9

“Come in.” I smiled, hoping they couldn’t see the strain there.

“We brought supplies.” Peyton smiled, holding up a grocery bag.

“You didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to.” She dropped down in my desk chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“It must be nice to be home,” Lily said.

“It’s… nice, yeah.” I ran my hands over my bedcover.

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s fine. I just… I saw the photos from prom in the hall and it was like looking at someone else.”

“It didn’t help?” Peyton asked.

Worrying my bottom lip, I shook my head.

Did they expect it would be that simple? That I’d look at a few photos and everything would come rushing back?

The doctor said it would take time—if it happened at all.

“It’s going to take time,” Lily said with a warm smile. She sat on the edge of my bed, her soulful blue eyes seeing too much.

“How’s work?” I asked Peyton, changing the subject.

“It’s work.” She shrugged. “I like it and the people are nice but…” She trailed off, not meeting my eyes.

“But what?” I frowned.