Page 53 of What We Broke

“Come in,” I manage to say, my voice thick and unused.

I open the door wider, inviting her in. She knows her way around this house like the back of her hand, but she just stands there.

“Do you want a drink or anything?” I ask her as I close the door.

She shakes her head stiffly, and I hate that I make her feel like that.

“Zara.” I find the courage to say her name as I step closer, standing directly in front of her. “Did Jesse send you to check on me? Because you don’t have to do that.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “Where do you want me to set up?”

“Wait.” I place my hand on hers. It feels so hypocritical to ask her what’s wrong and to ask her to even consider telling me how she’s feeling, but the words come out anyway. “Sit down and talk to me first.”

Pulling her to the couch, I drag her down to sit on one end while I sit on the other. I don’t know which one of us started avoiding the other first but, eventually, too many months had passed and too many things could no longer be said.

“I’m sorry Jesse asked you to leave the house the other day,” she blurts out.

“What? No,” I say incredulously, not expecting or needing what she’s offering. “You have nothing to apologize for. And truth be told, I’m surprised he didn’t ask me earlier.”

I bring my legs up to my chest, wrap my arms around myself, and rest my chin on top of my knees. “I haven’t made it easy for you or Raine to be here.” Admitting that out loud makes me feel like a piece of shit, but she’s here and it feels like it’s time for truths.

“You and Jesse have held down the fort for a very long time, especially with Raine.” I chance looking at her. “And I know it hasn’t been easy for you—”

“Stop,” she says, cutting me off and scooting closer. “There is not a single person that any of this has been easy on.”

Zara stands up and shakes her hands out, almost like she’s trying to rid her body of something.

“Can we cut your hair?” she asks. “This face-to-face shit isn’t working for me.”

I chuckle, and it surprises me. “Yeah. Where do you want to set up?”

“Outside is nice,” she suggests. “And you know how much Jesse loves flyaway hairs in the yard.”

Because we’ve done this a million times before, Zara picks up her bag and I head straight outside to grab the one chair Jesse allows us to use for haircuts. We meet on the patio where she’s got her essentials set up, and she combs her way through my hair.

“You could’ve had someone else cut it,” she says.

“I know.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m kind of glad nobody else touched it.”

We sit in silence, reading between the lines, admitting, to ourselves at least, just how much we missed each other.

“What’s the real reason you came over?” I ask. “Because we both know it wasn’t to apologize for something you have no business apologizing for.”

“I did come over for that.”

“Okay,” I concede. “But whatelsedid you come over for?”

I hear her sharp inhale, almost like she’s trying to find the courage to answer my question. “I’m worried about Jesse,” she says. “I have always done my very best to stay out of your relationship, but sometimes the lines blur and—”

“Zara,” I cut her off. “I can handle it. Just spit it out.”

Her hands stop touching my head. “But can you? Handle it, I mean. Because I’m watching my best friend drown trying to keep you afloat.”

Instantly my eyes close and my head falls in shame at her words. She tries quickly to retreat. “Leo, I’m sorry.”

But I put up a hand, silencing her. She walks around me, and when I feel hands on my knees, I open my eyes and find her crouching down in front of me, her eyes glassy and apologetic.

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