She pauses for a moment, giving me time for her words to sink in. She offers a casual shrug, and there’s a glint of mischief in her eye when she says, “That being said, screw that guy.”
And just like that, I burst out laughing. A real, unfiltered laugh that’s been trapped inside for too long. “God, this is why I love you.”
She’s got this gift of being a therapist one second, and the person who’ll grab a pitchfork in the next. Equal parts heart and fire, all wrapped up in one incredibly kickass package.
By the time I drag myself upstairs to the guest room, it’s well past midnight. I collapse onto the mattress and stare up at the ceiling, moonlight casting silver shadows across the room.
The memories that come first are the ones I wish I could cling to forever. I remember the way his hand fit in mine when we’d walk downtown on lazy Sunday afternoons. Then there was the time he surprised me with the weekend getaway to the cabin. We spent the weekend in a fog of laughter, talking about everything and nothing, about our future, about our dreams. I had no idea then that it was all a lie.
Soon enough, the painful flashbacks filter in, each one cutting deeper than the last. They twist and tear until the tearsI’ve been holding back spill over. I cry until I’m gasping for air, my sobs slowly losing their strength. Everything feels hollow now—my chest, my limbs, my heart. Empty.
Exhaustion settles in, dragging me down until there’s nothing left but the numbness that follows a good, hard cry. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but it creeps up on me, a slow, inevitable pull. I let myself slip into that strange in-between where the world feels miles away and nothing can hurt. At least for a little while.
three
JULIETTE
The next morning, I shuffle downstairs, the weight of the night still hanging heavy in my bones. Bree’s perched on the couch while Dillon’s standing in the kitchen, elbows propped on the counter.
“Morning, Sunshine,” Bree chirps, a little too chipper for the hour.
“Hey.” I nod at both of them, accepting the mug Dillon offers with a quiet thanks. His gaze lingers on Bree for half a beat too long before shifting to me.
“You sleep okay?” he asks.
“Sure.” It’s mostly true.
The silence hangs there, stretching just enough to settle awkwardly between us. Bree’s fingers tap restlessly against her cup. Dillon watches her with a look I can’t read. It’s not soft, not hard, just…stuck.
“What’s the plan today?” he finally questions.
“Gonna grab her car,” Bree answers without looking at him.
Another pause comes after.
Cool.
No one says anything, and it’s starting to feel a lot like Mom and Dad are fighting.
I clear my throat in hopes of shattering the tension. Dillon finally pulls his gaze from Bree with a resigned sigh, though the shift in the air feels less like resolution and more like a pause.
“C’mon,” Bree says with forced cheer, standing too fast. “Bring your coffee upstairs and let’s get you dressed.”
Upstairs, away from Dillon’s stare, the silence follows us like an unwelcome shadow. Bree hands me a handful of clothing without meeting my eye.
I hesitate. “You and Dillon okay?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just the usual stuff.”
That, coming from Bree, feels a lot like sayingnot even a little bit fine.I don’t believe her. It’s not like them to be so tense around each other. They’ve always been the picture-perfect couple that makes you believe in love even when your own heart is broken.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she says softly, squeezing my hand before turning to leave.
I slip on the borrowed jeans and sweater and head back down. Bree’s already waiting at the bottom step, blonde curls pulled into one of those infuriatingly perfect ponytails that looks effortless but somehow never is. She gives me a bright, practiced smile.
“Ready?”
I offer a nod, and we slip out to the car. My brain, traitorous as ever, starts putting together a grocery list that consists mostly of comfort food and bad decisions. Chips. Ice cream. Cheap wine. Whatever will get me through.
