“I gave Chase my number.” I run my hand over Tinkerbell’s sleek fur. She’s purring like mad and cuddling even harder.

“You better not be joking.” Lisa turns away from my closet that she’s raiding and stares me right in the eyes.

“I’m not.”

“I need details. Now.” She comes over to the bed and sits at the foot. Dolly, who was lazily grooming herself, glares, growls, and then gets up. She’s such a friendly cat, I know.

“He came into the store yesterday and—”

“This happened yesterday and you’re just now telling me?”

I look down at Tink, admiring her black stripes against her soft gray fur. “Yeah.”

“Go on.”

“He asked for a book recommendation and then asked me out.”

“And you said yes? That’s awesome, Si! I’m so happy for you!”

“Don’t get too excited. I told him I might go out with him, and I might not answer if he calls.”

Lisa purses her lips. “Why?”

I shrug. “I just don’t see the point. I don’t want to go out with him.” Or anyone, and I think it’s a safe bet I’ll always feel that way.

“Have you seen him? That man looks like he sprang from the pages of those bad-boy romances you’re always reading. Take a chance.”

I wrinkle my nose and shake my head.

“Don’t be nervous,” she goes on.

I bite my lip and think of what to say next. I’m not nervous. Or scared. Or excited. I don’t feel anything.

“I’m not.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

I shake my head. “He’s kind of irritating.”

“Good!”

“How in the world is that good?”

She looks out the window and pulls her lip over her teeth, considering her words, which is very unlike say-it-like-it-is Lisa. “You were sad for so long and then shut down. You never went through the rest of the grieving process. You need to get irritated. Get mad. Hell, a full-out screaming match would be good for you at this point.”

I keep my gaze on Tinkerbell, not knowing what to say back. It’s true, and I didn’t think anyone had noticed. “It’s only been a year and a half.”

“I know. And I know how hard it’s been for you but it’s time to move on.”

“If you think I can move on then you have no idea how hard it’s been.” Tears pool in my eyes and anger wells inside of me. Tinkerbell jumps out of my arms and runs down the hall. My jaw trembles and I shake my head, trying to push back the tears. “Everyone is giving me a time limit and I’m sorry I can’t follow it. I’m sorry to inconvenience you with my grief,” I spit and angrily wipe away tears.

“I’m not giving you a time limit, but you’re not the only one this has been hard on.” Tears roll down her cheeks. “Jake was my friend too. I lost him and then I lost you.”

“I’m still here.”

“But you don’t want to be.” She stands up and waves her hands in the air as she talks. “I talk to you but you don’t listen. We go out and it’s like you’re not even there. I know losing Jake hurt. I know it’s been hard on you. But it’s been hard on me too. I never know how to act around you. I don’t want to be too happy. And when Rob and I have a fight, I feel like I can’t go to you because I know you’d do anything to have one more fight with—” She cuts off and closes her eyes. “I feel like we’re drifting apart and I don’t know how to stop it. Because no matter how many times I reach out to you or throw you a rope so you can pull yourself to shore, you just let it go. I don’t want to imagine how you feel, Sierra, but I know it hurts. And letting yourself get carried out to sea isn’t the answer. You’ll still hurt, but you’ll be alone.”

Her words are like a sucker punch to the stomach. I don’t deny it. My throat thickens and what’s left of my broken heart thumps in my chest.

Lisa takes in a slow breath and brings her arms in around herself. “Listen,” she starts. “You’re family and you’re my best friend. They told me not to say anything, but I can’t sit back and watch you wither away. I love you, Sierra, and I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I croak out.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

Lisa flies around the bed and wraps her arms around me. “I don’t know what else to do, and it makes me feel like I’m failing you as a friend.”

I hug her back, not knowing what to think. I want to be angry at her, to tell her to get over herself and not make me feel guilty on top of everything else. That it’s bullshit to make my grief out to be a burden.

But at the same time, I see merit in her argument. I’ve shut down. Stopped feeling to spare myself the pain.

I don’t want to go through life like this. Jake wouldn’t want me to go through life like this either.

“I’m scared if I move on, I’ll forget,” I whisper, tears falling.

“You won’t.”

I move my head up and down, but don’t believe her. How can she promise me that? She gives me one more squeeze then sits up, taking my hands. Lisa and I grew up together, so naturally, we fought like sisters, but we always made up fast, and none of the fights were serious.

“So.” Lisa wipes her eyes and smiles. “When Chase calls, answer. Let him be a fling or even your first bad date. And if it gets serious, go with it.”

I smile and nod like I’m supposed to. “Okay.”

“Now…the concert Thursday night.”

“What about it?”

“Please tell me you changed your mind and want to come with.”

“Even before…” I let out a breath and shake my head, trying to center myself. “You know I’m not a fan of crowds. And didn’t you just say that Rob took off work just to go with you?”

Lisa makes her face. “Yeah, he did.”

