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“I wish I could agree, but for some of us, they’re the reasons we’re carrying so much.”

On the short trip back to my apartment, I realize that’s the first time I’ve everblamedmy mother for anything. I’ve always found excuses for her to get away with everything she has.

She’s sick.

She’s tried.

She needs help.

All of those are true.

But the admission makes my steps a little less heavy as I make the trek back. And that’s when I realize that maybe Clarkson was right.

When I get back to my apartment, I pull my phone out and text Olive.

Me:Take your time about us

Me:I’m not going anywhere

Me:But I’ll be here when you’re ready

I don’t expect a reply, but I needed her to know. Because my captain is right. We all need somebody.

And I need her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Olive

The book inBerlin’s hand flies across the room, almost smacking Skylar in the face before she narrowly dodges it by an inch. “That’s bullshit! It can’t end like that! Tell me I’m missing a few pages. Did I get a misprint? Did one of you bitches tear out a second epilogue to bask in my misery?”

Berlin’s outrage makes Skylar and I laugh because we’ve both been there. “You didn’t,” I tell her sympathetically. “That’s really how it ends.”

Skylar nods along. “There isn’t a second epilogue.”

The purple-haired firecracker looks like she’s been shot. “And you let mereadit? Oh, that’s evil. I could have used a warning.”

Skylar walks over and gives her a hug. “That would have spoiled it. You needed to experience the pain like the rest of us.”

Berlin sighs into Skylar’s boobs before peeling herself away. “Although I do appreciate a good boob hug, it won’t make me forget the pure agony I just experienced. I mean…really?”

Is it bad I’m giggling? “But that’s how you know it’s a good book. When an author manages to sucker punch you in the feels, they did something right.”

“More like a sucker punch to the tit,” Berlin grumbles, poking her chest. “Speaking of tits. How are yours feeling, Hot Mama? They’re bigger than I remember.”

Skylar frowns and looks down at herself. “I told Danny that too. He thinks they’re smaller. I think they’re swollen. Bentley is getting teeth, and he bit my nipple.”

Berlin and I simultaneously flinch, and my nipples start to hurt out of pure sympathy. “That’s rough,” I tell my best friend.

She hums. “Enough about my boobs, though. We’re kid free for a night. I want to gossip about boys and books and literally anything that isn’t the color of baby vomit or the things that come out of Bentley’s butt.”

Berlin scrunches her nose. “Ew. Remind me to never have kids. I think one of my ovaries just shriveled and died.”

“Just one?” I question.

She shrugs. “The other is choosing to remain cautiously optimistic.”

Her theatrics make me laugh.