Page 22 of Only When It Breaks

“Yep,” I whisper back. “And now you’ve got to put up with me for longer.”

Inside smells like cinnamon and laundry detergent.Homey.The kind of place you can breathe in. Her mum disappears into the kitchen with a cheerful, “Make yourselves comfortable!”

Emmie heads for the stairs, but I catch her wrist gently. “Wait,” I say. “You can’t leave me down here.”

“I didn’t invite you in.”

I groan, “Come on, Em, I’m really trying here.”

She sighs heavily. “Fine.” And then she leads the way upstairs to her room.

I don’t know what I expected, maybe piles of books, a dark corner with skull-shaped candles or something moody. But it’s nothing like that. It’s quiet.Soft.

The walls are pale blue, the kind that feels like the sky before a storm. There’s a bookshelf by the window, not just stacked butoverloaded withnovels, all with cracked spines. There are little plants everywhere, and a photo of her and Ava taped to the shelf like it belongs there more than any frame. Pressed flowers hang in simple glass frames along one wall, delicate, like she’s frozen little moments in time.

I walk over and look closer. Pale violets. Buttercups. One I think might be a dandelion, though it’s hard to tell now. All of them labelled in that slanted handwriting girls seem to master by age twelve.

Her desk is cluttered but organised. Sticky notes on the wall, a cracked mug full of pens, a notebook left open. It all feels like her.Beautifully chaotic.

I turn and find her watching me, arms crossed, standing by the door like she’s not sure whether to kick me out or dare me to say something.

“This is . . .” I pause, looking around again. “Very you.”

She snorts. “What does that mean?”

I shrug. “Kinda weird. Kinda beautiful.”

That catches her off guard. I see it, just for a second, before she folds into herself again, like she’s not sure what to do with a compliment that isn’t coated in sarcasm.

I drop onto the edge of her bed without asking, bouncing a little on the mattress. “Decent,” I say. “Way comfier than mine.”

“Get off.”

“Nope.”

She groans, but there’s a hint of a smile as she comes over and snatches a pillow, whacking me with it lightly. I catch it before she can swing again. “That all you got?”

“You want to see what I’vereallygot?”

I grin. “Maybe.” And for the first time all day, she actually laughs. Quiet.Real.

Yeah. I’m definitely staying as long as I can.

Chapter Eight

Emmie

I drop the pillow, and he grabs my wrist, pulling me onto the bed beside him. It surprises me, and I yelp, causing him to laugh too.

I shuffle up until I’m right beside him; what else am I supposed to do? Stand awkwardly by the door while he makes himself at home?Nope.I’m not giving him that power. But now our shoulders are touching, and suddenly, I’m hyper-aware ofeverything. The way the mattress dips slightly under his weight, the way he smells like soap and rain and something I can’t name but wouldn’t mind breathing in forever.

“This is a cool room,” he says, voice low, like he’s trying not to break something delicate.

I glance at him. “You thought I lived in a crypt, didn’t you?”

He smirks. “Maybe. I mean, I didn’t rule it out.”

I roll my eyes. “Typical.”

---