Noah sat in his bedroom. He watched as the sunlight shined on Elle's peaceful face. She'd been discharged last night and when they'd gotten home she collapsed on his bed. Noah was holding a community colleague acceptance letter. It was twenty minute away from his house. And he could be home whenever he needed to be. He hadn't told Elle yet. But he was going to. He'd been keeping a safe, respectable distance from Elle. She'd been through so much he didn't want to overwhelm her. And from what he could tell, she appreciated it. She'd said before she was past her pain, but he watched as the cops had surrounded her, asking her questions, she'd almost shrunk back into her hospital bed. He'd known she wasn't ready, and refused to make a move until she was. Elle rolled over to the shady side of the bed. The crisp early morning air blew through the open balcony doors into Elle's hair. He studied her face. The curve of her lips. The softness of her cheeks. The way her eyelashes cast shadows over her skin. Lee had been discharged too, but Rachel remained in the hospital. She wasn't injured, but she was sick. Noah didn't know what was wrong, but he had hope. Hope that Rachel would be alright, hope that Elle would recover and feel safe again. He had hope, and maybe that was all he needed, maybe hope was the only way out. The only way to feel safe, the only way to move on, was hope.