“Forever, then.”
“Forever sounds good to me.”
The first Tuesday after the investigation closed, Garrett arrived at Rosy’s Diner at 7:15 as always.
But today was different.
Today, Sadie wasn’t alone.
She burst through the door at 7:30 with Marlene behind her, both of them grinning like they had won the lottery.
They slid into the booth across from Garrett, Sadie practically vibrating with excitement.
“Aunt Marlene took the morning off! She wanted to have breakfast with us.”
Marlene smiled, looking more relaxed than Garrett had ever seen her.
“I figured it was time I saw what all the fuss was about. These famous Tuesday pancakes.”
Donna appeared with menus and a knowing smile.
“The usual?”
“The usual,” Sadie confirmed. “But extra bacon for Aunt Marlene. She never eats enough bacon.”
They ordered.
They ate.
They talked about ordinary things, school, work, the weather, plans for the summer.
The kind of conversation families have over breakfast when the world isn’t ending and the future feels possible.
Halfway through the meal, Sadie reached into her backpack and pulled out something small.
A photograph in a handmade frame.
The frame was covered in glitter and stickers, clearly the work of an eight-year-old with access to craft supplies and strong opinions about decoration.
But the photograph inside was perfect.
It showed Garrett and Sadie at that very booth, taken by Marlene a few weeks earlier during one of their regular breakfasts.
Garrett was smiling.
Really smiling.
Not the guarded expression he usually wore, but genuine happiness.
Sadie grinned up at him, pancake syrup visible on her cheek.
“I made this for you,” Sadie said. “For your wallet. So you can remember me when you’re not here.”
Garrett took the frame carefully.
“Sadie, I don’t need a picture to remember you. You’re with me all the time.”
“I know, but now I’m with you officially.”
She pointed at the frame.
“That’s us. That’s our friendship. Whenever you look at it, you’ll remember that you have a family, that you’re not alone anymore.”
Garrett looked at the photograph for a long moment.
Then he opened his wallet and carefully removed the crumpled dollar bill and the old photo of his brother Jimmy.
He tucked Sadie’s framed picture in beside them.
“There,” he said. “The three most important things I own, all together.”
Sadie beamed.
“What’s the third thing?”
“The dollar. Your dollar. The one you gave me that first day.”
“I’ve kept it ever since.”
Sadie’s eyes went wide.
“You still have it after all this time?”
“It reminds me.”
Garrett’s voice was rough with emotion.
“It reminds me there’s still kindness in the world. That someone saw me as human when everyone else saw a monster.”
“That the smallest gesture can change everything.”
Marlene reached across the table and placed her hand over Garrett’s.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything.”
“For seeing Sadie when other people looked through her. For helping us when you didn’t have to. For being exactly who she needed when she needed it most.”
“She saved me, too,” Garrett said. “She just doesn’t know it.”
“I know it,” Sadie said firmly. “We saved each other.”
“That’s how it works.”