Out of Guilt

I sit on the windowsill of the art room, knees tucked to my chest. I’ve had that confusion build inside my chest for the past weeks and it’s killing me.

I feel like a coward because I haven’t talked to Ryker or Bria about. I blow out a slow breath and pick up my phone, deciding to just get it over with.

Bria picks up after two rings. “Hey, Jessa.”

“Hi,” I say, soft. “Do you have time to talk?”

“