“I’m smarter than this,” I whisper to the empty room. “I’m stronger than this.”
Jhett pads into the bedroom, sensing my distress. He pushes his warm body against my legs, and I sink to the floor beside him, burying my face in his fur again as the tears continue to fall.
My wrist feels suddenly heavy, and I look down at the bracelet Dylan gave me. The silver chain catches the dim light from the window, but suddenly, it feels like a weight of another moment I misunderstood. It’s beautiful. Thoughtful. Perfect. But right now, it feels like another weight I need to set down.
With steady fingers, I unclasp it and hold it in my palm for a moment. And that’s when I notice the dog charm is missing.
I must’ve lost it at the Williamstons. A pang of disappointment hits my chest as I open my jewelry box and gently place the bracelet inside, closing the lid with a soft click. I’ll decide what to do about it later.
For now, I just need to breathe.
I change into my pajamas and curl up on the couch with a blanket, Jhett settling in beside me. My eyes feel heavy, my body drained from the emotional day.
“I’m tired of making myself smaller,” I tell Jhett, who watches me with those soulful eyes that never judge. “I’m tired of hoping someone will finally see me. I’m tired of not being enough.”
He licks my hand in response, and I manage a small smile.
“Tomorrow will be better,” I promise him, and maybe myself too. “Tomorrow, I start being enough for me.”
Ding.
My phone glows to life on the coffee table. For a second, I steel myself, because life loves a good plot twist. But then I see who it’s from ...
Mom:Merry Christmas, Chey. I love you.
Her message is followed by an old photo—me at five, happy smile, standing in front of a Christmas tree, clutching a stuffed penguin in one arm and my mom’s hand in the other. An artifact from when loving and being loved was so simple.
I clutch the phone like a lifeboat and blink at the screen, the words blurring. Maybe it’s pathetic, but having my mom say I love you on Christmas ... is enough to split me open.
Maybe she does think about me, after all.
I text her back.
Me:Love you too, Mom. Merry Christmas.
I fall asleep there on the couch, one hand resting on Jhett’s warm body, exhausted but somehow lighter than I’ve felt in months.
“Morning. You’re up early,” Genna says, her eyebrows up, studying me.
“Morning,” I say, hitting the brew button on our new coffee maker. “I fell asleep on the couch. Jhett makes a good pillow, but not a great mattress.”
She continues to look at me, her head tilting to the side. “You seem ... different.”
“Do I?” I lean against the counter, waiting for the coffee to brew.
“Yeah. Calmer or something.” She moves into the kitchen, pulling two mugs from the cabinet. “You disappeared from my parents’ place pretty quickly last night. Everything okay?”
The coffee maker gurgles behind me, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma. I consider deflecting, giving my usual “I’m fine” response. But something about last night’s revelations makes me want to be honest.
“Not really,” I admit. “But I think it might be—eventually.”
Genna sets the mugs down and turns to face me fully. “What happened?”
I take a deep breath. “Your brother told me we’re ‘just friends.’”
“Hewhat?!” Her eyes widen. “But I thought—after the bracelet, and that book, and the way he was looking at you all day—”
“Yeah, me too.” I pour coffee into both mugs, buying myself a moment. “But apparently not. And then Garrett kept texting me—”
