Page 58 of Where We Call Home

“Is everything okay?” Aspen asked, sitting beside me on one of the bales.

“No,” I admitted, my voice trembling slightly.

Penny’s eyes widened, her face suddenly pale beneath her whiskers. “Is the baby okay?” she asked, her tone tinged with fear.

“The baby is okay,” I reassured Penny quickly, seeing the panic flash across her face. “This isn’t about that. It’s me. I haven’t been feeling great mentally. I should’ve brought it up sooner, but I didn’t, and that’s on me.”

I paused, taking a deep breath when neither of them spoke. “I’ve felt excluded lately. It’s like you guys didn’t want to include me or plan things I could do, and it really hurt.”

Aspen’s eyes dropped, her face falling under the weight of guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “That was never my intention. I thought keeping things normal would help. I didn’t even think about it like that.”

“Hell, I didn’t even know about this party. Rhodes told me, and it was embarrassing to realize my two best friends didn’t even think to invite me.”

“I texted the group chat,” Aspen said, her brows furrowing as her head tilted to the side.

Had she? My memory flickered. I’d opened their messages but hadn’t replied in weeks. In my anger, I probably skimmed over everything without really reading it. And let’s be honest—if Rhodes hadn’t nudged me, I wouldn’t have come even if I knew.

“I haven’t checked the group chat in a while to be honest. I stopped answering, did none of that concern you either?” I asked, my temper beginning to flare.

The silence must have spoken volumes because Penny stepped closer, her expression softening. “You’re always so independent. I thought you wanted space.”

“That’s the problem,” I mumbled. “Just because I’m independent or like to do things on my own doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel loved or included.”

Aspen recoiled slightly, inhaling sharply.

I wasn’t trying to be harsh—I was being honest. I’d convinced myself that staying silent would protect my peace, in reality, I’d been protecting theirs. All the while, I’d been at war with myself, harboring these feelings and letting them fester.

“Is that why you stopped answering us?” Penny asked gently.

I nodded. “I was throwing a tantrum. I felt like no one cared, like you all expected me to stay the same person I was months ago. But I’m not. I can’t be.”

“I’m so sorry,” Penny said, her voice trembling as she reached for my hand, just like she had the day I told them about my pregnancy over tacos.

“I should’ve known better, should’ve said something,” Aspen added. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now I wasn’t. I didn’t know how to approach it and I’ll own that. I’m sorry, too.”

I wouldn’t tell them it was okay—because it wasn’t—but I accepted their apologies. If they could take responsibility, then I had to as well.

“I messed up too,” I admitted. “I should’ve said something sooner. But it’s hard. Really damn hard.”

“Can I hug you?” Penny asked, arms already open.

I laughed softly and nodded. “Of course.”

“Wait! I’m joining!” Aspen declared, diving in to make it a three-way hug.

Rhodes was right—talking to them dressed as Little Bo Peep and a cat made it all feel a lot easier. This was the conversation I’d needed for weeks.

“I’m sorry I shut down,” I added, squeezing them tighter. “Feelings aren’t my strong suit.”

“Boo!” Penny said with a playful pout. “I should’ve pushed harder. I should’ve known something was off.”

Aspen nodded. “I’m just glad we are talking about it now. I knew something was wrong but I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“I am too. Let’s promise to speak up from now on,” Penny said, holding out her pinky.

Aspen and I hooked ours with hers in unison. “Deal.”

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