I wish I could tell her. Tell her the truth, have her and Dad support me in this like they did with my cancer. But I can’t do that to them. They wouldn’t understand.

But right now, I’d kill for her advice. To know what she’d think I should do. She always has the best advice. The simplest of sentences to solve my problems or at least steer me in the right direction.

Maybe someday.

“You have a visitor,” she says softly and steps aside. Half a beat passes before I hear shuffling. I expect Isobel; she’s been texting me nonstop. But instead, it’s Blake.

“Hey,” he says, waving meekly, half hidden behind my mom. She quirks her brow, a silent exchange that he’s unable to see, asking if I want her to tell him to leave.

And, for a moment, I think about it. But curiosity gets the better of me, as it always does. Isn’t that what’s gotten me into trouble these past few months?

“He can stay.”

Mom nods and steps aside. “I’ll be downstairs if you want or need anything,” she says, talking to me, but I know the offer extends to both of us.

I listen to the sound of her footsteps retreating. Blake stands in the doorway, unmoving.

“You can sit.” I gesture to the chair by my desk. He nods and closes the door behind him.

Blake doesn’t just sit; he collapses, his whole body thumping down into the chair. His shoulders, usually perfectly straight, slouch slightly, and his gaze doesn’t focus clearly on me. It doesn’t focus on anything, really. It’s like he doesn’t know where to look or what to say.

“Me too,” I say, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“Me too,” I repeat. “I’m not sure what to say either.”

“Are you…okay?”

I shrug, shifting toward him with a hiss. “I haven’t jumped, if that’s what you’re asking, so I think I’m fine? Still sore. Mom and Dad are hovering over me like hawks, which I thought I was done with.”

“I get that.” He nods. “I mean, rejection is nothing to take lightly or ignore.”

“If only they really understood it.”

“If only.”

Silence fills the room again, but it’s not quiet, it’s loud. There’s so much unsaid between Blake and me that even the stillness is filled with words. Who should speak first? What should either of us say? We’ve both said things to each other that we regret. We both talk too much, act first, and don’t think.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Blake says. “Truly, Andre. I’m glad. I was…worried. And I’m sorry about how I acted before. I never should have spoken to you like that. I hope you can forgive me.”