I rub the back of my skull and turn to see a pissed-off Ellen.

“How did you—”

“Mable,” Ellen says. She’s livid, and now I hate myself even more.

I sigh in shame. “I didn’t call her a whore, exactly. I told her not to be a whore, which is different.” And oh hell, that was the wrong thing to say.

“You stupid boy.” Ellen smacks me again.

“Ouch.” I’m not sure if I mean the smack or her words.

She leans in. “I know you have shit, Levi. I know the past kills you. But pushing Pixie away isn’t going to ease the pain.”

Her eyes have me trapped. They’re locked and loaded and calling me out with nothing but concern. And for a moment, I see my mother staring back at me. Wanting more for me. Believing in me.

My heart thickens in my throat.

“I don’t want to ease the pain,” I say, completely serious.

Ellen watches me for a moment, hardness and sympathy warring in her eyes. “Yes, you do,” she says. “And so does Pixie.”

I watch her walk away, wishing I could undo the entire last year of my life.

With everything I need from the closet, I head up to my room. The hole in the wall gapes at me once I open the door, and I suddenly want to make it bigger. Smash it all to hell. Maybe break some bones, draw some blood.

I spend the next forty-five minutes patching up the damaged drywall and the rest of the day keeping myself busy with other repairs. Loose hinges, burned-out lightbulbs, busted pipes. Just anything to keep my hands busy and my head silent.

When there’s nothing more to fix, I change my clothes, head outside, and start running the old stone stairs. Scaling steps. Climbing to nowhere. Home sweet home.

“I’d offer you tequila to cure your crappy mood, but since you don’t drink, I have the next best thing.” Jenna holds a pint of strawberry ice cream and a spoon out to me. “Go to town, girl.”

After my run-in with Levi this morning, I spent most of the day trying not to cry as I clanged innocent pots and pans and took out my frustration on the dinner asparagus. Mable didn’t say a word, but she kept a watchful eye on me all day.

Ellen came into the kitchen at one point. She watched me slice vegetables with a vengeance and stir fettuccini like the noodles needed to be punished, and then she stroked a hand across my shoulder blades before leaving. It was simple, but it brought me the comfort I needed.

I managed to get through the rest of the day without manhandling any more food products, and then I hightailed it over to Jenna’s. I needed to get the hell out of the east wing.

I take her offering. “I’m not in a crappy mood.”

“Yes, you are, and it’s completely understandable.”

“It is?” I ask, filling my mouth with strawberry.

She nods. “Breakups suck.”

Oh yeah. The breakup. I’d almost forgotten about that.

We plop down on the single couch in her tiny apartment, me with my pint of fat calories and Jenna with a rocks glass containing a concoction I’m sure Earl and his senior citizen golf buddies would appreciate.

“I’m confused, so let’s recap,” Jenna says, turning to face me as she leans against the arm of the couch. “So Matt told you he loved you.”

“Yes,” I say, nodding once.

“And then you dumped him.”

“Yes.”

She cocks her head. “Because somehow you know he doesn’t love you?”

“Exactly.”

Jenna sighs. “Girl. You might need something stronger than ice cream.”

I try to muster up some grief over my ex-boyfriend. “I just wish Matt hadn’t dropped the ‘love’ bomb, you know? We had a good thing going. Why did he have to mess it all up?” I shovel more strawberry goodness into my mouth.

“Yeah.” She spins the ice around in her glass. “It’s super annoying when dreamy guys say they love you.”

I groan and drop my head against the back of the couch. “I know I sound like a baby, and I know breaking up with Matt seems over-the-top, but I just couldn’t stay with him. I wasn’t me.”

Jenna takes the ice cream carton from my hands and eats a spoonful. “You didn’t feel like you could be yourself around him?”

I think about it. “It’s not that I couldn’t be myself. I just… I just didn’t want to be myself. He and I… we just didn’t feel right. Do I sound crazy?”

“Yes.” She nods. “But the good kind of crazy.”

I rub my face. “This day has been super shitty.”

She wrinkles her brow. “I thought you and Matt broke up a few days ago.”

“What?” I sit up. “Oh. Yeah. We did.” I take the ice cream back. “But then Levi and I got in this fight this morning and it was so stupid, but it just infected me, you know?” I cram an oversized bite into my mouth.

“What did you and Levi get in a fight about?” Jenna narrows her gaze. “Do I need to voodoo his ass? ’Cause I will.”

“It was nothing really.” I wave my spoon flippantly. “This Daren guy was trying to talk me into going to our hometown’s Fourth of July lake party and Levi happened to be standing there when Daren kissed me—”

“Some guy kissed you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like that. It’s—never mind. It’s complicated.” I sigh again. “But it pissed Levi off, which is understandable, but then Levi said some things he didn’t mean, which is also understandable, but God. It hurt, you know?” I shake my head and look down at the ice cream. “And it made me miss Charity.”

Jenna goes very still. “Levi’s sister?”

I nod and stab at a few chunks of frozen strawberry.

Charity and I met in kindergarten and became instant best friends the day she invited me over to play at her house. That was the first time I was introduced to the Andrews family. To happiness. Love.

“This is my friend, Sarah,” Charity introduced me to Levi. “Sarah, this is my brother, Leaves.”

She always called him Leaves, like he was made of Thanksgiving decorations or something. I used to call him that too. Before.

Growing up, Charity taught me how to be beautiful and free and brave, and she shared her family with me when I was desperate for one myself. She was my other half. We laughed and cried and talked about boys and had sleepovers and dreamed about the future. We were inseparable.

Jenna’s golden eyes study me. “Do you want to talk about her?” she asks quietly.

“No.” I stare at the ice cream.

“Do you want to talk about Levi?”

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about—”

“No,” I say sharply. I swallow and try to compose my violent tone as I look up. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be bitchy. This is my fault. I know I brought it up. I know I should want to talk about it. But I just—I can’t.”

She nods with a half smile and shifts her weight on the couch. “That’s okay.” A beat passes. “Let’s just talk about something else.” She smiles again, but this time it’s real and warm.

God, I love Jenna and her unflinching ability to roll with my closed-off past.

“Like what?” I take another bite and try to swallow down my emotions along with the dessert.

“Like… what are you doing next semester? Jack mentioned that New York might be back on the table…?”

My heart starts to race. “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.” The ice cream feels too cold in my hands. “What are you doing next semester?”

She shrugs. “Going back to ASU. Getting another tattoo. The usual.”

“Another tattoo?” I lift a brow. “With what skin?”

She looks down at all the ink covering her belly, arms, and legs. “I’ll find room somewhere. I want a sea horse.”