“You don’t see how special you are, Layla. Seriously. You make me laugh all the time.”
She stayed—through high school, through college—and every year, I kept waiting for her to realize I was too awkward, too poor, too much work.
Another difference between us? Violet had a home to return to.
All I had was a message from my brother:
“Don’t come back here, Layla. Don’t come home acting like anybody owes you something.”
So I followed Violet to her city.
Not in a creepy way. In a broke-twenty-five-year-old-with-no-plan kind of way.
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