My chest tightens.
Do I?
The worst part is my body already answered that question last night. My pride just hasn’t caught up.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
Jade’s expression softens—rare. “Okay. That’s a start.”
Blakely reaches over and squeezes my knee gently. “You don’t have to decide everything right now.”
I swallow hard and nod once, because if I talk, my voice will crack.
—
Target is, unfortunately, effective.
Jade throws me into the women’s clothing section like she’s on a mission to distract me with soft fabrics and seasonal candles.
“This,” she says, holding up a fuzzy throw blanket. “You need this.”
“I do not need a blanket,” I argue.
“You need comfort,” she corrects. “And if you won’t accept emotional comfort, you’ll accept textile comfort.”
Blakely picks up a mug and reads it aloud. “‘You got this.’”
I snort. “Lies.”
Blakely smiles. “Maybe. But it’s a cute lie.”
Jade keeps tossing things into the cart like she’s stocking a bunker. Snacks. Tea. A stupid little plant that will absolutely die under my care.
“Jade,” I say, exasperated. “I can’t?—”
“You can,” she interrupts. “Because we’re doing this.”
I stare at the cart. It looks like a sleepover. Like a normal life.
And the ache in my chest shifts into something complicated.
Because I want this.
I want normal. I want laughter and stupid mugs and a blanket that smells like lavender instead of antiseptic.
I want…
My brain betrays me with Logan again.
I hate that I can’t stop thinking about him.
I hate that the hate-to-love tension feels like the only thing in my life that isn’t purely grief.
Jade nudges me with her shoulder. “Earth to Sloane. You’re doing the stare thing again.”
“What stare thing?” I snap.
“The one where your eyes go all murdery, and your mouth goes all…” Jade gestures vaguely. “Well, hanging open. Maybe drooling even.”
