Page 28 of Property of Bones

I don’t feel him watching me anymore.

And that sounds insane, right? But it’s true. For weeks after the funeral, I couldfeelhim. This quiet shadow hovering at the edges of my life. I never saw him, not really, but I always knew. The smell of sandalwood as I left my apartment. The shift of a figure just out of view. He was there.

Now?

Just silence.

I think back to his last text message from four weeks ago. No follow-up. No explanation.

Jack:Stay safe, Sunny.

That was it. No goodbye. No deep, meaningful message about how we were friends now. No “I care about you,” or “I can’t see you anymore.” Not even astay away from me, doll.

Just…Stay safe.

Like I was a package he’d delivered and signed off on.

I don’t even know why it bothers me so much. Why I care.

Why I’m so dang attracted to a man who clearly wants nothing to do with me.

Okay, fine. Idoknow.

Because it wasn’t just about the way he looked at me. It was the silence that didn’t scare me. The rough edges he never bothered to hide. The gentleness he didn’t want me to notice. But I did.

I don’t really know him.

But Ifeelhim.

And even now, with him gone, I can’t stop hoping he’ll come back.

Even if all he ever says isStay safe.

Insane, right?

“Hey, Sunny, want to come to lunch with us?”

Jack might be out of my life, but Riley and Abby aren’t.

“Absolutely,” I say with a smile, clocking out for break. “I wasn’t expecting you guys until tomorrow.”

They show up like clockwork every Friday, eating lunch with me without fail. And while I’m grateful for the company, and I really am, it’s also made me realize something.

I don’t actually have any friends. Notrealones.

Sure, I’m friendly with everyone. People like me well enough. We chat, we laugh, we bond over small things. But once they walk away, that’s it. No calls. No texts. No “Hey, let’s grab coffee” or “wanna hang this weekend?”

Just… nothing.

For someone as peppy and sunshine-filled as I am, I’ve never felt more alone.

Even with Riley and Abby. I enjoy their company. They check in. They send memes and little updates throughout the week. But deep down, I still feel like I’m notpartof their circle. I’m the outsider they let sit at their table.

Which is sweet.

And sad.

And possibly a sign I should find a therapist with sliding scale rates and a box of tissues ready.

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