It made it worse that Joanna was keeping all her emotions locked inside.

She used to show her feelings. Love, laughter, pain, grief. Joanna had expressed them all freely. On the day of her father’s funeral she’d howled. She’d screamed. She’d dropped to her knees and tried to climb into the grave with him. She’d been oblivious to her stepmother’s horrified demand that she pull herself together. Joanna hadn’t been able to pull herself together. The damage was too great. She was like a vase that had been dropped onto concrete. Shattered. She was no longer whole, and she didn’t care who witnessed her break into pieces. Her father was dead and she wanted him back, she wanted him back, and if she couldn’t have him back, then she wanted to die, too. That was her goal. Her stepmother had offered her no comfort. It was Mel who had pushed her way through the adults who were standing by awkwardly. Mel who had hugged her. Mel who had rocked her, cried with her, held her as she’d sobbed and tried to tear out her own hair. It was Mel who had pulled her back from the edge. Mel who had understood that she hadn’t just lost her father, but she’d lost the one person in the world who put her above everything and everyone else. She’d lost that most precious gift of all. Unconditional love. It was gone forever.

Except it wasn’t, because she’d had Mel, and they’d sworn when they were four years old that nothing would ever come between them. Mel had honored that promise. Believed in it.

But somehow Joanna had forgotten it.

Where was that girl now? Where were those emotions?

Joanna was watching her. “I couldn’t stay in touch. It would have been too hard.”

“You mean because of Nate? We were friends before you and my brother were lovers.” She saw color bloom on Joanna’s cheeks.

“That was a long time ago.”

Was she going to ask about Nate? Did she ever wonder about him? Did she regret ending it?