Page 97 of The Wright Man

There was a pause.

Then her voice, soft but certain: "Leek... that was a long time ago."

I looked up. She was watching me through the screen, head tilted just a little, her braid-out soft around her face. Still looking at me the same way she always had—like I wasn't broken, just bruised.

"You said you were sorry," she added. "And I forgave you as soon as you did."

I didn't say anything. Just held the cap and gown in my hands and let that settle.

She smiled a little. "I mean, I'm still ready to die about my best friend, so it clearly wasn't that bad."

That pulled a smile out of me, even if it didn't reach all the way to my chest.

"We were probably overdue for our first fight anyway, by that point," she teased, trying to nudge me out of the shadow I'd fallen into.

"Mmhm."

She leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowing. "Now go dig around and find something embarrassing so I can drag you properly. Old poems, failed love letters, a crusty Black & Mild wrapper—give me something."

I let myself laugh. Let her pull me back into the present. Into us. She was good at that—lifting the heaviness just long enough for me to breathe.

We kept talking for a little while longer. About nothing. About everything. Until her name was being called from the other side of the door and she had to go.

"Duty calls," she sighed, already standing. "Text me if you find your eighth-grade poetry journal."

"It's going in the trash if I do."

"Coward."

She winked before hanging up, her screen going dark with a soft click.

The silence that followed wasn't empty, just quiet. The kind that settles after the storm. The kind that lets you feel again.

I looked back down at the cap and gown in my lap.

She'd forgiven me years ago.

I set the cap and gown down on the bed beside me. Smoothed the fabric once with the back of my hand.

And I believed her.

But I hadn't forgiven myself.

Not completely.

Because that was the first time I made Angelica cry... But it wasn't the last time.

And we haven't talked about that day yet. Not really. But it's coming.

And when it does—I need to be ready.

Chapter Sixteen

Angelica

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I was already halfway out of my bra. Not literally, but spiritually? Emotionally? My soul was in a bonnet and pajamas, glass of wine in hand, laughing on the living room floor with my sisters.

It was finally Sunday. And not just any Sunday—the Sunday. Our last Sister Sunday before we all scattered for the summer. Bella was heading back to school early for her overachiever summer session, and Tina had just gotten a sponsorship deal to do soft-life content in Tulum. I was proud of both of them, obviously. But me? I'd be here. In this house. With Gavin. Pretending not to suffocate.