Cora straightens, her eyes dark and sharp. “That bastard doesn't get to pull strings just because he knows which buttons to push.”
Abbie sits forward on the chaise, no trace of her earlier playfulness behind her cutting glare. “And you don’t have to answer him. Not with your body. Not with your silence.Nothing. He lost any right to expect a response from you with his actions, you know that.”
The heat crawling up my throat threatens to choke me. “I didn’t say I was going to.”
“Didn’t have to,” Cora says, her gaze softening even as her voice sharpens. “We can see it on your face.”
My pulse skips. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is with him,” Abbie groans, running a hand through her hair. “Complicated and messy. You deserve betterthan being left shredded every time he decides he wants you again.”
The words land like a blow, not only because they’re true, but because hearing them from her makes them sting even worse. For so long, I tried to hide what sneaking around with Matt was doing to me. But as these two wormed their way between my walls, hiding that hurt became impossible, even if I never explicitly told them who was tearing my heart out and crushing it under his boot.
Cora reaches out, fingers brushing mine. “If you don’t want to talk about him, fine. We’ll drop it. But don’t you dare sit here and pretend this doesn’t hurt. That you don’t want him so badly it’s tearing you in two.”
“Cora’s right, babe. You don’t have to hide your hurt from us. If you want to vent, or cry, or throw things… well, I’ll find you a rage room while Cora handles the tissues and chocolate.”
I blink against the burn in my eyes. The shop around us carries on, oblivious, while the two people who know me best in this world build a fortress around me with nothing but their words and their presence.
And still, somewhere in the mess of it, Matt’s ghost presses closer—silk and lace in his hand, daring me to fall.
I bite down on my lip until it bleeds, trying to hold it together, but it’s no use. My knees weaken, my chest tightens, and the dam I’ve been holding back bursts. “I… I can’t,” I choke out. “I hate that I want him. I hate that he gets to—gets to make me feel like I’m nothing. Like I’m… just something to be pulled apart.”
Abbie’s chair scrapes the floor as she lunges toward me, grabbing my shoulders and holding me steady. “No. Look at me, Lily. Look at me.”
I lift my gaze, and her eyes burn with something I can’t name—fury, love, rage all mixed into one. “You’re not nothing. You’re not a toy. You’re not a goddamn test. You areLily, and anyone who can’t see that can eat shit.”
Cora comes up on the other side, sliding an arm around my waist and pressing a hand to my back. “We’ve got you. Every single thing you’re feeling? Every tear, every breakdown, every messy, impossible emotion? You don’t have to hide it. Not from us.”
The tears fall freely now, stinging my cheeks, and I let them. Let the ache, the longing, the fury spill over. My body shakes with it, raw and trembling. “I’m so tired,” I whisper, voice cracking. “So fucking tired of wanting him, of hating him, of feeling like I can’t… breathe without him messing everything up.”
Abbie tightens her grip, her voice low and fierce. “Then stop carrying it alone. Stop letting him decide how you feel. We’re right here. Every step, every stumble, every piece of shit he throws at you, we’ll catch it. Together.”
Cora squeezes me again, her words steady, unwavering. “You are not alone, Lily. You never were. You have us. Always.”
I hiccup a laugh through the sobs, half-bitter, half-relieved. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, I let myself sink into it, not trying to be strong, not trying to be anything. Just letting it hurt, just letting it out. And in the middle of the storm, their arms around me, I feel it—tethered, grounded, and seen. Not by him. Not yet. But by them.
And somehow, that’s enough to take a shaky, ragged breath and remind myself I’m still me. Still standing. Still fighting. Still theirs.
“You’re a mess. But a hot mess, so… silver lining?” Abbie snorts, pulling me impossibly closer to her.
Cora nudges me with her elbow, smirking despite the seriousness still in her eyes. “Yeah. And hey, at least he’s predictable. Mess up your day, make you cry, act like a total idiot. Classic Matt.”
I groan, pressing my face into my hands. “I hate that I laughed at that.”
“You didn’t laugh at him,” Abbie says, steps back with a triumphant tilt of her head. “You laughed at yourself. And that, my friend, is progress.”
Cora laughs softly, brushing a stray tear from my cheek. “See? Look at you. Crying, yelling, surviving. Like a champ.”
I peek between my fingers, letting a small, shaky smile slip. “You’re impossible,” I whisper.
“And you love us for it,” Abbie says, grinning.
I roll my eyes, but the tight ache in my chest softens a little, and for the first time in hours, maybe days, I feel lighter. Still raw, still wanting, but no longer utterly alone.
Cora nudges me again. “Come on. Let’s get you out of this shop before you start dissolving into a puddle of hormones again. Poor Duncan is about ready to run for the hills.”
I laugh, the sound shaky but real, and stand, leaning on them both as we walk toward the door. The city outside carries on, a world still messy and dangerous, but in here, I have my people. My fortress. My girls.
