I nod once, because yes. Exactly.
Ellie’s tone shifts into something sharper, protective. “You can support him without carrying it for him. That’s the line.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Ellie asks, eyebrow raised.
I glare at her. “Yes.”
Ellie holds my gaze like she doesn’t believe me, then sighs and takes another sip of coffee. “Fine. I’ll accept that for now. Temporarily.”
Time passes in pieces.
We move from the kitchen to the couch. Emma puts on some mindless background show that none of us actually watch. Ellie scrolls through her phone and mutters threats at the universe like it’s personal.
I answer a couple of texts. Nothing meaningful. Mostly people asking if I’m okay, which is a useless question because the answer is obvious and the truth is too big to fit in a message.
Ellie looks up. “Okay. I need you to tell me something, and I need you to be honest.”
I brace. “Okay.”
“Are you angry at Sierra?”
A dull pressure settles in my chest. Anger would be simpler. Anger would be clean. Anger would let me draw a line and never cross it again.
But what I feel isn’t clean. “I don’t know,” I admit.
Ellie’s eyes narrow. “Sarah.”
Emma’s voice stays soft. “It’s okay if it’s complicated.”
I stare at the television, not seeing it. “I’m angry at what she did. I’m angry at the timing. And I’m angry because she changed my future without ever thinking about the consequences for anyone else, because she took a choice away from me.”
Ellie nods like that’s the correct answer.
“But,” I add, and the word tastes strange, “I also… understand why she did it.”
Ellie’s lips press into a line. “That’s empathy, not forgiveness.”
“I know,” I say again, and I do. Mostly.
Another knock at the door comes, and I can feel who it is. Something in my body shifts, but it doesn’t tip into panic. Maybe because the worst already happened. Maybe because I can’t be surprised anymore.
I stand, smoothing my sweatshirt down, then walk to the door.
Sierra stands on the porch with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, posture straight butbrittle. She looks smaller in daylight. Fragile and stripped down. Like whatever armor she used to wear didn’t survive the night.
Her eyes flick over my shoulder once, seeing Ellie and Emma, then return to my face.
“Hi,” she says, voice thin.
Ellie’s presence behind me is solid and unmistakable. Not threatening. Just watchful.
I step aside anyway. “Come in.”
Sierra walks in slowly, shoulders tight, like she’s braced for impact. Like she expects to be told she doesn’t belong here.
Ellie doesn’t move, her arms are crossed. Expression closed but controlled.
