I glance at her.
“I mean it,” she says. “Let him rage. Let him fall apart. He’s never had to face himself. Not really. Maybe this is what it takes. You stepping away.”
I swallow hard. “I just… I want him to find peace. Even if it’s without me.”
Skye leans forward, rests her elbows on her knees.
“You can’t build your healing around his potential,” she says. “You’ve already tried that. You gave everything you had, and then some. And maybe, someday, he’ll do the work. Maybe he’ll even thank you. But that part’s not yours to carry anymore.”
It’s both freeing and devastating. I let it settle in my bones.
We finish our ice cream, the room thick with unspoken things.
Skye sets her empty pint on the coffee table, then stretches her arms overhead with a soft, contented groan. “Alright. Let’s go. Bedtime.”
I lift a brow, still wrapped in my blanket. “You’re not gonna make me sleep on the couch like some stray you found on the porch?”
She snorts. “Please. Like I’d pass up the chance to relive our glory days of sharing a bed and fighting over boy band soulmates until two in the morning.”
I smile—small, but genuine. It slips out before I can stop it, catching me off guard with how right it feels.
“Come on,” she says, standing and holding out a hand like I need help remembering the way.
I don’t. I know this house as well as she does.
Still, I take it.
We walk down the hallway side by side, steps softened by therug worn threadbare in the center. Skye’s bedroom door is already open. She doesn’t even bother with the light.
The lavender walls are still covered in old posters—concerts we never actually went to, cheesy motivational quotes we taped up for finals week and never took down. Some of them are curling at the corners now, browned slightly at the edges. A corkboard still hangs near the dresser, filled with pushpins and fading snapshots. Right in the center is our senior year photo booth strip, still perfectly intact—Skye mid-laugh, me sticking my tongue out like a girl who hadn’t yet learned how much damage could hide behind a smile, Alis pushing up her glasses that never seemed to stay put.
Three unstoppable best friends. And I haven’t even told one of mine that my life is literally falling apart. Part of me feels guilty about that, but with everything she’s had going on and the happiness that has finally come her way I didn’t want to spoil it with my own sob story. Alis will find out soon enough. I’ll explain everything when I get to Grand River in a few weeks.
I sit at the edge of the bed while Skye digs through the dresser, tossing me a pair of pajama shorts so old the logo is barely legible.
“Camp Long Pine,” I read aloud, squinting at the faded print. “Pretty sure these predate my first real kiss.”
“Vintage,” she says, completely unbothered. “You’re welcome.”
We change without commentary, the silence between us soft, easy. Skye climbs into bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin and patting the space beside her like I haven’t claimed it a dozen times before.
I slide under the covers, the mattress dipping in the exact spot I remember. I stare at the ceiling for a while, the fan whirling above us.
There’s something safe in this room. Something steady. Like all the versions of us that once existed here still linger.
I can’t sleep, and when I finally speak my voice comesout quieter than I mean it to. “You remember how you swore you were going to follow in Belle’s footsteps?”
Skye hums, turning slightly toward me. “Study abroad, fall in love with some dreamy foreigner, elope by twenty-one? Oh yeah. That was the grand plan.”
“You never talk about Italy,” I say. “Five months is a long time. You really didn’t meet anyone?”
She huffs, but her voice stays light. “Not anyone worth mentioning.”
“Come on,” I tease, nudging her leg with mine beneath the covers. “Nobody special?”
“I’ve already told you,” she says with a lazy shrug. “I found my true love in Italy, and that was espresso. The boys were a dime a dozen.” She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, “And I definitely sampled at least a dozen.”
I laugh—not at all surprised—but I don’t push for more. If there is something she’s not saying, I’ll let her keep it tucked away. We all have corners we don’t invite people into. Some truths only come out when you’re ready to let them go.
