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My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I could tell him I was broken too. That I’d been so busy being competent that I’d forgotten how to be anything else. That I was terrified of being seen as something other than useful because what if that was all I was?

But typing that at 11:43 PM felt like standing on the edge of something I couldn’t come back from.

I set the phone down instead.

“What if I’m not brave enough?” I whispered to Marzipan.

She slow-blinked, which suggested either judgment or absolution.

I wasn’t brave. That was the problem. Brave people didn’t hide in their cars watching someone sit in a parking lot. Brave people didn’t check their phones seventeen times hoping for a text they’d pretend they didn’t want.

Brave people didn’t run to Denver because staying meant risking another hallway conversation that would gut them.

I picked up the phone again, reading his texts one more time.

I took the phone to bed, and I fell asleep holding it.

Friday morning started early.

I took a shower and dressed. Put my hair in a bun. Makeup covered the shadows under my eyes that concealer couldn’t hide. I sat at the kitchen island and drank a cup of coffee.

Marzipan watched from her perch on the opposite counter, unimpressed.

“I’m fine,” I told her.

She meowed once.

The cat sitter would come feed her tonight. Would she even notice I was gone?

The drive to the airport took forty minutes through morning traffic. I turned on the sports radio.

“—Punishers dominated last night, winning 5-0.”

A shut-out.

“—Kedish was unstoppable, folks. Seventeen saves in the third period alone⁠—”

I turned the radio off.

He’d played well.

Without me there.

Of course he had.

At the airport, the security line moved slowly. I stood with my carry-on at my feet, my boarding pass on my phone, and his text thread still open in my messages.

I’m going to figure out how to be less broken for you.

My thumbs moved before my brain caught up. I don’t know how to be less broken either.

I hit send.

Then I put my phone in airplane mode before I could see if he responded.

The plane was half-empty, mostly business travelers who looked as tired as I felt. I settled into the window seat and stared out at the gray Boston sky.

My phone was still in airplane mode.