My next inhale burned as I recalled the memory that would be etched into my brain for the rest of my life. Last Sunday, I’d been cramming for a test in my anatomy class and had barely been able to keep my eyes open — thanks mostly to my tossing and turning all night, which was my normal sleep routine now. So, in a desperate attempt to wrangle my focus, I’d jogged over to Rum & Roasters.

But I’d never made it inside.

Through the windows of the shop, foggy from the warmth inside combatting the bitter cold outside, I’d seen her.

In Shawn’s arms.

My heart bottomed out at the sight, at how she held him tight before looking up at him with a smile that used to belong to only me. He’d said something to make her laugh, and that was all I could stomach before I had to tear my gaze away and jog past.

She’d moved on.

God, how I wanted to be happy that she had. I wanted to feel relief that I hadn’t broken her completely, that Shawn was there for her to pick up the pieces I’d left behind. I wanted to find solace in the knowledge that she was going to be okay, that he was going to take care of her.

But it only made me sick with possession and dizzy with rage.

It was a betrayal, one I felt like a sword through my stomach — which I promptly emptied after I stumbled away from the coffee shop and found a trash can off the sidewalk path that circled campus.

It was a beating I deserved, one I shouldn’t have been even a little surprised or upset by.

But it fucking killed me.

“Hey,” Maliyah said, jarring me from my memory and snapping my attention from Giana to her. She slid her arms around my waist, pressing up on her toes to peck a kiss to my lips before I could pull away. “Great practice. Let’s get inside. I’m freezing.”

I swallowed, nodding as I tucked her under my arm with that same familiar nausea rolling through me.

And I caught Giana’s gaze on our way in, holding it as she looked from me to Maliyah and back again. Those Caribbean-blue eyes burned a hole through me even from yards away, and I wanted to memorize them, to stare so long I wouldn’t forget the exact shape and color of them for as long as I lived.

But she turned away, back to what she was doing — all without a single ounce of emotion showing that she cared.

Maybe I hated the weather because it matched my mood so well. Maybe I longed for sunshine and clear skies because I thought they could act as some kind of miracle drug that would snap me out of my pathetic haze.