Page 185 of Heartbeats & Highways

Waverly and Sailor were facing each other in the kitchen, looking like adversaries instead of best friends. They were too consumed with each other to notice that we’d come in.

“I’mnotgoing!” Sailor yelled. “You can’t make me.”

“You’re seriously standing there telling me you’re not going to his funeral? That’s insane,” Waverly replied. “You have to go.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t watch while they bury him.” Sailor’s voice broke.

“You have to face it.”

“Don’t tell me what I have to face, Waverly. You don’t understand. The man you love is still alive.”

Willa cleared her throat.

Sailor’s fists were clenched at her sides and when she turned to look at Willa, horror etched across her features. She ran from the apartment.

Waverly tried to go after Sailor, but Willa stepped in front of her sister. “Let her go.”

Waverly reluctantly nodded. “I don’t know what to say to her. I think I just made it worse.”

“Sometimes saying nothing and being there is all someone needs.”

Waverly turned blue eyes to Willa, pleading. “It’s been awful. She’s been crying or yelling. Sometimes both at the same time.”

“She’s processing,” Willa said. “We all are. But it’s no secret how Sailor feels about Acid.”

“Yeah.” Waverly nodded. “I’m afraid this is going to be the thing she never gets over.”

“Making her go to his funeral is not going to help that. If anything, it might make it worse, and she’ll just be mad at you too. Just let her be in her feelings. This is for her to deal with in her own time. And if she skips his funeral and later regrets it, that’s not your fault. We can hold space for people to make their own choices, but we don’t have to carry the burden of the consequences of them. Only they can do that.”

She looked at me when she made that last statement.

“Subtle,” I mumbled.

Waverly rubbed the back of her neck. “I wish I could help her through this.”

“You can. Just by letting her be who she needs to be. That’s all any of us can ask for, at the end of the day. You know?”

Waverly sighed and looked at me. “Hey, Evie. Sorry you had to hear all that.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. “We’re all just trying to feel our way through an emotional mess.”

“Do you have anything Evie can wear to the funeral?” Willa asked. “I don’t have anything that will fit her.”

“I have some clothes that will probably work. If not, Sailor does.” She shook her head. “God, it feels like just yesterday I was giving Sutton something to wear to a funeral. But the last funeral we went to . . . I want to stop going to funerals.”

“You and me both,” Willa murmured.

Waverly sighed. “Come on, I’ll show you my closet.”

“I’m going to go check on Sailor,” Willa said.

I nodded and then followed Waverly to the shared closet. It was brimming with clothes. They were both teenage girls of a similar age, but they were so different in style. I could tell where Waverly’s funky 80s and 90s clothes ended and Sailor’s softer, more conservative style began.

“I suggest this dress,” She pulled out a turtleneck sweater dress with long sleeves. Her gaze lingered on my bruises, but thankfully she didn’t outright mention them.

“Thanks.”

“I know . . .” Waverly bit her lip. “I know why we’re burying Acid. How you and Savage met. Where he—you—have been the last few days.”

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