Page 24 of Lonely Heart

As we made our way back to the dining room table, I said, “So I have a question. Have you ever tried knitting before?”

“Knitting?”

“Yeah. You know, like blankets and sweaters and scarves. Knitting.”

We made it to the dining room, and I turned to face Ava. She was wearing a look of concern. “I’ve never tried knitting before. Why are you asking?”

I shrugged. “I was thinking about trying it out, but I’m not sure if I’m going to like it.”

The two of us sat down as Ava pulled out the food. “I don’t see you enjoying it, but I guess if you’re looking to try something new, there’s no harm in it.”

“We’ll see. I have some time yet before I need to make a decision, so I’ll keep searching for ideas,” I reasoned.

“What do you mean? Ideas for what? What’s going on?”

Noting the concern on her face, I wanted to set her mind at ease. “Nothing. It’s just that I have a few things planned for now that will keep me busy for a bit. But once I get those things done, I want to make sure I have something else lined up.”

Her brow furrowed, but whatever she was thinking, she didn’t say. We spent the next few minutes focusing on our food, and the silence was eventually broken by my best friend. “What’s that about?”

“What?”

She jerked her chin to the opposite end of the table and pointed. “Those. Why do you have boxes of colored pencils, markers, and crayons?”

“For coloring.”

“Since when do you color?”

I grinned at her. “I’m planning to start tonight.”

Ava looked at me like I’d grown three heads or like she was meeting me for the first time ever.

“What’s that look for?”

She chewed slowly, her gaze reeking of caution. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Of course. What would make you say that?”

Her eyes darted back and forth between me and the coloring supplies. “Well, you’re asking about knitting, and now I’m learning that you’re planning to start coloring tonight. What’s next?”

I rolled my eyes. “You say that like I haven’t been keeping myself busy doing all kinds of new things over the last year. And if you’re genuinely curious about what’s next, I am planning to do some rearranging of my furniture and going through my wardrobe over the next couple of weeks, too.”

I got back to eating, keeping my attention focused on my friend. She did the same, but I couldn’t miss how the silence hung heavily between us.

Just as I was about to ask her if everything was okay, she said, “Ivy, I think you might need help.”

“Moving the furniture? Yeah, probably. I just need to figure out where I want everything first. I’m not so good at visualizing stuff like that and will probably need to see it before I?—”

“Ivy, stop.”

I jerked back at the harshness in her tone. “What?”

The pain and worry etched into her features was plain as day. “I’m not talking about you needing help with moving furniture. I’m talking about you needing help dealing with what happened to you two nights ago.”

Shaking my head, I murmured, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

“You’re my best friend, and I know you’re not even close to being fine. Tell me what’s going on inside your head, because it’s clear to me that you’re struggling with what happened.”

I’d already been getting full, but with the direction the conversation was heading, I pushed it away and sat back in my chair. I didn’t want to talk about what happened anymore. I’d talked about it enough as it was.

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