(TSSFH) CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE: TAYLOR

Taylor sat on the edge of her bed, arms looped loosely around her knees, and let the silence stretch. The last few days had been… strange. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. Instead, it was the kind of middle ground she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Her dad still looked at her sometimes like he expected her to vanish, or like a single wrong word could shatter the fragile peace they’d begun to rebuild. But the awkwardness was gone. He asked her about her day, about her patrols, about Brian, and she answered without flinching or deflecting. For the first time since her mom’s death, the words didn’t taste like lies.

Brian.

That was another layer she was still coming to terms with. They were officially dating now. Holding hands wasn’t a rare accident anymore, and leaning against him didn’t leave her bracing for rejection. It was good, even comforting at times, though Taylor couldn’t help but see the cracks: Brian’s caution, her own inability to fully trust, and the heavy responsibilities they both carried but rarely named aloud. Maybe that was why it worked at all. They were stitched together by flaws, bound by the quiet understanding that they were both just doing their best to keep going.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and warmth.

Rachel had woken up. That should have been uncomplicated relief—joy, even—but nothing was ever that simple. With the surviving heroes stretched thin, struggling to maintain the shaky peace Superman’s presence had enforced since Eidolon’s fall, there’d been no one left to keep Rachel from slipping away. And of course, once she had regained enough strength, she’d fought her way out of her restraints.

Taylor hadn’t been surprised.

She wasn't even worried because she knew Rachel better than most. And the girl wouldn't go looking for trouble unless it had four legs, a tail, and could bark. So when the morning news broke about Hellhound storming an Empire Eighty-Eight dog-fighting ring, with Superman of all people at her side, Taylor had just… nodded. It made sense.

She felt proud, even a little relieved. Rachel had always been bluntly, painfully honest, more so than the rest of them. And now? The city’s dog lovers were calling her a hero, and after everything Rachel had endured, she deserved that small scrap of love.

Still, the feeling was tempered. Because while Rachel was back on her feet, Lisa was still unconscious.

Taylor hated thinking about it, but the truth was impossible to ignore: the damage Eidolon’s fall had dealt to capes was random. Alec had died in an instant, leaving Aisha hollow-eyed and spending every waking hour by his grave. Taylor and Brian had stumbled, briefly hurt, but recovered soon after. Rachel had eventually clawed her way back to consciousness. 

And Lisa… Lisa hadn’t opened her eyes.

Taylor had talked it through with Brian, with her dad, and even with Aisha when she appeared long enough to join them. They’d agreed to wait. A few more weeks, they’d said. Then, if nothing changed, there would be… conversations. The kind no one wanted to have.

Taylor wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t sure she ever could be.

Because despite everything—despite the manipulations, the lies, the compulsion Lisa had to stay three steps ahead of everyone—she had been the first real friend Taylor had after Emma’s betrayal. Lisa had reached out when Taylor was at her lowest, had looked at her and said, I see you. You matter.

She missed her. God, she missed her.

Taylor pressed her forehead to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut, and—just for a moment—allowed herself to feel the loss all over again.