“Listen,” Shanti said, “I know she sometimes shows it in shitty ways, but try and remember that Kat just wants her team—her family—to be safe. She doesn’t want you to get hurt either—that’s why she was so tough on you. That’s why she’s so tough on me. I think we can all agree her approach is crap. But she’s not as strong as you, Daya.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. How many people did you open up to in the past twenty-four hours? How easy was it for you? I wish Kat could do that. Who knows, maybe you’ll be a good influence on her at some point.” She kissed me.

I didn’t feel that strong right now. What I’d give to just stay in this room and keep kissing Shanti all night instead of facing Kat.

A while later we made our way, heavy-footed, up the stairs to the kitchen.

When we got there, we found Lena and Kat bent over the kitchen island, beers gripped in their hands, an open bag of No Name chips in front of them. Lena’s cheek lay flat against the laminate countertop. Her weight was all on her left leg, and her right knee was bundled up in a tensor bandage and ice pack. Two crutches rested against the kitchen table. Kat’s head was tilted up toward the ceiling—exasperation showing in her closed eyes and the uncharacteristic slump of her shoulders.

When we walked through the doorway, both looked over, varying degrees of surprise on their faces.

“What the—” Kat began, but Lena interrupted her.

“Daya, you little shit—get over here!” Lena hopped over on her one good leg and gave me a huge bear hug.

Unexpected.

When she was done, she plunked herself down in a chair next to the table and said, “Guess you got me back for taking you out in the living room, huh?” She was grinning.

I was dazed.

I shook off my bewilderment and sat in a chair next to hers. “Sorry” wasn’t something I was used to saying, but I’d already managed to get the words out to Shanti, and seeing Lena’s knee bulging with ice, I forced them out again. “Lena, I am so, so sorry about this. I really messed everything up.”

“You sure fucking did,” Kat growled as she stomped away from the island and stood over us, hands—guess where?—on her hips.