Page 88 of The Friend Game

I hear the sound of the key in the lock, then all four of them come piling into the room.

“Hannah?” Brooke flicks the light switch, and as all eight can lights come on I blink over at them. At least I’m not crying anymore. I ran out of tears about fifteen minutes ago.

I should probably rehydrate.

“Oh, honey,” Brooke says, then they all surround me, talking all at once so that I can only pick out bits and pieces of what they’re saying.

“Another job.”

“Their loss.”

“Chin up.”

“Don’t you worry.”

Apparently they all think that losing my job is what I’m upset about.

Also, I was wrong. I have not run out of tears. Here they come again, bringing snot with them.

Someone starts rubbing my back and a box of tissues appears in my lap.

“I'll get her a glass of water,” Brooke announces—her solution to every problem—and a minute later I’ve got that too.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jill asks when my tears have finally slowed.

“H-he broke up with me,” I squeeze out, my shoulders heaving. My words jumpstart another round of them talking on top of one another.

“Another guy.”

“His loss.”

“Idiot.”

“Just a third-act breakup.”

This last one is, of course, from Belinda.

Their words only make me feel worse. Idon’twantanother guy. It’smyloss.I’mthe idiot. And my life isn’t a romance novel where my happy ending is just a given.

“Okay, that’s it,” Brooke declares after we’ve sat there for another few minutes. “We’re taking you out.”

“Um,n-no,” I sputter. “Are you crazy? I’m not going out. That’s the last thing I feel like doing.”

“Which is exactly why you should do it!” she declares. “Believe me, I have been through a lot of breakups and the best thing to do is to pullyourself up by your bootstraps and get right back on the horse.”

“I don’t know, Brooke,” Jill says uncertainly. “Don’t you think it’s wise in situations like these to allow yourself to process and work through your emotions? Not just stuff them down. I think we should stay here and talk all of this out. Hannah, tell me, what is your primary emotion right now? Let’s focus on that and then we can fix this.”

I stare at her. My heart is rattling around loudly in my chest. I don’t want to talk about my primary emotion. I don’t even want to think. I just want to sit here and wallow.

“Anger?” she prods. “Hurt? Sadness? Grief?”

“Grief and sadness are the same thing,” Brooke interjects.

“Maybe a better question is what do you want to do next?” Sydney pipes up. “When I’m upset, making plans always makes me feel better. So let's plan your next steps.”

“Or we could try and focus on the positive,” Belinda suggests. “What are the good things in your life right now?”

“Good idea,” Jill chirps. “You’re obviously welcome to keep living here for as long as you want.” She catches my eyes. “Really, Hannah,” she says earnestly, “stay for as long as it takes you to get back on your feet.”

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