Page 8 of Unbroken

“Blakely,” she sighed and clasped my hand. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange all day.”

And I thought I’d done such a good job hiding it. “Nothing’s going on. I don’t know what you?—”

“Blakely,” she said, warning obvious in her tone. And I knew I wasn’t getting out of it that easily or without giving her some sort of information.

She patiently waited, and as stubborn as she was, she would wait all night if she had to. Even with her children waiting outside.

“It’s been a rough couple months,” I said cautiously.

“Rough? Are you going to make me guess why it’s been rough?”

I laughed softly and shook my head, trying to come up with something that wasn’t the truth but also wasn’t completely a lie.

“Just trying to figure out what’s next. I love managing Murphy’s, but I would like to do something with my degree. Maybe something in design.” It was the first thing that popped into my head, and it wasn’t a lie.

My degree was in digital art and design, yet somehow I found myself managing a bar instead. But it wasn’t just any bar—it was our spot, and it felt a lot like home. Even so, it wasn’t what I wanted to do forever. I felt stuck.

“I understand that. I don’t think anyone ever thought youwould stay there forever,” she said, very unsurprised by my response. “What else?”

My eyes flashed to hers in surprise, and her smile was knowing. “Don’t look at me like that. I know that can’t be all of it. So, fess up.”

“I—” I began to argue, but she cut me off with only the curve of one of her thin, red eyebrows. “I haven’t been completely honest with…anyone, including any of my friends. I’ve been keeping something really big from them, and it’s…weighing on me.”

Although I hadn’t told her anything substantive—actually, I’d barely told her anything at all—it still felt good to get some of the weight of those secrets off my shoulders. I didn’t necessarily feel lighter, but it quieted a few of my racing thoughts.

She pursed her lips and patted my hand. “Something really big, huh? Why are you keeping it from them? You are all so close—I didn’t think you kept much from each other.”

“We don’t.”

“So, it’s something that would hurt them?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes.” The word was quiet, like if I didn’t say it too loud, it wouldn’t make it true.

She was quiet for several seconds, running her thumb back and forth over my black nails before she patted the top of my hand. There was a soft smile tilting her lips, and I almost got choked up seeing the care and concern shining in her eyes. She was genuinely worried about me.

“Then you start with one.” My confusion must have been obvious because she continued, “Start by telling one of them. If it’s eating at you that much, it’s better to let it out. They’ll all understand, I have no doubt of that, but it can feel less daunting when you start with one.”

My first reaction was to completely write off the advice as sweet yet unhelpful. But the longer I sat with it, the more it didn’t sound like such a horrible idea. It was possible I waslosing my mind, but keeping everything a secret wasn’t helping anyone.

I was struggling. And there wasn’t anyone else in the world I could count on to help carry the weight more than my friends. During our argument, Luke wasn’t wrong when he said I should have told them about what Valerie did to me. It was harder to keep it from them because it felt wrong to do so.

“You’re right,” I finally said. Shelly patted my leg and waved toward the door.

“I usually am. Now, go. Happy Thanksgiving, and don’t be a stranger.”

I chuckled and promised her I would talk to her the next day as I walked into the hallway. Devon stood near the nurses’ station and by the bank of elevators with his head tipped down, looking at his phone. He heard me approach, my black boots squeaking against the newly cleaned tile floor and pocketed it.

“Where’s Sydney?”

He motioned toward the bathroom just beyond the elevators. “She had to go and didn’t want to interrupt you two.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, staring down the dark hallway at nothing in particular. Again, I considered Shelly’s advice. Talking to someone, one of my friends, sounded simultaneously like the best and worst idea. And it was one I knew I should consider. But not right then.

Without really thinking about it, I took two steps forward and slid my arms around him. My arms slid beneath his coat, and I rested my head against his chest. At first, he tensed, surprised by my sudden display of affection, but quickly he relaxed and returned the embrace.

He didn’t say anything, and neither did I. We just stood in the dim hospital corridor, arms wrapped around one another. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. All I could smell was him.

My cheek was pressed against his chest and the soft fabric of his flannel. Beneath it, I could feel the rhythmic beat of his heart,and I wondered if it was in my head or if it was getting faster the longer we stood there.

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