Page 114 of Tempt

When she sits down, I clear my throat.

“I have something.” The teacher’s assistants blink in surprise. “I’ve been thinking a lot about grief. I used to believe it was only about losing people. But there are different kinds of grief. There’s grief for people who’ve passed. For futures we thought we’d have. For loved ones who turned out not to be as great as we expected.”

Around the circle, a few heads nod.

“When I was a teenager, I was in and out of the hospital.” I tell them what happened. How after four years of college, I still feel like the odd one out.

“There are things we’re not supposed to talk about in public, even though if we live long enough, we all feel them. Loss. Fear. Loneliness. You think sex and politics are taboo subjects at the dinner table over the holidays? Try grief.”

The other night, I went to New York for Clay’s exhibition game. It was amazing seeing him do what he does, spending time with him. It made me appreciate how much he puts himself on the line every day. His body, his heart.

“But when we tell people what we’re going through, those emotions can connect us. We can help each other see that it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to be lonely. Because that’s what makes us human. And when those emotions threaten to overwhelm you, you take them out of your chest, look at them in the light of day, suddenly they’re bearable.”

Outside, there’s a screech of tires. A car turning onto the street.

In here, there’s silence.

“Thank you, Kat,” my professor says at last, and when I look up, she’s smiling. “Would anyone else like to speak before we conclude?”

* * *

“This is insanely addictive,” Jules moans as I come down the stairs.

“That’s for dessert,” Liv comments.

“Here’s that extra platter.” I plop it on the counter next to the cake Jules swiped icing off of. “The attic is a messed-up place.”

“Should’ve seen it when Sawyer moved in.” Liv shudders.

“What time are people arriving?” I ask.

“A few are already here.”

I glance through the back windows out to the yard, brushing my hands over my jeans. Sure enough, Sawyer’s Thanksgiving BBQ tradition is gearing up.

My phone buzzes in my pocket with a notification.

I check my email, then screech in shock.

“What’s wrong?” Liv demands.

“My professor sent me a letter for grad school.”

I can’t believe it. She seemed so set against it, reminding me she had better candidates.

But evidently, she changed her mind based on what I did at support group.

Liv and Jules throw their arms around me. “That’s amazing!”

“You deserve it.”

We hug it out until we hear a throat clearing.

“Um…I was going to offer to help, but now I think I’m interrupting something.” A big guy with tattoos—Zander, I think his name was—appears from the back door.

“Take these.” Liv hands him a stack of paper plates.

“What do you teach again?” I ask.

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