Emma smiles softly. “That’s allowed, you know.”
Ellie slides a pastry toward me. “Eat something anyway. Even emotionally stable people need carbs.”
“I am emotionally stable,” I say, picking it up.
Ellie arches a brow. “That’s new. I’m documenting it.”
I take the pastry.
We sit at the counter with coffee and sugar and the quiet hum of the heater in the background. Nobody pushes me to talk further, which is another reason I love them. They know the difference between support and interrogation.
Ellie takes a sip of her coffee, then says, “I want to be clear. If I see Sierra’s mother in public, someone needs to hold my drink.”
“Ellie,” Emma says, warning.
“What?” Ellie demands. “I’m serious. I’m going to kick her ass.”
I make a sound that might be a laugh and might be a broken inhale. “Please don’t get arrested on my behalf.”
“I won’t get arrested,” Ellie says confidently. “I’ll win.”
Emma shakes her head, but her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile.
We talk in small, careful pieces at first. Safe things. The coffee. The fact that Ellie’s hair is slightly frizzy because she clearly left the house in a hurry. The pastries that Emma insists she ‘accidentally’ bought too much of.
Then Ellie says, more quietly, “Do you want to talk about Jace?”
The question lands soft, not sharp.
I hold my cup in both hands and stare at the steam. “I don’t know what there is to say.”
Emma leans on the counter, watching me. “Start anywhere.”
I take a breath. Let it fill my chest. Let it leave slowly.
“He looked like… someone took the floor out from under him,” I admit.
Ellie’s face tightens. “Yeah.”
“I’ve never seen him like that,” I continue, and my voice goes lower without meaning to. “Not even when we were younger and fought. This was different.”
Emma’s brows draw together. “Different how?”
I swallow. “Like he was trying not to break in front of everyone, and the only thing keeping him upright was… control.”
Ellie nods once, sharp. “That tracks.”
“And,” Emma says gently, “how did that feel for you?”
My throat tightens.‘Like watching someone drown in slow motion.’
I force myself to speak anyway. “It made me want to… fix it.”
Ellie snorts. “You can’t fix men.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I say, but my voice wobbles.
Emma reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You wanted to take his pain away.”
