I go, obviously. I don’t have a choice, lest I be smote. I sit on a stool like I’ve been put in time-out and watch Izzy as she shrinks back to human size, getting soft, gesticulating wildly on the phone.
Finally, seemingly hours later, she hangs up the phone, looking satisfied.
But then her head swivels slowly towards me.
Oh shit.
Izzy stomps over, a corridor of ominous clouds and wrath opening in her wake. She stops just short of me, eyes sharp enough to draw blood. “You didn’t believe her?” she hisses.
“I—” The word crumbles in my mouth.
“She told you she didn’t tell anyone about you. And she stood up in front of everyone and said something no one else had the courage to say, and you—you didn’t believe her?” Izzy’s voice breaks. “Shestood up for you. Shedefendedyou. And you stood there anddidn’t believe her?” she shrieks.
I step toward her. “I panicked. I didn’t—I thought—I didn’t know what to think. It all hit at once, and I was scared?—”
“No,” she snaps. “No. You don’t get to play scared. You’re the one who was supposed to make her feelsafe.”
This is what destroys me. I stumble back a step, winded. ‘Cause, fuck.Fuck. I was so busy being a selfish coward, thinking Annie was the strong one, that I forgot I was doing the same damn thing. Me and my fuckin’ hoodie that she used as fuckin’ armor—we were supposed to protect her, too.
And I let her down.
“She pickedyou. She let herself believe that you were different, and the moment she needed you most, you made her feel like she was alone.”
She let me in. I forgot I was letting her in, too.
“She told me not to talk to you,” Izzy says, crossing her arms, still breathless with fury. “She didn’t want to make you feel bad. Can you believe that?”
I try to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Annie’s on a train back to the city. Alone. She was crying so hard initially I could barely understand her. Saying she should’ve known better than to expect someone to stay. That it was stupid to think you’d still be there once things got real.”
My throat closes. “She’s wrong.”
Her lip curls. “Looks like she was right.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She crosses her arms. Her voice changes, quieter now, dead cold. “She says to thank you for the ride.”
Every single one of those words slices me open.
“She said she’ll send you your manuscript through your agent.”
Have I been stabbed? “Was she—is she okay?”
Izzy doesn’t answer right away. Her jaw works. She looks away.
“Izzy,” I whisper.
“She will be,” Izzy says, jaw tight. “Because Annie always finds a way to survive. You think this is the first time she’s had to pick herself up after someone let her down?”
I flinch.
“You know, if there’s any good in this, it’s that she’s not spiraling because she thinks she’s not good enough for you,” Izzy says. “She’s spiraling becauseyouweren’t good enough to stand besideher. She asked for something honest and real. She asked for someone who wouldn’t leave the second things got messy. And you proved her right—about everyone.”
I drop onto the stool behind me like gravity suddenly doubled.
“She told me not to tell you this,” she repeats, “But she loves you, Nico,” she says, and it’s not gentle. It’s a punch directly into my gut. “She loves you, and you broke her heart. She was finally starting to believe she didn’t have to go through life being the one who takes the hits. She thought maybe this time, someone would stand in front of her.”
