A hysterical laugh bubbles up through my tears because yes, it really fucking sucks.
“It does,” I agree, my voice thick.
Josie hugs me tighter, and then Dorian settles on my other side, wrapping his arm around both of us. The couch dips under his weight as he joins our huddle.
“Should I put on ‘Falling From the Same Sky’ so we can ugly cry together?” he asks.
Josie must’ve told him that’s our go-to crying song. And it’s surreal that its singer is now part of the family, but his comment makes me crack a smile. “You’re such an ass.” I shove him lightly, but he doesn’t let himself be pushed away; Dorian hugs me tighter.
So does Josie. “I’m sorry for pushing. I should have realized.”
I shake my head, wiping at my tears with the back of my hand. “How could you have known?”
“If it wasn’t my fault that you cried, can I ask one last tiny thing?”
“No.”
We all give each other some personal space back, but I’m still mostly sandwiched between Josie and Dorian.
“Glad you’re ready to open up.” She pats my shoulder. “If you don’t want to date Josh, why did you spend the entire weekend with him?”
“He knows the situation. I told him we can only be friends.”
“Friends who undress each other with their eyes?”
I groan, letting my head fall back against the couch. “That’s the problem. I do like him. He’s funny and kind and so damn easy to be around. But every time I forget what he does for a living, something reminds me, and I’m hearing the knock at the door and remember knowing, just from the uniforms, what the captain was about to say.”
“So now what?” Josie asks.
I consider the question, regaining my composure as the tears subside. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe I’ll have to keep more distance.”
“Do you want distance from Josh?”
The thought makes my chest clench. “No,” I whisper. “But I don’t see another option. I can’t go through that again. Neither can Penny.”
Josie squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. Just… be gentle with yourself, okay? And maybe with him, too. He seems like a good guy.”
“He is,” I agree, and that simple truth tears my heart in two different directions. Move closer. Run further.
“For what it’s worth,” Dorian adds, “I’ve seen a lot of guys look at women, and the way Josh looks at you? That’s not casual interest.”
I groan again, dropping my head onto Josie’s shoulder. “That doesn’t help.”
“Another group hug?” my sister asks.
I nod, exhaustion washing over me as the adrenaline from my emotional outburst fades and my family literally holds me upright.
“We’re here,” Josie says, kissing the top of my head. “To annoy you, and love you, and support you whatever you decide.”
I smile, feeling wrung out but also looser. Releasing some of the pressure has created a bit of space for something new to grow. I don’t know what that might be—maybe just a friendship with Josh, maybe nothing at all—but the uncertainty doesn’t scare me as much as it used to. I’m still lost, but at least I’m not standing still anymore.
15
JOSH
I tape shut the last cardboard box—one filled with junk I should’ve thrown away—and contemplate where to stash it in my still-barren apartment. Even with the unpacking completed, the place retains that hollow echo of rooms waiting to be lived in, walls blank except for a single framed photo of my old squad in Delaware. I shove the box against the wall with the others I’ve deemed “deal with later” and step back to survey my kingdom of cardboard and IKEA furniture. This is what peak loneliness looks like.
It’s Monday, the last day on my four-day break in the rotation schedule, and I’ve ticked off every box on my responsible adult checklist: groceries stocked, laundry folded, unpacking finished (sort of), bathroom cleaned to a level that wouldn’t horrify my grandmother. The apartment smells of lemon-scented cleaning products and the microwaved lasagna I had for lunch. Not exactly the glamorous California life the brochures promised.
