“I’m fine,” she says. “I’m gonna go back to the house and lie down for a bit. I’ll take the bus,” she adds in a rush before I can ask again if she wants a ride.

  I tell her to call or text if she needs anything, and we hang up. I spend the next hour attempting to distract myself with work. I can’t help worrying about Jordy, though; other than the last year of knowing her, the only experience I’ve had with teens was when I was one. Is she coming down with something or is it as innocuous as lack of sleep, getting her period, or even needing a mental health day? What if she’s being bullied at school? What if something is going on with her dad or her sister and she’s afraid to tell me?

  Despite knowing I’m overthinking it, I take advantage of the fact the center is fully staffed today, and I head out, making a quick stop to pick up some comfort items: a couple of chocolate bars, Jordy’s favorite brand of cookies, some frozen pizza pockets, and a bottle of ginger ale just in case.

  When I enter the house, it takes me a minute to realize the voices I hear are coming from the TV. I find Jordy in the living room, curled up under a blanket. I immediately recognize Ted Lasso on the screen, and I smile at her choice. She hasn’t reacted to me coming in—she would have heard my car drive up and me entering the house—so I assume she’s asleep. I take my shopping to the kitchen and then come back out to turn off the TV so she doesn’t miss anything while she’s sleeping.

  A sniffling sound makes me pause as I reach for the remote. Jordy isn’t sleeping; her eyes are trained on the screen, unseeing and teary. Several seconds pass before her gaze swings to meet mine. She blinks, and tears spill down her face.

  “Jordy? What’s wrong?”

  Clutching the blanket around her, she pushes herself into a seated position. “It’s this stupid show,” she says, giving a watery laugh. “I kept hearing people talking about it, so when I got home and saw you have AppleTV, I thought I’d give it a shot. It’s funny, and I like the soccer stuff. My brother played in high school before…well, before.” The way she says this tells me she means her brother who’s now in jail, not the one out west.

  She releases a slow breath through pursed lips, and fresh tears spill onto her cheeks. “I was cynical the first few episodes with how sunshiny and positive Ted is, you know? Like, how can anyone be that good? That kind and understanding, always willing to help and see the best in people. I haven’t known many people like that, so it’s hard to believe. But then I got thinking about how you’re like that…how you…you…”

  Her words are choked off by a quiet sob, followed by a heavy stream of tears. She shakes her head and buries her face in her hands. Alarm races through me. My legs lock, keeping me frozen in place for several long beats until I snap out of it and stagger forward. My limbs feel heavy and useless as I collapse on the couch, nearly crashing into Jordy. She turns toward me and I gather her into my arms, holding on tight and running one hand over her head and back in what I hope is a comforting motion.

  I want to ask questions or say something soothing, but I remember the times my friends have held me like this and how much I appreciated that they just let me cry. They never tried to fix things or tell me everything would be okay. Those things always came later, once I was ready to hear them.

  It feels like ages later when Jordy releases me and eases into a sitting position. “Sorry,” she says, her voice hoarse.

  “Don’t be sorry.”

  From the way she’s back to avoiding my gaze, I’m guessing she’s embarrassed. She looks relieved and grateful at my offer to make tea. I hand her a box of tissues and go to the kitchen, where I take my time making tea and putting Jordy’s favorite cookies on a plate.

  After dawdling for as long as I can, I return to the living room. Jordy accepts the mug of tea with an absent smile and sets it on the table, grabbing two cookies from the plate.

  I feel like I’m about to burst when she finally speaks. “I’ve been talking to my brother Reggie in Calgary a lot this past week,” she says, her voice still rough. “He’s glad that I’m away from our dad and staying with you.” She looks at me now, her expression rueful. “I talked to him late last night and he said he’s working on a plan for me to come out there sooner than later. He always said he was waiting because he wanted to get an apartment for us, but he talked to his bosses, and they’ll let me stay at the ranch if I agree to work there part-time and finish high school.”

