“Try five.”
My eyebrows shoot to the top of my forehead. “What the actual fuck.”
“I know.”
“That’s a story I’d really like to hear, but honestly, my brain can’t handle any more new information at the moment. Ask him to come in. And if he can start tomorrow.”
She gives me a small smile. “Will do.”
I stop randomly grabbing bottles as soon as I realize I don’t even know how many arrangements I need to assemble. Pulling up the schedule Lucy has neatly organized, I start to make sense of what needs to get done. We’re so busy prepping for the week and chatting with the handful of customers who pop in to check out the shop that I don’t have time to think. Which is a welcome blessing since I know once I open the door to any thoughts of Jack, I’m going to fall down the rabbit hole, and quite frankly, I can’t afford to do that at the moment. I don’t see him forgiving me, because why would he, and I’m going to need the shop to flourish so I can actually afford a place to live.
It’s late evening by the time I have all the vessels and blooms for tomorrow’s orders ready to go. Lucy’s brother, Jason, came in right after lunch, charming me instantly with his easy smile and warm brown eyes. We get his tax forms filled out and run him through the basics of delivery protocol, and he promises to be in the shop tomorrow afternoon.
I lock the front door, give Lucy a quick wave, and head to the brownstone. I haven’t made it two steps before reality comes crashingback down on my brain. And my heart. The events from the party flip through my mind, and while the tears come immediately, I manage to blink them away, low-key afraid they might freeze on my cheeks in the biting late January night air.
But when I turn the corner and see three people lounging on my front stoop, the tears spill over. I press my hands to my eyeballs, but all that does is soak my mittens.
Harley takes my keys from me, opening the door and guiding me into the dining room. We all shuck our winter gear before collapsing at the farm table. Well, I collapse; they all sit like normal human beings.
“Is this some sort of intervention?” I rub my temples, hoping to ease some of the tension brought on by my sudden crying jag.
“Yes,” says Gemma from the seat on my right.
“No.” Harley puts her arm around me from the spot on my left. “This is not an intervention. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“It’s also kind of an intervention.” Gemma gives Harley a fierce look.
I turn my attention to Nick. “Did he tell you what I said?”
“No. Not for lack of my trying. All he told me was you guys had a fight and he was going to get some space at his parents’ house.”
Leave it to Jack to protect me even after I was a monster.
“Did he tell you how he lied to me?” I clearly do not feel the need to reciprocate said protection. Because hello, monster.
“He did tell me that, yes. And I told Gem and Harley, so we’re all caught up there.” Nick crosses his arms, leaning on the table.
“But we’d kind of prefer to stay out of that aspect of this whole thing,” Harley says quietly. “Jack lied, and he has his reasons, and whatever you’re feeling about it is justified. But that’s between the two of you.”
The intervention starts making more sense. “Ah. So you guys are here to take me to task for the truly disgusting thing I said to him. Even not knowing what I said, you know me well enough to know it was bottom-level shit. Because of course, Jack’s the perfect boyfriend, and I’m a garbage human and I totally fucked it all up because that’s what I do.”
All three of them stare at me silently. Gemma glares like she’s angry. Nick’s mouth hangs slightly open in shock. Harley has a light sheen of tears in her eyes.
“You don’t need to tell me how truly awful I am, guys. I already know.” The words come out, but just barely.
Gemma clears her throat. “We know nothing of the sort. And quite frankly, we could refute your totally bananas, couldn’t-be-more-wrong opinions of yourself. We could list all the ways you help us and care for us, we can sing your praises until the cows come home, but it’ll never be enough.”
I open my mouth, but Harley cuts me off. “We love you, Sadie. And we think you’re kind, and thoughtful, and caring, and generous. But nothing we say can undo years and years of abuse, hon.”
Her words are stark and honest and they punch me in the gut. I struggle to catch my breath, even as the tears build back up.
“What she’s saying is, it’s time to go back to therapy.” Gemma reaches out and takes my hand in hers.
And this voluntary physical touch, this show of comfort from her, clicks together a lot of pieces in my brain. “I thought I was healed.” I squeeze Gemma’s hand, staring at our clasped fingers so I don’t have to look any of them in the eye. “I did the work and shared my feelings and got a degree and a job and made some money, and none of you abandoned me, and I thought I was all better.”
Harley scoots closer to me, wrapping me in her arms as I break down completely. She strokes my hair as I soak her sweater, never once letting go of Gemma’s hand. When I feel a large hand rubbing slow circles on my back, I know Nick is behind me as well.
My sobs subside, slowly, but they kick up again when three sets of arms fully engulf me. Eventually, I’ve drained myself of tears. Without a word, Gemma moves into the kitchen while Harley guides me upstairs and into the shower. When I step out of the steaming water, I find a clean pair of pajamas sitting on the counter. I dress and duck into my room before heading downstairs, pulling on the Captain America hoodie as I walk.
