Chapter Thirteen
Gracen
TWENTY MINUTES LATERYellow had told me not to worry about her while she cried.
“It’s my form of stress relief,” she tried to explain while the tears were streaming and her nose was running.
Her cheeks were mottled with red splotches, and her eyes were puffy and swollen. Yet her main concern was to reassure me.
“Some people rage, some people drink, some people bury it deep. But I stress cry. Once I get it out of my system, though, I’ll be fine and ready to deal with life again. Okay?”
I had waved a hand and answered, “Okay, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me. Just do whatever you need to do,” and I’d backed up to sit in a chair against the wall to watch and wait.
But it went against every instinct I had not to offer any kind of comfort. I was used to hugging and
