Page 138 of Joker

We talk a little longer after that. Nothing huge. Nothing life-altering. Just enough to stitch something back together between us.

He asks if Lexi’s still carrying Bunny everywhere. I tell him yes, obviously. He says he misses her. I tell him she misses him too. He tells me he’s still working angles, still trying to figure out something more permanent, something safer long-term.

That part makes my stomach tighten again. Because long-term used to feel like a concept.

Now it feels like something with Joker in it. And that changes the shape of everything.

Eventually, the conversation slows. Neither of us wanting to hang up first.

My dad breaks the silence in the end. “I love you, baby girl.”

The words hit me straight in the chest.

Fresh. Tender. Almost unbearable.

“I love you too.”

Another beat.

Then, more quietly, “And Raven?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t ever have to earn your way back to me. You hear me?”

That one hurts. Because some part of me absolutely thought I did. Still thinks I might.

I swallow hard and force the words out around the ache in my throat. “I hear you.”

“Good.” He hesitates. Then, because apparently no one in my life is interested in preserving my emotional stability tonight, he adds, “Tell that boy if he screws this up, I’ll bury him where no one can find him.”

Joker lets out a low huff of laughter beside me.

I actually laugh too. A real one this time. The sound shakes a little. Still real.

“I’ll pass it along,” I tell him.

“You better.”

And then the line clicks dead.

I sit there for a second after the call ends, staring at the dark little screen in my hand like it might still somehow hold the shape of my father’s voice inside it.

The room is quiet around us. Not empty. Full. Heavy. The kind of silence that comes after something important has shifted and both people in the room know it.

I don’t realize I’m crying again until Joker takes the burner gently from my hand and sets it on the nightstand. Then he turns back toward me.

Not speaking. Not asking. Just looking.

And because I am apparently at the end of every defense I had left tonight, I turn and crawl straight into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His hands come to me instantly. One at my back. One low on my hip. Holding without trapping.

Steady. Safe.

I press my face into the side of his neck and let out one shaky breath after another until my chest stops feeling like it’s going to split open.

Joker’s mouth brushes my temple once. Then his cheek rests against my hair.