Kennedy slid off her stool, closed the space between them, and pulled Sierra in for a hug. She held her for a minute while Sierra silently let a few tears fall. She didn’t want to give in to a full cry, because she knew, if she did, it would be an ugly one. Another ugly one.

She clung to her sister, breathing, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to force out all the thoughts, but then Kennedy ruined everything.

“And then there’s Cole,” her sister said.

The sobs came then, though she kept them silent. Just giant heaves of her shoulders and periodic gasps for air, and Kennedy held on.

“You can let it out,” Kennedy said. She had never been the nurturing type, and that made her gentle care now all the more meaningful to Sierra. Which only made her cry harder.

Sierra grasped on to her and couldn’t have stopped letting it out if she’d wanted to. When the sobs finally calmed a few minutes later, she pulled away enough to look around for the napkins she’d brought out. She used them to dab at her eyes, knowing her mascara had to be a mess, and then she blew her nose. When she could get words out, she said, “How did you know?”

She hadn’t told her sister about splitting up with Cole, had never really committed verbally to bringing him for Thanksgiving dinner even though Kennedy had told her to invite him. Yesterday Kennedy had texted to see if he was going to be there, and Sierra had merely replied that he was spending it with his own family.

“Not born yesterday,” Kennedy answered. “You guys were spending a lot of time together. Every time we texted, Cole was either around or out of town. Then, the last couple of days, he was neither. What happened?”

Sierra took a shaky breath as Kennedy moved her stool closer and climbed back up. She launched into what had happened Monday night between her and Cole, told her enough about Cole’s background that she could understand his issues without giving away the most private stuff he’d told her. Kennedy caressed her arm with one hand and held on to her wineglass with the other, sipping quietly as Sierra got everything out.

“You did the right thing,” Kennedy said when she finished.

With that pronouncement, Sierra’s tears came back with a vengeance, when she’d thought she had cried them all out. “I miss him, K.”

“I know you do. But he’s got to figure out his shit. You can’t do that for him.”

Sierra merely nodded, swallowing down another round of crying, because damn, she was exhausted. Instead, she took a swig of wine, closed her eyes, savored the subtle spice of it, and took another few swallows. To hell with sipping politely.