Page 52 of What We Broke

“Well…” I smirk. “It’s Jesse. And it isverydifferent.”

She dramatically places her hands over her ears and squints her eyes closed. “I don’t want to hear about your kinks with Jesse. Hard pass. Thank you.”

Returning the scissors and the comb to her caddy, she grabs her duster brush and cleans any excess hair off my face, ears, and neck.

“Let’s wash your hair.” She guides me to the basin and then goes to check on her client before returning. “If it helps,” she says, diving straight back into our conversation, “Raine is very excited to meet you.”

“She is?”

“Jesse talks about you all the time to her.” I feel my chest tighten as she continues. “They’re the best of friends.”

“Did you ever wish you could’ve made it work with Jesse?” I blurt out, grateful she’s behind me and I can’t see her face as she answers.

“Like romantically?”

“I guess.”

“God, no,” she exclaims. “Before we’d even seen the pink lines on the pregnancy test, Jesse and I knew it was not going to happen.

“And I don’t ever feel like Raine is missing out on anything because we’re not romantically involved,” she explains. “We’re happy people. Happy parents. And that counts for so much more than whether or not we’re married.”

She’s one hundred percent right. I think of my own parents and my own upbringing; they weren’t happy people nor were they happy parents. But, for some reason, society still gives them both a gold star for staying married.

“I think what you two have is perfect,” I confess. “It kind of makes me a little intimidated.” I take advantage of the fact neither of us are looking at each other and continue. “It’s the perfect setup and it feels like such a privilege to be allowed to be part of that.”

When Zara switches off the water and towel dries my hair in silence, I’m convinced I’ve said something wrong or overstepped my boundaries. But when I catch her walking around the row of basins in my periphery to stand in front of me, I manage to pull myself upright, my spine straighter.

“We want you there.” She places her hands on her hips and smiles. “Now, just don’t fuck it up.”

CHAPTERTWELVE

leo

NOW

The knockat the door surprises me. It’s the middle of the day and everybody I know is either working or at school. Climbing off the couch, I reluctantly drag my feet and swing open the door.

I was anticipating someone selling Girl Scout cookies, maybe even someone trying to convert me to a new religion. What I wasn’t anticipating was Zara.

She stares at me expectantly as my gaze takes her in. She’s dressed in nothing but yoga pants and a sweater, her long brown hair haphazardly tied at the top of her head, and her face makeup free.

Her hazel eyes are filled with apprehension, the way she worries her lip even more proof she’s nervous about being here.

“Is everything okay?” I manage to ask, realizing for a single moment that her visit might have nothing to do with me at all. “Jesse? Raine? Are they okay?”

Nodding, she raises a familiar bag into the air. “Need a haircut?”

It was our thing.

I had unintentionally started a tradition that would be the very basis of my relationship with Zara. Over the years, we’ve argued, we’ve cried, and we’ve laughed. We’ve experienced a myriad of emotions together that would all come to a head every time I sat down and had Zara cut my hair. It’s our version of therapy, something that isn’t always about Jesse or Raine, but where we end up almost always talking about them anyway.

In the past it had made everything feel better. It made everything feel whole.

I feel my tongue thicken inside my mouth, the words stuck, the emotions holding them hostage.

On instinct, I run my hands through my hair. It’s a mess, and I know as much as Zara does that I’ve barely paid any attention to it since Lola died.

With her standing in front of me, a part of me has to wonder if my inability to cut my hair was a subconscious decision. My mind tying me to Zara and everything we’ve shared, when every other part of me has just wanted to get away.

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