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She cackles. “Good old teenage rebellion.”
There it is. There’s my best friend. She’s right here on the phone with me, even if she’s miles away. My anger recedes as I lean into her.
“I bet those glitter stickers we made are still at that dive bar in Manhattan.” My lips tremble. “I should have just gone out with you instead of hooking up with…”
I swallow the words.
No more regrets. I can’t sulk anymore. I have to keep moving.
“Hey,” she says softly. “Can’t change the past, right? We gotta keep moving forward.”
“Yeah…”
“I’ll always be here for you. Promise.”
“God, I needed to hear that.”
“Keep your phone on you at all times, okay? Keep it charged.”
My mind churns with plans on how to protect myself in this space. It’s not much, but it’s all I have to work with. I have tomakeit work. “I will.”
“If he’s got eyes on you, then he knows what you’re doing. You’ll have to be careful.”
“Yeah, I…I’ve already thought about that.”
She coughs twice. That means she’s nervous. It hurts to hear it, to know I’m causing it, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now.
Gotta keep moving forward.
I smile as much as I can. “I’m going to be okay, right?”
“Yes, you’re going to be okay. You’ll be more than okay.”
It sounds less convincing out loud, but I try not to focus on her tone. The words matter more. Their intention and impact are all I have while I sit by myself.
In a tower.
With a feisty dragon for a fiancé.
“I should go,” I tell Willow. “I’ll text you.”
“You fucking better text me.”
“I swear.”
Click.
Our conversation loops through my mind. My brother, his birthright, our family—everything clashes together in a heap. It’s a mess.
Somehow it’s becomemymess.
So, I need to do what I can to clean it up.
I’m not totally alone. I still have Willow, and there’s a certain comfort in that. The world rights itself as I press my hand over my heart.
Let me hold on to this feeling of comfort. Let me carry it forward.
Because I’m not sure if I can survive without it.
