Page 127 of Head Over Heels

“I’m sorry it’s for such a terrible reason,” I told her.

I wanted to tell her I was sorry about losing her dad, but it felt wrong, considering he was still here.

She swallowed, her eyes shiny when she looked back up at me.

“Oh crap,” I said, “are you going to cry?”

Poppy emitted a watery laugh. “Maybe?”

I blew out a slow breath. “Okay.” I motioned vaguely between us. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

“It’s weird, you know. My brothers and sisters have all lost so much; it’s literally what built our family, but sometimes I think they look at me like I’m naive, or too sheltered or something.” She tucked her dark hair behind her ears. “This is the third time my dad has had cancer. It never gets easier. Not ever.” A tear slid down her cheek, and she didn’t wipe it away. “I’ve had a lot of practice imagining what my life will be like without him. That’s still loss. It’s still grief, even if they’re right in front of you.”

Words stalled in my throat because everything that came to my mind felt trite or too simple. I didn’t know how to comfort anyone. My skills in that area were pathetic.

I’d never had to, and my complete ineptitude paralyzed me.

So I took a deep breath and imagined what I’d want someone to say if I were in Poppy’s shoes.

“Want me to bitch them out for you?” I asked.

She blinked. “My siblings?”

“Yeah.”

Her mouth fell open. “I…”

“Because I can. Ian already hates me. The others don’t know me. Greer might be shocked, but she’ll get over it. And Cameron would forgive me because we had really great sex last night. So if you want me to tell them to fuck off for treating you like a kid, I totally can.”

For a moment, I worried that I’d lost her, my one tenuous friendship in this strange little place that I didn’t really hate anymore.

Then she laughed.

Poppy held her stomach, back against the side of the couch, and laughed hard. My lips curled in a smile, and something in my chest unclenched.

Poppy’s laughter faded after a minute, and as she wiped underneath her eye, she shook her head. “Thank you,” she said. “I needed that.”

“Anytime.”

Maybe this was what it felt like to have a real friend. Poppy wasn’t the naive, sheltered one. That was me. For all the lessons I’d learned, and all the things I’d been taught, my experience in peer interactions was disgustingly inadequate.

“I’m nervous to meet your family,” I admitted. “But your brother really wants me there.”

“I’m sure he does.”

At her loaded tone, I gave her a dry look, which had her laughing again.

“I don’t know how to do the family thing,” I said, the lightness of my words skipping over the heavy way they came out of my throat. “But he promised me I could ask all his siblings about his flaws if I met everyone.”

Her face creased in confusion. “Why?”

“So I can make a list. Have you seen him? It’s ridiculous. No one should be that perfect, it pisses me off.”

Poppy grinned. “Trust me, he’s not perfect. He’s stubborn, and he works too hard, and he never takes time for himself.”

“Oh yes, please, tell me how selfless he is. I’ll feel so much better.”

“He’s a know-it-all,” she added.

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