Page 59 of Isaia

“You’ve been away all weekend with your new boyfriend. Maybe this is just my new look.”

She scowls. “A pouting, miserable, I-desperately-need-to-get-laid look?”

I choke on the macchiato. “A what look?”

“I-desperately-need-to-get-laid look. I know it well. It’s a look that stares back at me in the mirror after not having sex for a month.”

“A month?”

“Stop changing the subject.” She crosses her arms. “What’s going on with you?”

“It’s nothing,” I say, taking a sip. The sugary sweetness hits my tongue, but it does little to soothe the knot in my stomach. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Molly narrows her eyes, settling into the chair across from me. “Well, ‘nothing’ has you zoning out and wiping the same spot on the counter for ten minutes. Talk to me.”

I glance down at my cup, swirling the caramel. “My mom…she’s sick,” I admit quietly. Other than Isaia, I haven’t told anyone. It’s all part of the don’t-get-attached lifestyle.

Molly’s face softens instantly. “Oh, no.”

“Breast cancer.” The word feels heavy on my tongue. “She just got diagnosed.”

“Everly, I’m so sorry.” Molly reaches across the table, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s… God, that’s awful. Are you okay?”

I nod, even though it’s a lie. I’ve been anything but okay since my mom dropped that bombshell.

Still, I can’t bring myself to tell Molly everything—how my mom used her diagnosis to manipulate me into that dinner. And I definitely can’t tell her about my stepdad’s involvement in whatever twisted game he’s playing.

“I’m managing,” I say, forcing a tight smile.

“What’s the prognosis?”

“She says the doctors are hopeful.” I shrug. “But it’s a lot to process.”

“I can’t imagine. But I’m here for you, Everly. Whatever you need.”

Oh, sweet Molly. I’m starting to get attached, and that’s dangerous. Attachments make leaving harder, and I’ve always been good at slipping away before the chains tighten.

“Thanks,” I murmur, hoping she can’t see the conflict brewing behind my eyes. “You’re a good friend.”

Molly rolls her eyes. “Damn right, I am. So good I can tell when you’re avoiding something. Spill.”

“I told you, it’s my mom.”

“That’s not all of it,” she presses gently. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’re practically jumping every time the doorbell chimes. It’s like you’re waiting for someone.”

“You’re seeing things.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you high?”

“Stop.” We both laugh. “I’m serious. There’s something between you and Isaia. Everyone can see it.”

I swallow hard. There’s a slight pang in my chest, hearing his name, thinking of him. Longing for him. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“It’s the kind of complicated that makes quantum physics look like a bedtime story. Multiply that by the number of bad decisions you can make before your first cup of coffee.”

She frowns. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. He’s, um…” I glide my fingers up and down the warm cup. “He’s intense.”

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