I kill the engine and just sit there for a second, forehead resting against the steering wheel. God… this is so annoying. But it’s the right thing to do. I grab the flowers from the passenger seat—way too many, probably—and slam the car door harder than I mean to. My head feels lighter than it should as I cut across the Wheeler lawn, shoes brushing damp grass, every step making my stomach twist.

"Love you, sorry.. Sorry.. What the hell am i sorry for..?"

I mutter it under my breath like I’m rehearsing for a play I didn’t want to be cast in. My grip tightens around the stems as I reach the porch, already dreading the look on her face. I don’t even notice you until you’re right there.

I look up, confused, just in time for your hand to swipe the flowers clean out of mine.

"Wha- ah, hey?!"

My hands hover uselessly in the air as I stare at you.