“I don’t need?—”
But she was already yanking me out of bed, her mom-strength impossible to fight. She shoved me toward the bathroom, and when I resisted, she pushed harder.
“Tuesday!” I yelped, stumbling into the tub. “I’m wearing my nightshirt!”
“Even better,” she said, turning on the water. “Kill two birds with one stone.”
The spray hit me, cold, then hot, soaking the fabric against my skin. I sputtered as she slammed the curtain closed behind me.
“Thirty minutes,” she called. “You’re coming to Jake and Katie’s, whether you like it or not.”
“I vote not!”
“Noted,” she said cheerfully.
By the time I was dressed—in jeans I didn’t remember owning and a tank top that probably belonged to Katie—I’d been dried, brushed, and lightly bullied into mascara. My apartment looked like a tornado had swept through, but honestly, I didn’t care.
They’d done the impossible. They’d gotten me out the door.
Jake and Katie’s house was quiet when we pulled into the driveway. Too quiet. No cars, no movement. Just a stillness that pressed against my chest as though it knew something was about to happen. I followed Tuesday through the entryway, mentally calculating how long I had to stay to appease them. To make them feel they’d done their job in getting me out of the house.
John was in the kitchen when I walked inside, leaning against the counter with a beer. When he saw me, everyone else disappeared. Katie, Tuesday, walking away as though they had no idea he’d be waiting for me there.
“Well, look who decided to rejoin the living,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes, though my voice came out thin. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”
He shrugged. “I might’ve had a hand in it.”
I crossed my arms. “You actually told Tuesday and Katie to drag me out of bed?”
He grinned. “They actually did it?”
I wanted to be mad, but there was something about the way he said it—soft, careful—that cracked me open a little.
He set his beer down on the counter and turned to face me. “How are you doing, Em?”
I swallowed hard, wanting to lie, but something inside of me wouldn’t. As if I couldn’t do it any longer… not even a little white one. “My heart hurts,” I said, my voice almost breaking.
He paused for a moment, as though my pain hurt him, too. “Yeah. I know.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same again.”
“You will.”
“How do you know?”
Silence stretched between us, so long that I wasn’t sure whether he was going to answer me or not—then a sound came from the backyard—a low hum, followed by—voices.
I turned back to John. “What was that?”
His mouth twitched and he lifted his shoulders.
“John…”
He held up a hand. “Before you freak out, just remember—I did this because I love you. And because it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
