She sighed. For the briefest of moments, I thought she was relenting. “Babe, I get to be mad.”

“I know you do.”

“All those things about summer … those are things you decided. I don’t want to do the same things we’ve spent our whole lives doing. There’s other stuff, you know? I don’t want be…” She gestured with her hands. “I don’t want to be small-town Penny. There’s more to me than—than Chad, than this, than you—”

My heart was in my throat.

She stopped, her eyes darting away. “This summer wasn’t the end of anything. It was just another beginning. And those can be wonderful and scary, but mostly wonderful, and I know you think endings are really sad, but … but the world isn’t split into beginnings and endings. There’s all that stuff in the middle. The getting there. That’s what I want. The not knowing. Adapting to the change.” Penny took a deep breath. “I want to change. I want to muddle through shit and make mistakes, and I want to come back from those mistakes, if I want to. But I can’t stay the same. Not for me. And not for you.”

“Penny—”

She wasn’t done. “I thought I was safe with you.”

My heart clenched. “You are.”

“I thought my relationship was safe with you,” she clarified. When she looked at me, her eyes were glassy. “I didn’t want to be one of those girls who ditched their friends the second they got a boyfriend. I promised myself that no matter what, you’d be as important in my life as Chad. And we’d all been best friends for so long, I didn’t want to exclude you. It wouldn’t have been the same without you there, not really.” Penny wet her lips before taking a deep breath. “There were times … when I thought maybe you two were getting close—too close. Closer than me and Chad.” She hesitated. “Closer than me and you, too.”

That took the wind right out of my sails. The gasp tore itself from my mouth before I could take it back. It wasn’t as simple as I’d thought. Penny wasn’t just jealous because of the kiss … it was because she was afraid she was the odd woman out.

Tears welled in my eyes and my chest tightened, as if every bad decision was inflating inside me like a blow-up pool toy. I was barely able to keep my head above water, treading between the person I was now and who I used to be.

I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep feeling this way. I knew she was entitled to her anger and pain—even if most of it seemed to be directed at me. I didn’t begrudge her wanting space. Though I wasn’t thrilled about being cut out, I’d suck it up if that was what she needed. But I had to know if there was a chance, like Chad said, of forgiveness. I needed her to throw me a life raft.