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“Brin is fine.”

“Good.” Fallon patted the couch next to her, expecting Savannah to sit. “Then what’s wrong?”

“I…” Savannah bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from talking. She slid onto the couch and shook her head, her hair spinning around her face. “I can’t talk to you about it.”

“Your case.”

Nodding, Savannah folded her hands together tightly. “I can’t talk to anyone about it.”

That was unfortunately enough to start the tears again. She’d felt alone when Conrad had left her, but she’d never felt more alone than now. She was in her grief, spinning circles in ways that weren’t productive, and no one was there to join her through the motions of just missing her best friend, her brother, the person that could never be replaced in her life.

Fallon crossed her legs, sighing as she leaned back into the couch. She looked across the room before giving Savannah a hard stare. “When my mother died, I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone. I mean, Monti was right there, but she was two—what could she honestly say. And Tia…” Fallon sighed heavily. “Tia was dealing with her own drama. Her brother was an abuser, an addict, and a murderer, and he was dead.”

Savannah tensed. She slowly turned her gaze to meet Fallon’s.

“For years, I spun in circles with what I felt like was no one to talk to. I mean Tia sent us to therapy because she was told it would be helpful, but without the right therapist—”

“It doesn’t do any good,” Savannah interrupted.

“It doesn’t,” Fallon agreed. “I can talk to you about Conrad and about the loneliness that becomes the center of your world when you lose someone that close to you. I can talk for hours about how it never really goes away, we just get better at dealing with it. We can get drunk and share the horror stories of our families together. None ofthatis a part of your case.”

Hope bloomed in Savannah’s chest. “You’d really do that?”

Fallon pursed her lips, pausing and then nodding. “I would.”

“You never struck me as someone who would talk about vulnerabilities.” Savannah relaxed. This was what she’d needed—exactly what she’d needed. Someone who wasn’t afraid to admit that her grief still existed. Someone who would makespace for it to tear her apart and then be there while she built herself back up.

“I’m not,” Fallon answered honestly. “But you keep surprising me with yours. I feel it’s only fair to share mine.”

Savannah smiled, her eyes lighting up even through the tears.

“Kyla won’t talk about him. Not really. I mean she won’t talk about him not being here anymore.”

Fallon nodded, taking Savannah’s hand in her own and curling their fingers together.

“I miss him. I want him here. I want to go back to how everything was before—well, almost everything.” She’d never go back to being with Forrest, that was for damn sure. And she was fairly certain she didn’t need to say that out loud for Fallon to understand. “It’s like he left, and there’s the giant hole in me, and I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

“It might not.” Fallon squeezed Savannah’s hand tightly. “And I know that’s not what you want to hear.”

“I might not want to hear it, but it might be what I need.” Savannah gave her another watery smile. She leaned her head against Fallon’s shoulder and breathed in her scent. “Everything is moving on, and I feel like I’m stuck. I just can’t… get over it.”

“Is it that other people expect you to get over it or you expect yourself to?”

“I don’t know.” Savannah closed her eyes. “People have told me that it’s time to be over it, to move on, but I don’t feel like I have to.” She scrunched her nose. “Brin said that Forrest is dating someone.”

She could feel Fallon tense, the tightness in her shoulders that must have gone all the way up through her neck and down her back.

“Brin doesn’t like her, though I don’t suppose she’d like anyone who is a new significant other at this point. I just wishhe’d told me so I could help walk Brin through it all, you know? It can’t be easy on her.”

“No, I don’t imagine it is.” Fallon’s voice had dropped. “That’s something I don’t have much experience with.”

“Me either.” Savannah moved to sit up slightly. “I wish people talked about it more.”

“Talked about what?”

“When people die young. I feel like all the grief share groups are filled with old people and widows. There’s no room for me, a twin sister who feels like she’s lost her other half.”

“There probably isn’t a lot of space for you, just like there isn’t a lot of space for a nine-year-old who’s orphaned.”