“You’re being melodramatic, as usual,” she mused, tracing a jagged line across the table top with the tip of her nail. “You’re not listening,” Lucy spat, tears flowing down her face, the onion on the cutting board forgotten as she plunged the knife’s tip into the counter. “I just want you to shut up and listen for once, and not go hide in your books like you always do. Would it kill you to let yourself feel something?” Su...