

Truth is, the only plus I can see is that I can visit him now. Prisoners get visiting hours.

And I’ll be there.

Small consolation, but every little good thing seems huge right now. Seeing him is all I can think about. I have filled out the inmate visitor application, I have been approved.

Soon, I’ll see him, maybe touch him, if they allow it.

I feel as if I’m not really alive without him. Every minute spent away from him hurts. Everything I want to share with him, every joke and every song, feels like a burden now.

At least, Sydney looks better. I’d ask her about Kash, but I can’t pretend to care right now, not when I feel like my whole world is caving in.

“Chin up,” Sydney tells me. “Didn’t you just tell me you’ll be seeing him tomorrow? I thought you’d be happy.”

“I am. But I’m also afraid. Of what he’ll say. Of how he’s changed. What he thinks. What he feels.”

Her mouth turns down at the corners. “Oh man. You really are in love.”

“I thought you said it was obvious.”

“It was.” She hums, hiding behind her coffee mug. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen a person in love before. Like, really in love, the sort where you pine away and live for the next time you’ll see them.”

My hands fist in my lap. “I’m not pining away.”

“No?” She perks up. “Then maybe you’ll come with me tonight? There’s this—”

“No.”

She slumps back in her seat. “You need to start living again, Gigi.”

I flinch at her words. “I’m living, I’m—”

“No, you’re not. You flunked your last test. You’re not studying. Or partying. Or eating much. You never smile anymore.”

“I’m sad, okay? What do you want me to say? Plus, you told me you were done going to bars and parties, getting yourself into danger.”

“I never said that.” She looks away, mouth going tight. “I only said I haven’t found Kash yet. Not that I’ve given up.”

I swallow hard. “In any case… How could I party when Jarett is behind bars?”

“A year, girl. He’ll be away for a year.” She shrugs, turning back to me. “Think of it as a year abroad where he had to go for work. And you’re here. Still alive. Still studying, and living. Waiting for him, but living. See the difference?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“He’d want you alive and well when he’d come back, right? From his trip. Or prison. And you’d do well to be strong, inside, for the months to come, and for when he’s out, free to be with you again. Get it?” She taps the side of her head, her eyes bright.

I nod and swear to myself I won’t cry again. I’ve done it way too much in the past days and weeks.

“He will be released. He will be with you. If you don’t run yourself to the ground, if you’re strong enough for both of you.” Sydney smiles at me. “And you can be. You are. I know you. You’re a supergirl, Augusta Watson. If you love him, if he’s worth waiting for, then you can do it. Show the world that you can.”

She’s right. If she can do this—waiting, searching, believing in someone she loves—then so can I. I will do this. For him. For myself.

I just hope he’ll keep fighting, too.

* * *

Inside the prison visitor center, it’s all white and blue, with a long table and chairs. It feels like a hospital, of sorts.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. I’ve already passed through security control. I scan the room for Jarett, but can’t find any familiar face staring back at me.

I don’t know what I’d expected. A smaller room? Jarett waiting for me?

Unsure what to do next, I sink down in one of the chairs and fold my hands on top of the table. I’m in the right place.

Be strong, Sydney said. Okay.

Deep breaths.

Then he enters, and I shoot back up to my feet, my heart racing. It’s him. He’s in a gray prison uniform, and his dark hair is cut close to his scalp. He looks thinner, pale, but his eyes light up when he sees me.

He starts toward me and I run into his arms. “Gigi,” he whispers, his arms wrapping around me so hard I can’t breathe. “God, Gigi.”

I’m drowning. He’s my lifeline. He’s here. He’s okay.

How did I live in the past without him? I can’t remember. I don’t think I can part from him again.

“Gigi, we can’t,” Jarett says, gently prying me off him. “It’s not allowed.”

What?

A guard moves toward us, a frown on his face.

“We can’t hug.” Jarett leads me to the table, sits me down and sits across from me. “But we can hold hands.”

His long, strong fingers curl around mine.

Our hands, on the table between us, together.

A knot.

A bond.

“Are you all right?” I ask. So many things I want to ask him. “Are they treating you okay?”

“I’m okay.” He gives me a faint smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“I told you I’d be here.”

His chin dips, and his lashes brush low, over his cheekbones. “I wasn’t sure you meant it.”

I grip his hand more tightly, locking gazes with him. “I meant everything.”

He swallows hard. “Listen. I made many mistakes. Broke the law. Didn’t think of the consequences. It’s only fair that I’m here. But you… I can’t ask you to wait for me. A year in prison…”

“Jarett—”

“But I’ll ask you anyway,” he rushes on, and small flames seem to burn in the cores of his eyes. “I’ll ask you. Please.”

“You don’t need to ask. I’ll wait for you.” Tears burn my eyes, but I smile at him. “Don’t you see? I’ve waited for you all my life.”

I’d wait in this life, and in the next one, too.