Page 117 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

I sense movement behind me, and when I turn, Sebastian is there.

“What are you doing here?”

“You aren’t okay, are you?”

My eyes fall from his.

“Come on,” he says, holding his hand out for me, “it’s freezing out here.”

Slipping my palm against his, we walk over to his car and get in. He turns on the heater, and when he reaches into the back seat and grabs a couple of blankets, I slip off my wet coat and wrap myself up.

“What’s going on?”

As I grip the edges of the blanket, my emotions begin to thaw.

“You didn’t have to leave your friends for me,” I tell him.

“I wanted to.”

He stares at me from across the dark car, the lights from the dash illuminating his face.

“So, what happened?”

“My parents were fighting.”

“Your dad’s already home?”

I nod. “He said he hated her.”

The warmth of his car melts my frozen tears, but I can’t swallow them because the strain in my throat hurts too much when I try.

I turn away from him and look out the side window, saying, “I don’t want my family to split up.”

“Maybe it’ll be better once they’re apart.”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

He reaches over and takes my hand, and when I look at him, he tugs me closer, hugging me from over the small console that separates us. Tucked against his neck, I cry and mumble, “I hate this.”

“I hate it for you.”

“It isn’t fair.”

His hand slips behind my head, and he strengthens his hold. “Nothing about this life is fair.”

And then I think about him and how his father was stolen from him in an instant. I can’t even imagine my dad dying. It seems stupid for me to be crying over my parents when he’s going through something so much worse.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

I pull back and wipe my face. “Because my problems are stupid compared to ...”

“Compared to what?” he says, and when I look at him, he asks, “Compared to mine?”

Bashfully, I nod, and he shakes his head.

“Your problems aren’t stupid, Harlow.”

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