  “Jordy, that’s amazing.” I want to reach out and touch her, put my hand on her arm or cover the hand that’s resting on her thigh. Her rigid posture makes me uncertain, so I keep my hands to myself. “Isn’t it?”

  “Well, yeah,” she says faintly. “It’s just…I’m excited at the idea of getting out of Bellevue, but I’m also terrified of moving to a strange place halfway across the country. And…and I’m sad to leave you.” The pause after this admission only lasts a second, so I don’t have a chance to respond. “And then there’s my dad and the rest of my family. I’d miss my niece and nephew, and my sister is about to have her new baby. She won’t be on her own anymore, though. Remember how I told you her boyfriend left when he found out she was pregnant again? Well, he came back last week after my niece was in the hospital and he promised to stick around this time and be a better dad and boyfriend.”

  “That’s great. I’m sure that’s a big relief for your sister. And for you.”

  Jordy nods, stuffing the rest of the second cookie in her mouth and reaching for another.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “’Course,” she says. “I’m living in your house and I just bawled all over you. You can ask me anything.” When I try unsuccessfully not to laugh, she gives me a half-hearted smile.

  “If no one else factored into your decision—not me, not your dad, not the rest of your family—what would you want to do?”

  Her eyebrows inch up. She’s likely never been asked a question like that before. “I’d wanna go as soon as possible.”

  My heart gives a painful little thud in my chest. I ignore it. “Then don’t worry about me or your sister or your dad or anything else.”

  “Isn’t that selfish, though?”

  “Absolutely not. It’s your life and your future, so you have to do what’s right for you. Let me ask you something else: what would you do if you stayed in Bellevue? Where do you see yourself at the end of the school year when you graduate?”

  She scrunches her nose, pondering the question. “Honestly? I have no clue. I didn’t bother applying to colleges. I knew I couldn’t afford it, plus I have no idea what I’d even take. I don’t know what sort of job I want. I figured it’d be smarter to keep working at the center while I figured all that stuff out instead of wasting time and money on college.”

  “Okay. What about if you lived with your brother? What would you do?”

  She doesn’t pause to think this time. “I’d finish school and then work for a bit, maybe apply to schools there. My brother is taking some courses online so he can keep working full-time. I could do that too.” She picks up her tea and takes a few tentative sips. Without looking at me, she says, “I think I’d feel freer there, you know? Reggie says that’s how it’s been for him; he had a fresh start, was able to reinvent himself. No one there knows his family is poor and messed up. No one knows his brother is in jail or his dad is a drunk. People know the person he wants them to know. It could be the same for me.”

  My eyes sting. I managed to hold in my tears the entire time Jordy was crying—quite the feat for me—so I can’t fall apart now. It breaks my heart that someone so young could be in such desperate need of a fresh start. I understand, though; as far I know, nobody but my closest friends ever knew what was going on with my family in the last two years of high school. People knew my mom had left, but not that our lives fell apart or that I lived with Stella during senior year. I can imagine how difficult and probably even embarrassing it must be for Jordy, wearing shabby clothes, not being able to afford anything from the cafeteria, being afraid to let people in and make friends.

  “It sounds ideal, Jordy. I’m incredibly happy for you.” I glance at the TV, which is paused on Ted Lasso’s smiling, mustachioed face. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better now,” she says. “My mind was racing all last night and this morning. I knew I should talk to you about it, but I couldn’t figure out how to bring it up. I hoped I’d have it figured out by the time you got home from work.”

  “You can talk to me anytime about anything,” I tell her. “And I want you to know the offer stands even when you’re living halfway across the country in a different time zone.”

  Despite the levity of my words, her eyes dim and her smile twists into something bittersweet, making me think the reality of the situation is sinking in. “Thanks, Hol. It’s funny…”

  “What?”

  She gives her head a jerky shake. “Never mind.”

  “No, tell me. I meant it, you can tell me anything.”

  “It’s just…not even two weeks ago, I was so worried about you leaving me because everyone always does. And now…now I’m the one leaving you.”

