“Colby…” Jill held out arms. “Want a hug? Only if you say it’s cool.”
He found himself nodding, and then he said, “Yes,” and Jill was hugging him, strong and full of empathy and good at not squeezing too tight. Her usual casual hoodie—pink today, matching her faded hair—felt cozy and familiar, and he held on for a moment longer than he meant to.
“Better?” She watched him; she had, after all, known him for a long time. “Not too much?”
“I do love you,” Colby told her, equilibrium not flawless but more so than before, given support. “Better. I’m all right.”
“You know you can talk to me,” Jill said. “And if you want permission to tell him, or however you want me to say it so it makes sense in your head, then yeah, absolutely, go ahead. I wouldn’t mind telling the world. I think you should
