Emily stirred against me, lifting her head just enough to find Mia in the dim light.
“Can you call the girls?” Her voice was raw. “I need to... I want to talk to everyone.”
Mia’s expression shifted, something like relief flickering across her face. “Of course. I’ll get them here.”
She disappeared down the hallway, phone already in hand, and I pressed a kiss to Emily’s hair.
“That was brave,” I murmured.
She didn’t respond, just settled back against me.
One by one, they arrived.
Cassidy came first, slipping through the front door with Poppy right behind her. Then Hannah. Annie and Samara came together, then Maya emerged from somewhere deeper in the house.
None of them made a fuss. No loud gasps or demands for explanation. They just filtered into the living room like they’d done this before, like they had some unspoken protocol for moments when one of their own was falling apart.
They filled the empty spaces in the room, settling on the floor and the edges of the sectional until they formed a protective circle around us.
Next, a giant Doberman padded in, ignoring everyone else in the room to focus entirely on Emily.
“Oh, hey, Pickles.” Emily shifted, sliding off my lap to sit on the cushion beside me. I kept my arm draped around her shoulders, keeping her close, as she leaned forward. The dog sat down right at her feet, his dark eyes soulful, and rested his chin gently on her knee. Her hand drifted down to touch his velvety ears and he let out a dramatic sigh, pressing closer.
The silence stretched, patient and waiting. No one pushed. No one demanded answers. They just sat there, a quiet wall of solidarity, giving Emily the space to find her words.
When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse. “I need to tell you guys something.”
She sat up slowly, my arm still around her shoulders, and looked at the faces of her closest friends. In the dim light, their expressions were soft, open, ready to receive whatever she needed to give them.
“All of it,” she said. “I need to tell you all of it.”
She started with the pageants, pouring out the truth about her mother’s obsession and her father’s silence. She told them how food was weaponized and approval withheld, describing thecold darkness of the garden shed where she was locked away for failing to perform. Then the darkest part. The day she broke. The razor and the scars she’d hidden for over a decade.
She told them about the scholarship rejection, and about dinner at her parents’ house, and about the words she’d finally hurled at her mother after years of swallowing them down.
I kept my arm around her the whole time, a steady pressure against her back. Every now and then, her voice would waver and she’d pause, and I’d squeeze gently, just to remind her I was there. That she wasn’t alone in this.
The room was thick with emotion by the time she finished. Poppy was crying openly, tears streaming down her cheeks. Hannah’s jaw clenched so tight the muscles jumped, her eyes suspiciously bright. Cassidy had gone pale, her hand pressed over her mouth. The twins were holding onto each other, Samara’s face buried in Annie’s shoulder.
Maya was the first to speak, her voice rough. “Em. Jesus. I wish you felt you could tell us.”
“I couldn’t.” Emily’s voice cracked. “I was so ashamed. I thought if you knew how broken I was, you’d...”
“We’d what?” Mia moved to kneel in front of her, taking both of Emily’s hands in hers. Tears tracked down her cheeks but she didn’t bother wiping them away. “Love you less? No fucking way.”
“She’s right.” Hannah’s voice was thick. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re stuck with us, McIntyre. Broken bits and all.”
“We love you,” Poppy said fiercely, still crying. “All of you. Every single piece.”
Emily was crying again, but these tears were different. Softer. The kind that came with release instead of despair.
Pickles had climbed halfway onto the couch now, his front paws on Emily’s lap, his big brown eyes gazing up at her like shewas the only person in the world who mattered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his fur, and the dog just let her, tail wagging slowly.
I stayed where I was, Emily tucked against my side, and watched her friends love her through the aftermath.
Someone made tea. Someone else got chocolate. The tight knot of crisis gradually loosened into something gentler, the women settling into their natural rhythm of quiet support and easy presence.
At one point, Annie whispered something low that I didn’t catch, and a ripple went through the group. Sad smiles, nods of understanding, a shared history that went back over a decade. It was a language of their own, forged in school hallways and sleepovers I was never part of.