  “I don’t see it as you leaving me, though. You’re making the choice that’s best for you, a choice that will give you a better, happier, healthier life. We’ll still be able to text and video chat and call each other. Plus once you’re making more money, you might want to come visit your sister and the kids, and we can see each other then. Maybe I could even plan to come out for your high school graduation in June. If you want me there.”

  “Of course I want you there,” she says quickly. “That’d be so cool.”

  “Then we’ll plan for that. For now, we should make plans for getting you there.”

  “Could we not? Not right now anyway? I think I’ve just about hit my limit for dealing with all of this today.”

  “Whatever you want.” I glance at her mug on the table; it’s still mostly full. “You don’t like the tea?”

  She makes a face, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Nah, I’m not really a fan. Ted Lasso was right: it tastes like hot, brown water.”

  I burst out laughing. It feels good, as does the way Jordy giggles along with me. “That’s fair. Hey, want to get out of here for a while? Go to the diner and get some hot chocolate? It’s too early for dinner, but if we hang out there long enough, it’ll eventually be time to eat. Either way, I think your big news deserves a celebration.”

  Her cheeks flush. Her expression is pleased, with a hint of embarrassment. “We don’t have to go out. We could make hot chocolate here, and there’s stuff for dinner. I don’t need a fuss.”

  “I disagree, but it’s completely up to you. We can stay or go out. Let me use the tactic I did before: if you could do anything, what would you do?”

  Jordy’s mouth pulls to one side as she thinks. “I’d go to the diner for hot chocolate.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  *****

  The diner is busy for a Monday afternoon, so I ask Jordy if she’d like to hang out in the back room. Bea brings us hot chocolate and surprises us with slices of pie. Being back here already made me think of Spencer, and the pie brings him to the forefront of my mind once again. Before she leaves, Bea does something to the jukebox that will allow us to listen without inserting coins.

  “This is awesome,” Jordy says, turning in a slow circle to take in the room.

  “I used to hang out back here a lot when I was your age,” I tell her. “My friends and I met at the diner regularly to eat, but I’d come alone after school and do my homework back here.”

  “Ahh, the famous friends.” Her tone is almost wistful. “Do they know much about me?

  “Yeah, I talk about you all the time.”

  Jordy turns away quickly, but not fast enough for me to miss the mix of surprise and pleasure that flash across her face. She strides over to the jukebox, running her hands across its shiny surface. “I can’t believe we’ve known each other for almost a year and I haven’t met them.”

  “We’ll have to rectify that,” I say. “They’d love to meet you.”

  She doesn’t respond, but I can see her reflection in the glass of the jukebox, and she’s smiling. She presses a few buttons and the machine whirs to life. I recognize the song immediately, of course: “Dancing Queen” by ABBA.

  “Well, dancing queen?” she says. “You up for a dance party?”

  “Always.”

  Dance parties have become one of the greatest unexpected pleasures of living with Jordy. The second night of her stay, I turned on music while we were tidying up after dinner. Before I knew it, we were both bopping around the kitchen island, singing loudly, knocking hips, twirling each other, and seeing who could outdo the other with ridiculous moves. In the week since, it’s become a regular occurrence. Jordy is content with my playlists—an eclectic mix of pop, rock, and alternative that spans decades of music—and she occasionally takes over and introduces me to newer music, most of which I’ve liked enough to add to my own lists.

  “I always think of you now when I hear this song,” she says, dancing in a circle around me. “But maybe it should be my theme song since the lyrics are ‘young and sweet, only seventeen’.”

  “I’ll share my dancing queen crown with you.” I grab her hand and spin her. Her delighted giggles make me laugh, so I keep spinning her. When she loses her balance on the third spin and tumbles against me, we laugh uncontrollably as we hold each other up.

  We’re both still breathless and giggly when Jordy straightens suddenly, letting out a little shriek, then clapping a hand over her mouth. I whip around and let out a yelp of my own when I see someone standing in the doorway.

