“Garrett?” Her voice rises in disbelief. “That jerk is trying to get back with you now?”
I nod, then add creamer to my coffee. “He’d been texting all day. Said he made a mistake, wants another chance.”
“Please tell me you told him to go to Hades.” Genna takes her mug, clutching it like she might need to throw it at something—or someone.
“I called him last night,” I say, watching her eyes widen further. “But not to get back together. I told him I was done. That I didn’t even like who I was when I was with him.”
A slow smile spreads across Genna’s face. “Cheyenne Harper Blackwell. Look at you, standing up for yourself.”
I feel my own lips curve upward. “It felt good. Really good.”
“It’s about dang time.” She gestures toward the living room. “Come sit. Tell me everything.”
We settle on the couch, steam rising from our mugs as I recount the previous night—Dylan’s comment, my drive home, the call to Garrett, my realizations as I perused old photos.
“It was like suddenly seeing clearly,” I explain, curling my legs under me. “I realized I’ve been trying to make myself fit what someone else wants, hoping to be chosen, to be enough.”
Genna reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’ve always been enough, Chey. More than enough.”
“Maybe. But I never believed it.” I look down at my coffee. “I always thought if I just tried harder, if I was just a little more perfect, then someone would finally pick me.”
“You always show up for everyone else, Chey,” Genna says softly. “But when are you going to start showing up for you?”
The question hangs in the air between us, simple but profound.
“I think I just did,” I finally answer, the truth of it settling warm in my chest.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping our coffee. Jhett wanders in from the kitchen and settles at my feet with a contented sigh.
“So, what are you gonna do about Dylan?” Genna asks eventually. “Are you gonna talk to him?”
I look out the window, watching the morning light play through the branches of the tree outside. “I don’t know. Maybe. Eventually.” I turn back to her. “But not yet. I need some time to figure myself out first.” I run my finger along the rim of mymug, gathering my thoughts. “Why is it so hard for someone to just ... pick me?” The question isn’t bitter, just thoughtful.
“Guys are idiots,” Genna offers, making me smile. She sets her mug down and opens her arms. “Come here.”
I slide over and let her hug me.
“I’m proud of you,” she says into my hair. “And for what it’s worth, I will always pick you. I chose you to be my best friend a long time ago, and it’s the smartest decision I ever made.”
My throat tightens, but the tears that threaten to fall don’t. Instead, I hug her back, allowing myself to accept her words without questioning or diminishing them.
“Thank you,” I say simply.
When we part, I feel different. Changed, somehow. Like I’ve taken the first step on a path I should have found a long time ago.
A path that leads back to me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dylan
I slam my gym bag onto the bench, not caring that it slides off and hits the floor with a dull thud. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, too bright, too harsh for the storm brewing inside me. I’ve been walking around with this knot in my chest for two days now—ever since Christmas, ever since I opened my stupid mouth and told everyone that Cheyenne and I are “just friends.”
Just friends.
The two most damaging words I’ve ever spoken.
And now I can’t stop picturing her face when I said that to them, the way something in her eyes just ... dimmed.
