Page 95 of Fractured Ice

The word girlfriend does what it does every time she says it, which is make every single thing in my chest rearrange itself into something better than it was before.

"My girlfriend," I say.

"Don't start."

"My girlfriend is leaving."

"Ethan—"

"My girlfriend, Sienna Park, the one I've liked since forever⁠—"

"I'm leaving," she says, and she's smiling, properly smiling as she stands up and kisses me once more, quick and deliberate, and touches the necklace with two fingers.

Then she's out the door.

I lean back on the couch and look at the ceiling and Jace says, from across the room, "You're still doing it."

"Doing what."

"Smiling at the air."

I keep doing it.

Outside, the March afternoon is doing whatever March afternoons do, and somewhere out there Knox is working through something I don't know how to help with yet. Eventually, there will be conversations and complications, and all the ordinary difficulty that comes with trying to go after the thing you really want.

But right now I'm sitting on this couch, thinking about a gold heart on a necklace, and the word girlfriend said in Sienna Park's voice. I feel like I could take on anything.