Avery:
I didn’t even bother with makeup. My hair was still damp when I twisted it into a lazy bun. A few pieces fell out, framing my face in a way that looked more like “tired and defeated” than anything cute. I was wearing Cruz’s hoodie again—oversized, heavy, and still faintly smelling like him. Like something I shouldn't want clinging to me, but I did.
I stopped by the donut shop and picked up a dozen, tossing in a couple of the frosted ones Nora always swiped first. A caramel ribbon frappuccino for me, iced Americano for her. It was an attempt to show up like I wasn’t unraveling.
But I was.
I stepped into the nursing desk and dropped the box like it weighed more than I could carry. Nora took one look at me and frowned, her mouth full of chips.
“Jesus, Avery. You look like shit.”
