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I clear my throat. “Hanging in.”
“If they need anything…”
I nod robotically, used to this platitude from people by now. “I’ll tell them,” I say, even though I won’t. My parents would never accept help from someone they’ve only met a few times. “Thanks.”
He pulls Azalea close once more, ducking his head close to her ear to say something I can’t make out. I see her nod, and then he’s gone, heading down the hall to his own bedroom.
Azalea stands there for a moment, her back facing me. Then she turns around, arms crossed across her stomach, and gives me a weak smile. “Is pizza okay?”
“Sure.”
I scroll on my phone while she puts the order in. Her whole mood has changed on a dime. The tension radiates off her in waves, and as soon as we hear the front door close, Azalea lets out a loud sigh.
“Does your dad have a girlfriend?” I ask, slipping my phone into my pocket as I walk over to join her on the bed. She’s sitting in the middle, cross-legged; I sit with my back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of me. I tap my foot lightly against her thigh. “Who’s Jess?”
“I didn’t think they were official,” she says, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “He only told me about her a few weeks ago. He said her name wasJessica, and now he’s giving her nicknames, I guess.” She ducks her head, but not before I catch the tears welling in her eyes.
Concerned, I lean forward, wrapping my hand gently around her arm. “What’s the matter?”
“I know he’s not doing anything wrong.” She pauses to wipe a tear from her cheek, then continues, voice unsteady. “I’ve just…I’ve been sad about it.”
“About him dating?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Azalea sniffles, raising her head to look at me. “He told me the same night you came home and…and realized your mom wasn’t doing well,” she says quietly. My stomach drops at the reminder of the night when I knew, in my gut, that everything was about to change. “And since then, it hasn’t seemed like the type of thing I should bother you with.”
“Azalea. If you’re upset about something, I want to know about it.”
“But compared to—”
“No,” I cut in. “There’s no need to compare it. I’m going through shit, you’re going through shit. It’s different shit, but it’s allshit.”
Her shoulders droop, and she nods. I watch her as she tucks a loose piece of hair back into her braid. Her eyes are rimmed in red, her cheeks flushed. In this moment, my only wish is to be as much a comfort to her as she has been to me these past few months.
I tug gently on her arm. “Come here.”
“Hmm?”
“Come here.”
Azalea eyes me skeptically. “You want me to sit with you?”
“I want to hold you.”
She freezes at my words, and I freeze too, worried I’ve overstepped and made things weird. Her gaze falls on my hand on her arm. Then she sighs and relaxes her muscles as if giving in. “Actually, yeah. Yeah.”
Warmth floods my chest as she shuffles toward me on the bed. She plops down beside me and I barely let her get situated before I’m wrapping her up, slipping a hand under her knees to drag her legs across my lap. She lets me turn her the way I want, her head falling against my shoulder as her arms wind loosely around my waist.
This is perfect.
It’s heaven.
I lean back against the headboard and take Azalea with me, keeping one arm tight around her back. I start to rest my other hand on her thigh but decide to play it safe and settle it across her knees instead.
“I really am fine,” she says after a period of quiet, her voice much steadier than it was a few minutes ago. “I was just surprised tonight.”
