As we pull into the school’s parking lot, I spot my black SUV parked squarely in the middle.
“I can come with you if you need to run any errands?” Bree offers.
I shake my head. “You know what? No, that’s okay. Spend some time with Dillon. You two rarely get a day off together.”
For half a second, she doesn’t answer. Just bites the edge of her thumbnail, a nervous habit I’ve started noticing more recently. She drops her hand as soon as she catches me watching, pressing her palm to her jeans like she wasn’t just in her head.
“You wound me. Chicks before dicks. Sisters before misters. I want to tag along if you want me there.”
And then it hits me. I can’t remember the last time Bree talked about Dillon the way she used to. Something’s definitely wrong.
“But in all seriousness,” she continues. “I know you need your space sometimes. You won’t be a bother either way. Whatever you need.”
I stare at her for a moment, struck by how much she gets me, even when I don’t get myself. I give her a small, grateful smile, hoping she knows I appreciate her more than anything.
“Honestly, I need to go home to take inventory and clean first. I’ll give you a call later when I’m settled back in?”
As if on cue, my phone starts ringing in my hand. My stomach drops when I see the caller ID.James. As if seeing his name isn’t bad enough, the photo of us that pops up feels like a slap to the face.
Our smiles are bright, his brown eyes even brighter. I suppress a groan, my thumb quickly swiping the screen to decline the call. I addblock his numberto my mental to-do list with a heavy sigh.
Bree grimaces along with me. “You planning on talking to him?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I should at some point. All my stuff is still at his place.”
She hums in response. “I think you need to consider what you actually want from a conversation with him before you decide.” She shifts in her seat to face me fully. “Is it just about your belongings? Because if that’s all, I can go grab them. I’ll even wear my scariest heels and stare him down until he hands it all over. I’m very intimidating when provoked. Just ask the poor barista who gave me whole milk last week.”
I smile at the mental image, but it fades quickly. “It’s not just about my stuff.”
Her voice softens. “I didn’t think so.”
“I want to knowwhy,” I admit, my voice barely audible. “Why he cheated. Why he thought I wasn’t enough.”
Bree’s eyes flicker with understanding, and she reaches over to take my hand. “Jules, his cheating hadnothingto do with you not being enough. Just because that was his narrative doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”
“But then why?—”
“Because some people are just broken in ways that have nothing to do with the people who love them,” she interrupts. “James didn’t cheat because you lacked something. He cheated becausehelacks something.”
Sometimes, I genuinely wonder where she stores this wisdom. Like, does she have a secret stash of emotional clarity next to her dry shampoo and endless supply of snacks? It always comes out of nowhere and hits like a freight train wrapped in a warm hug.
I consider her words as the silence stretches between us. She’s right. She has this uncanny ability to cut through the bullshit and get right to the heart of matters.
“Still,” I say finally. “I think I need to hear it from him. For closureor whatever.”
She nods, her lips pressed together in a tight line, her eyes narrowing just slightly as if weighing her next words. “Just promise me you’ll remember your worth when you talk to him. Don’t let him twist things around.”
“I won’t,” I say, though I’m not entirely convinced I can keep that promise.
I lean over and pull her into a tight hug. “Thank you for everything, Bree. Seriously.”
“Anytime.” She pulls back and quirks a brow. “All right. Love you. Call me if you need anything.”
“Love you back. Talk to you later,” I say, shutting the passenger door with a firm push.
The drive home is quick, but the final turn onto my street slows time. My neighborhood has that old charm—houses with wraparound porches and crooked mailboxes that somehow add to the appeal.
Pulling into my driveway, I take in the deep teal siding, the dark oak front door, and the cozy front porch with a swinging bench. It’s the same as I left it, but sitting here now, staring through my windshield, I realize just how much I missed it. Not only the house, but the version of me that lived inside it.
