Wren whimpers in solidarity, because apparently seeing anyone cry sets her off, too. Rory jumps up to shuffle past her and hug me, while Tayce makes a beeline for the counter, with the promise to bring back something extra-chocolatey. As I sniffle into the shoulder of Rory’s hoodie, something dawns on me that makes me cry even harder. These girls would share their jeans with me in a heartbeat.
