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JT’s the one who does so. “Not in those exact words, but yeah, I figured out that much from what he did say. And, because I’ve since learned that, just like with the rest of us, you’re ignoring his calls, texts, flowers, and whatever else he’s doing to apologize for whatever he did in the first damn place, I’m gonna take a wild guess that we’re right.”

“But he didn’t tell you why we had a fight?” I ask in two-fold; digging for any other details Sutton shared, and confirming what, deep down, I already know. He didn’t say one thing more than he had to in order to get JT talking. He never would.

And with that certainty comes a painful clenching of uncertainty in my chest. How the hell am I supposed to forget, and move past, Sutton Ellis — the man who betrayed me — the same man in whom I have concrete faith in who he really is… someone who’d never purposely or selfishly betray me. The constant loop of contradictions is too much. All I want to do is roll back up into the ball I’ve been in for days and cry myself to sleep; the only place where I find reprieve from the confusing, lonely, angry ache inside me.

“All he said was that he really fucked up, you might never forgive him, and he wouldn’t blame you if so. I didn’t much care for the sound of that, so I bowed up his ass, but he swore he didn’t hurt you in any kind of way that called for an ass whoopin’. So, before I go back and deliver one anyway, or let him stay off the hook, I’m gonna need to hear, from you, just what in the hell’s going on.”

“Sutton would never put his hands on me, and you know it, so keep yours off him. Besides, you’d just end up getting yourself hurt.” I laugh in the face of sadness. “It’s over. We’re over. Whatever the hell we even were. And, much like every other damn thing in my life, I’ll. Be. Fine. I’ll deal, accept, tuck it away, and move on. Like always. Like a pro.”

“Damn, y’all are more in sync than I thought; that’s almost verbatim what he said you’d say. So he asked me to give you… shit, hold on.” His oafish stomping out of the room can’t be missed, and with my pesky curiosity getting the better of me, again, I uncover my head for a peek at what’s to come.

“Well, hello there,” Sky giggles, tapping the end of my nose. “Nice to see you’re able to escape that heap. And are still breathing. It’s got to smell under there, P.”

JT reappears, my eyes darting from Sky to him… and what’s in his hand. “Had to go grab it, and thank fuck I remembered; he’d have kicked my ass. Here, this is from Sutton. Made me swear I’d make it very clear that he did this for you, so you find, and always stay, your happiest. Not to help whatever lucky son of a bitch you end up finding it with.”

I take what he offers, turning it over and around in my hands, puzzled at first… until I spot the letters written across the front. Then, and all at once, I know exactly what it is. What it means. But I know nothing about the flurry of emotions now at war inside me. And out of nowhere, very unlike me, but whimsically pleasing all the same, I think of a snow globe. That’s precisely what I feel like — a snow globe — that Sutton just picked up and shook, beautiful little pieces of myself swirling everywhere, no telling which will land where.

“What is that?” Brynny whispers, awe its only volume. It’s a certain kind of whisper, one that screams, ‘I don’t know what I’m looking at, yet, but I’m positive it’s monumental, and that no matter what it turns out to be, I want a man to someday give me one.’ Yes, that kind of whisper.

“Um, I think I know this one.” JT raises his hand, mocking up with his tone and confused expression. “Is it… a jar?” No one pays him any mind, or reply, so he reassures himself of his own brilliance. “Yes, I’m right; it’s a jar. So what’s with y’all and the googly-eyes? What’d I miss?”

“Life will never be boring,” I interpret past the twitters in my chest as I trace a fingertip over each letter. “L,W,N,B,B; that’s what it stands for. He made me a life will never be boring jar.” I get choked up, but instantly squash it back down. “I’m guessing, no, actually, I’m not. I’m sure each piece of paper inside is an idea, some new exciting thing to do, like… skydive. Ride a camel. Find a field of dandelions and make wishes all day. Find a soft spot to lay, and count the stars all night.”

“Huh, what?” JT makes a short, unimpressed sound.

I jerk my head his way to properly glare at him in all his unappreciative ignorance. “Huh, what?”

He shrugs. “I just, I don’t get it is all.”

“That’s okay; you don’t have to get it. It’s not yours, therefore, it’s not yours to get. It’s mine, and I do. So do,” my voice breaks with the unique sound of true, unconditional love — that special place, the only place where your heart can sing and sob, be bursting full, yet longing for more, at the same time — love. “As long as your ‘huh’ didn’t mean anything else, like insinuating it’s dumb or something, then… okay.”

“‘Cause that’d piss you off?” He cocks a brow as he asks.

“Yes.”

“How bad, say, on a scale of normal people mad to P mad?”

“Q,” I snarl. “A fuckin’ Q.”

“Sure am glad I didn’t kick his ass,” he laughs.

“Why’s that? Because he’d have wasted ya and made you like it? Thought we already established this?”

“Yeah he would’ve,” he jibes, puffing out his chest. “But it’s interesting…”

“What is?”

“That even from beneath your lil’ dirt pile of despair you got goin’ on there, the one you built becauseof him, you’re still defending him. And his jar. On the spot. On instinct. Didn’t even stop to think about it, just bit, ready to take my damn head off if I say one cross word about either.”

I say nothing — because he’s not wrong, but I’m not about to confirm he’s right, so silence is my only option — and pull the covers back over my head.

As always, Sky and Brynn have wordlessly watched our verbal spar, the one I could swear I said I wasn’t in the mood to have, but Sky sure speaks up now. “Nice job,” she snips. “We finally we get her out and you send her back into hiding. Why’d we bring you again?”

“Because I’ll say the shit that needs sayin’. The shit you two won’t. Same reason we bring P along to any intervention that’s not hers. She’s done more than her fair share of dishin’ it out; won’t kill her to hear it for once. Isn’t that right, P?”

Brynn fills the gap for me. “Now’s not the time to try proving a point, JT. Don’t be tacky.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “I’ll let her enjoy it while she can.”

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