“His name is Sean, in case you forgot,” I said.
Her mouth pulled into a line. “Shawn, Fynn, whatever.”
I inhaled slowly. “You wanted me to have someone. But you meant someone you picked—Vince, preferably. Not because hewas right for me, but because he fit your version of who I should be with.”
She held her precisely folded gloves. “At least he’s safe.”
“Heissafe. You’re still banking onhim? What’s going on?”
She didn’t answer.
I carried the laundry to my room, set the basket down, and dropped onto the bed. Eyes closed, I massaged my temples, as if I could scrub my mom out of my life with my fingers.
This house…
My eyes popped open. The sloped ceiling I used to love, the late sun still painting gold across the carpet—it all pressed in now. Familiar but suffocating, as if the walls had memorized every version of me I’d tried to outgrow.
A cage disguised as home. And I couldn’t leave. Not yet.
At least he’s safe.
The words echoed like a verdict.Safewasn’t comfort, it was a cage, and I didn’t want it. How is falling for someone supposed to be small, predictable, preapproved?
I reached for my phone. No texts. I hadn’t expected one, but I still wanted to squeeze something out of the silence. It wouldn’t fix anything, but maybe it could be a tiny escape hatch from the suffocatingsafe.
Sam had taken off earlier to run errands, groceries probably, or another Goodwill run, her pre-move-nesting ritual. She was about to start a new chapter: new city, new people. I was here, trying not to drown in financial ruin and passive-aggressive garden-glove commentary.
Erica and I had a video chat tomorrow. She wanted a full recap of the graduation party. Meanwhile, I had to figure out how to stay sane in this house. I’d planned to watch the game from home, but the thought made my skin itch. I searched:Where to watch NHL games in Sacramento tonight?
The answers: bars.
A sports bar? For a girl who used to barely know a puck from a pancake? Apparently, yes.
I texted Sam.
Me:Hey, are you okay?
Sam:Yep. What’s up?
Me:Wanna go to a bar with me to watch hockey?
Sam:Damn, Mel. That new job’s rubbing off fast.\*puck emoji\*
Me:Oh Yeah! I’m all in\*champagne emoji\*It’s nice to feel excited about hockey. Wanna tag along?
Sam:Can’t miss it!
We left the house in bar-appropriate outfits—jeans, cute tops, light makeup, hair down, casual flats. Matching Tahoe West jerseys would've been perfect, but we didn’t have any.
“Since we’re doing this, let’s make it count,” Sam said as we parked downtown.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we’re picking a fancy, hype bar. This is probably my only fun until I come out of prison in three years.”
I glanced at her, catching the shift in her tone. “You’re so smart, Sam. Residency will fly by, and before you know it, it’ll be over.”
Her breath hitched. “It’s just… this is the first time I’ll live this far from everything I’ve known my whole life.”
