She doesn’t say it because she knows Hannah doesn’t want to rely on her help, but she knows she’s going to do whatever she can to make sure Hannah going back to finish her degree becomes a reality.

vii

vii

Caroline knows if she had some more sense, she would put some distance between them.

She knows that. She knows that this is the worst possible path for her feelings to be cliff diving down into.

But it’s more than that, it’s not just all about these feelings. It’s also about the way Hannah tells her one night, “I haven’t had a friend like you in my entire life.”

And how she says it back because it’s true.

Kris tells her, not unsympathetically, when they have dinner the following week, “I’m glad you’re friends with her. That’s great.” She takes a sip of her water before she gives Caroline a knowing look. “You’re going to be so fucked, and not in any fun way.”

***

Caroline realizes just how fucked she is on Memorial Day.

Caroline goes to pick up Hannah and Abbie for her brother’s barbeque, frowning when there’s no excited footsteps to answer the door. Abbie always runs to answer the door when she knows Caroline’s coming. And honestly, she adores it. There’s a special spot reserved in her chest for the grin Abbie shoots her every time she sees her.

When she knocks on the door for the third time, she’s feeling pretty damn concerned that something has happened because neither Hannah nor Abbie have ever forgotten plans. Hannah hasn’t answered her calls, either, which – she hates this gnawing feeling in her stomach, but, like, she’s almost ready to knock the door down.

Before she can do something drastic, though, the door opens slowly.

Caroline’s eyes widen at the sight of Hannah. With bags under her eyes and her hair haphazardly sticking up, she looks unlike she’s ever seen her.

And for a moment, Hannah looks confused to see her, too. Before a moment of dawning clearly comes over her. “The cookout.” Her voice is nasally, clearly congested. It makes sense with how run down she looks. She shakes her head, her cheeks pale and eyes watery. “I’m so sorry. I meant to text you, but we were up most of the night and I’ve been letting Abbie play on my phone all morning.”

Abbie, she learns, came down with the bad cold yesterday morning that was going around her school. And by the sound and the look of it, Hannah is sick with it, too.

“I’m sorry.” Hannah says again, leaning against the doorjamb as she covers a yawn. “Tell your family thanks for inviting us? Abbie’s going to be so upset when she realizes she’s missing it.”