“I don’t care.”
“You will.”
“Jace.”
“Okay. Listen. He’s wrecked. Like scary quiet. He hasn’t yelled once, which is how I know it’s bad.”
My throat tightened. “I know.”
“He thinks you only want him now because he left.”
“I know that too.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” I sat on the edge of the stairs, gripping my phone. “And I can’t fix that with a text. I need to tell him in person. I need him to see me. No mother. No campus. No audience. Just me.”
Jace was quiet for a second.
Then he said, “Book into Denver. Text me the flight. I’ll send someone.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. He might be an asshole.”
“He’s allowed.”
“Good answer.” He paused. “Texas?”
“Yeah?”
“You hurt my boy.”
My eyes burned again. “I know.”
“So when you come, come honest.”
I looked down at the bracelet on my wrist.
The little gold star glinted under the hall light.
“I will.”
Colorado was rude.
That was my first thought when I stepped out of the airport into air cold enough to slap the Texas out of my lungs.
Cold. White. Sharp. Too beautiful to trust.
By the time Jace’s older sister picked me up in a giant SUV with heated seats and a reusable water bottle covered in ski stickers, my teeth were chattering and my hands were shaking so badly I could barely text.
“You’re Isa,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I’m Hannah.” She looked me over once. Not meanly. Curiously. “You came all the way out here for Drew?”
“Yes.”
