Page 101 of True Colors

Theoretically, logically, I can see what he’s saying, but emotionally—no way, José, that man is toast!

“I can’t…won’t trust him again.”

When you grow up not being able to trust your own parents—my mother, who was an addict, and my father, who was a good man but flaky in his own way—you learn to take care of yourself because you know no one else will.

I made a mistake with Luther. I leaned on him. I let him in. I surrendered to him, and look what happened? My insides feel like they’ve been ripped apart with a machete.

“I fell in love, Finn.”

Finn sighs. “I know.” Then he grins and winks at me. “But, Annie, I’m a lover of Hallmark Movies. I believe in redemption arcs. They require effort, but they lead to a happy ending.”

I roll my eyes.

When we were teenagers, Finn fell sick, spent a week battling the flu on the couch, and ended up watching holiday Hallmark movies. He concluded, and maybe it was because he was high on a virus, that they were the perfect remedy for sadness. It’s been a go-to for us since then.

“I can’t afford redemption arcs,” I tell him honestly as I rub a hand over my heart. “This pain is….” I trail off because I don’t have the words.

I’m still raw from what happened. I spent the night alone, crying until there was nothing left inside of me. I didn’t want Finn or anyone else. I needed to sit with it by myself, to let it exist without being softened or explained away.

In the light of day, the pain has changed. It’s no longer sharp—it’s a dull, relentless ache that lives everywhere at once, crowding my thoughts, pressing against my ribs, settling way under my skin.

I fell in love with a man who is embarrassed by me. By my stutter. By something I can’t control.

The damage of his words is still moving through me, like a delayed shockwave.

I know it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I don’t have any experience with heartbreak—no map for how to survive the moment when the person you love betrays you so completely.

All I know is that right now, the agony seems endless.

“You know what Miss Helen always said?” He slides a plate of pancakes in front of me. “There’s nothing so bad that a pancake with whipped cream and strawberries can’t make better.”

She wasn’t wrong.

We end up going out later to meet up with Finn’s shift mates.

Kezar Pub is a short walk from our place and is popular with first responders. The bartenders there know the firehouse schedules, and no one blinks at soot-stained boots or turnout jackets tossed over chairs.

I know Finn’s colleagues well, as they’ve been working together for several years now. They’re all close; they have to be to walk into burning buildings, trusting each other with their lives.

Today, they’re being protective, and they’re being obvious about it. They know I’m upset about something, and they’ve decided that I need cheering.

Luis is the big brother everyone should have. “Milk. That’s what you drink when you’re having a shit day.”

I frown. “I thought you drank alcohol.” I raise my bottle of Modelo.

He shakes his head. “That’s where people go wrong.”

Kieran, who has four dogs and shows pictures of them constantly, shakes his head. “I’m lactose intolerant, milk is gonna fuck me up.”

“Then, you drink oat milk,” Luis offers patiently.

“Ugh!” Tamsin shakes her head. She’s one of two women on the team. She’s from Memphis and sounds like a Southern belle, even when she’s cussing you out. “Just let her drink beer, alright? You drink up, darlin’, and don’t listen to Luis, who’s crazier than a two-dollar bill.”

None of them asks me what happened.

They don’t ask why my eyes are red-rimmed or why I look like I haven’t slept in days.

They don’t ask where Luther is.