“You’re stuck with him then.” I lean back against my pillows. Six months after Jake died, I stripped the bedding we’d picked out together, packed it away in bags, and stashed it in the cave of a basement this old house sits on. I drank a bottle of wine that night, and the alcohol flooded my emotional walls and I couldn’t take it anymore.

The bedding I had before Jake moved in is back on the bed, and the little smiling tacos that are printed on my sheets stare up at me.

“I’m starving,” Lisa announces and stands. “Want to go into town with me and get something to eat?”

“No, I don’t want to get dressed.” I look down at my sleeper shorts and tank top. “But I will go to my parents’ and see what they’re having for lunch.”

Lisa grins. “Now you’re talking my language.”

We get into Lisa’s truck and drive the mile-long gravel driveway connecting my house to the family mansion.

“Want to take bets on how long before my mom comments on my outfit?” I ask Lisa as we walk up to the front porch.

Lisa turns, dark hair blowing around her face in the wind. “I’m gonna give her ten minutes.”

“I’m gonna go with one minute. I’d say less, but the shock is going to hit her and leave her speechless.” I point to a Lexus parked in the breezeway. “Isn’t that the Vanders’ car?”

Lisa squints in the bright sun. “Yep. They have that douchy custom license plate. This will be fun.”

The smile comes back to my face. “If I’d known they were going to be here I’d have changed into something even worse.”

Lisa laughs and links her arm through mine. “Now this is the Sierra I love. Want to run home and get your ‘my ideal weight is Dean Winchester on top of me’ shirt?”

“Sadly, it’s in the laundry. I dropped blueberry pie filling on it the other day.” More like two weeks ago, and I’d forgotten about it. It’s probably ruined now. “Which is rather fitting for a shirt about Dean, now that I think about it.”

I open the front door and step in, kicking off my flip-flops. Melinda, my parents’ housekeeper, rushes over to get the door, face flushed. Seeing that it’s just Lisa and me, she relaxes.

“It’s good to see you again, Ms. Sierra,” she greets. “And Ms. Lisa. Always a pleasure.”

“Hi, Mel,” I say. “Is my mom around?”

“Yes, she’s in the sunroom with Mr. and Mrs. Vander. Was she expecting you?”

“No, we’re just here to raid the kitchen,” I confess.

Melinda nods. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

“Thanks.” Lisa and I go into the kitchen. It’s one of my favorite rooms in this large plantation house. It was newly renovated a few years ago, updating the previous renovation from the early 1900s. Now the kitchen is huge, looking like something you’d find on Pinterest or on the cover of Southern Living.

My parents have a chef who cooks for them six days a week. The meals are perfectly proportioned, so there aren’t usually leftovers. But we get lucky today and dig into the spread that’s still out from lunch that was served to my mother and the Vanders. I fill a plate with fried okra and sweet potatoes, saving room for at least one beignet.

Lisa pours herself a full glass of wine and offers me the bottle. I decline and take my food out to the rear veranda. I’m able to eat all the fried okra—which is one of my favorite foods—before Mom comes out.

Lisa looks at her watch then up to me, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, Sierra, darling,” Mom gushes, smiling as soon as she sees me. Her excitement is genuine. I don’t come over as often as I used to, even though the main reason was always for the food. “And Lisa! What a treat to have you girls over. And what perfect timing. The Vanders are heading out and you get to say hello before they leave.”

“Hi, Mom,” I say, setting my fork down. I stand from the patio table Lisa and I are sitting at and start to go over to give my mother a hug. Her eyes bulge when she sees me, and Lisa snickers into her wine glass. “And it’s nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Vander.”

“What on earth are you wearing?” Mom whispers as she hugs me. “Are you not feeling well? You’re not slipping into—that—again, are you?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I say, knowing she’s worried I’m becoming depressed again…as if the heavy sadness ever left in the first place. My mind flashes back to what Lisa said not that long ago. How many times have I said, ‘I’m fine’ over the last year? Each time was a lie.

Mom doesn’t know what else to say, so she goes on autopilot, being the perfect hostess as usual. Lisa and I make small talk with the Vanders before they go. I finish my food, then go inside to use the bathroom. The Vanders are slowly walking through the corridor that leads to the front door, and don’t know I’m behind them.

“It’s been long enough you’d think she’d be over it by now,” Mrs. Vander says to her husband. “They weren’t even together that long to begin with.”

“It’s a shame,” Mr. Vander agrees. “She used to be such a lovely girl.”

Mrs. Vander shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “There’s no coming back once you’ve let yourself go that far.”

My stomach twists and I take a sharp turn, entering a sitting room. I perch on the edge of an impressive hand-carved replica of a Victorian settee, and close my eyes. Should I be mad? Should I run out there and demand an apology? They are guests in my family’s house and are gossiping about me. Should I be upset, sad, or embarrassed?

Probably. But right now, all I feel is tired. I inhale as I open my eyes and start to feel something else, something I haven’t felt in a while. It starts deep within, rising from my bones and wrapping its cold, cruel hand around my broken heart.

Fear.