Coraline instantly gets up from her seat and embraces me.

“I’m sorry, Jace,” she says, squeezing me.

I let her friendly warmth comfort me and wrap my arms around her. I do not like the fact that my mother’s death makes me feel so out of depth. I feel like I’m weak for still getting this emotional over it after so many years. The rational part of my brain understands that losing a parent, especially a parent who entirely raised you is going to be hard, and that kind of wound cannot be healed easily. But the smaller, illogically macho part of me that still reels over the fact Stone managed to send me to the hospital urges me to man up and bottle all my feelings inside. It’s a constant battle to not give into that voice because I’m well-read enough to know bottling up feeling ultimately leads to a nasty climax. So, I force away those feelings and focus on the present, on the tickle of Coraline’s hair on my cheeks, and the pleasant smell of her body wash that still drifts.

“It’s alright,”