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“If you get tired—”

“I’ll pull over and stop.”

“If—”

“Yonas.”

A faint, crooked smile finally touched his lips. “Aight. I’m done.”

I walked around to the driver’s side, and he followed in step, stopping beside the open window.

For a second, neither of us said anything. The reality of the moment hung thick in the warm afternoon air.

I rose up onto my toes, hooked one hand lightly behind his neck, and pressed a brief, tender kiss against his lips. It was soft, familiar, and undeniably final.

When I pulled back, he touched two fingers to his mouth, narrowing his eyes at me. “That’s all I get?”

“That’s all you get,” I said softly.

“Cold, Nurse Lakelyn.”

I offered him a sad, genuine smile. “Yonas, thank you… for everything.”

“There you go again with the manners,” he muttered, though his eyes were warm.

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

I climbed behind the wheel and shut the heavy door, locking out the noise of the street.

Yonas leaned his forearms against the open window frame. “Call me when you stop for gas and call me the second you make it home.”

“I will.”

“And if either of you needs anything you let me know.”

“Promise.”

He tapped the roof of the car twice with his knuckles and stepped back onto the pavement.

I turned the ignition, listening to the quiet, powerful hum of the engine.

Before backing out, I took one last look at the place I had called home for the last several years before putting the car in reverse.

Leaving didn’t feel as difficult as I thought it would. There were things I would miss, of course, but there wasn’t much here holding me anymore. My job could be replaced, the apartment never felt permanent, and I had never been the type to collect a whole circle of friends just so I could say I had one.

One good friend had always been enough for me.

Nyelle was probably the only female there I would genuinely miss. We had met a few years earlier and clicked because neither one of us required constant attention from the other. We could go several days without talking, then pick right back up like we had spoken that morning. She knew when to check on me, when to mind her business, and most importantly, she had never been the kind of friend who secretly competed with me or needed to know every damn detail of my life to feel important.

I had learned a long time ago that I didn’t need ten women calling themselves my best friend.

Hell, I already had Willow.

That girl was my sister, best friend, emergency contact, unpaid therapist, personal investigator, occasional stylist, food thief, designated shit-talker, and the first person I called whenever something went wrong.

Nyelle already made me promise that leaving town didn’t mean I was disappearing from her life, and I meant it when I told her I would visit whenever I could. She had a life here, and I had one waiting for me back home. Real friendship didn’t require either one of us to pretend otherwise.