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Sitting in my car outside of the school, I send her another text.

Me: I’m about to leave work. Are you home?

It joins the other unanswered messages, and I wait anxiously for a reply. There’s an annoying, restless feeling prowling beneath my skin that only grows stronger with every minute I sit and stare down at the screen.

Clicking on her contact name, I smile at the photo that pops up. It’s from our mountain hike with the runoff sparkling behind our heads. Bryce is mid-eye roll, but I’m grinning so wide I remember the way my cheeks ached afterward. Until now, I never noticed the slight crook of her mouth, like she couldn’t help but smile just a little bit but didn’t want me to know she was really enjoying having her picture taken.

I call her, but she doesn’t answer. With worry nipping at my stomach, I send off another text.

Me: Should I be worried that you haven’t messaged me? Are you okay?

I let the phone fall into my lap and lean my forehead against the steering wheel. There was this feeling in my gut all day that told me something was wrong, but I pushed past it, too excited to just see her again. I should have paid more attention to it.

Bryce’s mother is a soft spot for her, and I swear, if she made things worse, I’m going to?—

My phone starts vibrating, and Bryce’s name, along with our photo, appears before I answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Just hearing her voice makes me smile.

“You didn’t answer any of my messages. I was worried.”

“I didn’t know what to say. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today.”

My smile drops. “Thinking about what? How did it go with your mom?”

“She started crying when I brought up her not being supportive of my sexuality. But honestly, I don’t think that matters. She can cry and tell me anything she thinks I want to hear, and I don’t actually think it would make much of a difference right now.”

“I’m sorry, Frosty.”

“I quit the office job and told her I was done with the dates.”

“I’m proud of you.”

A pause on the line over the droned buzzing noise of a tattoo gun. “I want you to do something for me, Daisy.”

No Sunshine. For some reason, that has me sitting up a bit straighter.

“What is it?”

“I’m going to crash somewhere else tonight, and I want you to take the space to think about whether you’re sure about us moving forward.”

“I don’t need a night alone to decide that. I already know the answer, and it’s yes,” I rush out, fear swallowing the last few words.

“Please. Just, please think about it. I’ll be home tomorrow, and we can sit down and talk. But tonight, just see if you change your mind. Things will be different for us now, and I need you to be sure that you’re okay with that.”

This is the part of Bryce that’s been hidden beneath layers and layers of ice. The woman who, like every other person who cares about someone with such an incredible fierceness, still needs reassurance but always feels uncomfortable asking for it. Like she thinks it will make her appear needy or insecure.

It’s the opposite. It makes her brave and confident enough in herself to know what she needs from someone she cares about.

“Okay, I’ll take the night. But I want to see you tomorrow morning before I leave for work.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. And Bryce?”

“Yeah?”