  “Spencer!” Jordy cries. I have a second to see the amusement on his face before Jordy flies forward and throws herself into his arms. I’m not sure which of us is more surprised.

  “Well, hello.” He returns Jordy’s hug with a gentle pat on her back. “It’s nice to see you too.” He meets my eyes over Jordy’s shoulder as he releases her. “Do I get an equally enthusiastic greeting from you, Hollie?”

  The way he’s grinning at me makes my brain misfire, so it takes a minute for my legs to propel me forward. Jordy scurries away to where our hot chocolate and pie sit, temporarily forgotten.

  “Enthusiastic in principle rather than practice,” I say, stopping a few feet in front of him. “Don’t want to knock into you and make you fall.”

  He murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like ‘too late’ as he wraps his arms around me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, breathing him in. We’ve only hung out a handful of times and it’s been less than a week since I last saw him, but I missed him. I try to tell myself it’s no different than the way I miss the girls when I don’t see them for a while, but it is different. It’s longing mixed with relief and excitement and something deeper. Something wonderful and terrifying I’m too afraid to name.

  That fear has me releasing Spencer quickly and stepping back. “This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here?”

  “I was on my way home from work and decided to stop in for a slice of pie to have later tonight. Bea informed me she just gave away the last two slices and there won’t be more until closer to dinnertime. She told me there was a consolation prize in the office. I had a feeling it might be you, but I wasn’t expecting the free dance show.”

  “You’re welcome,” Jordy says from behind me, and Spencer laughs. “I think we’re the ones who took the last two slices of pie. We haven’t touched them yet, so you can share with us if you want.”

  “I don’t want to intrude on your time together.” Spencer’s gaze shifts from Jordy’s face to mine and back again.

  Jordy waves him off. “You’re not. Hollie and I are together all the time these days. Besides, if you join us for pie, dessert could be our thing. I’ve never really had ‘things’ with people.”

  Ohh, she’s good. I’ve been watching Spencer’s face as Jordy speaks, and I can see the moment she wins him over. I offer to go get an extra fork and Spencer nods, amusement dancing in his eyes as he steps further into the office and takes off his coat.

  Bea is busy taking orders, so I duck behind the counter to grab a fork and some napkins. On the shelf next to the bin of clean cutlery sits the covered glass dish that normally sits on the counter with the daily pie special. I chuckle to myself, shaking my head when I see there are three slices of pie inside. And if I’m not mistaken, Horatio keeps an assortment of pie in the back since there are different kinds of pie on the menu other than the daily special.

  I catch Bea’s eye across the room as I head back to the office. Her self-satisfied grin-and-shrug combo tells me her plan worked. Between her and Jordy, I feel like I’m being tag teamed…and I’m not mad about it.

  Back in the office, Jordy and Spencer are sitting at the bistro table beside the jukebox, which is now playing “Mysterious Ways” by U2. Jordy is eating her slice of pie with gusto while talking a mile a minute to Spencer, who’s nodding along. Jordy’s eyes widen when she sees me, and her mouth snaps shut. This day continues to get weirder.

  “You could have started without me,” I tell Spencer, taking the seat beside him and laying the fork and napkins on the table.

  “Oh, that’s quite all right, I didn’t mind waiting. I insisted Jordy go ahead if she wanted to, though.” Jordy’s slice of pie is nearly gone, so it looks like Spencer and I will be sharing.

  “Did I miss anything?” I ask.

  “We were just talking about Chris—”

  “—mas decorations,” Jordy interrupts. “Christmas decorations. Bea has gone all out in the diner. I’ve only ever seen that many decorations on TV. It looks great.”

  “It does,” I agree slowly. Jordy bobs her head enthusiastically while Spencer concentrates on cutting a precise bit of pie with his fork. When neither of them says anything else, I add, “Some of that stuff has been around for as long as I’ve been coming here. Bea adds to it every year.”