The Fenton household felt different these days.

The halls, once filled with the familiar, comforting sounds of the family's routine—Maddie's laughter echoing from the kitchen, Jack's boisterous ramblings about his latest ghost-hunting invention—now seemed to hold a quiet tension. The air was thick with unsaid words, the kind of heavy silence that wrapped around everything and pressed down on everyone inside.

And at the heart of it all were Danny and Jazz.

Jazz had always been the steady one, the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos that seemed to follow their family wherever they went. She had always looked out for Danny, watching over him with a fierce protectiveness that bordered on maternal. After all, she was the older sibling—the one who had always been expected to take care of things, to be the responsible one, to shoulder the weight of the family's burdens.

But lately, things had changed.

Danny had changed.

And no matter how hard Jazz tried, no matter how many times she reached out to him, it felt like Danny was slipping further and further away from her.

Jazz stood in the doorway of Danny's room, her hand resting lightly on the frame as she watched her brother. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back hunched over, his hands gripping the sides of the mattress like he was trying to hold himself together. His shoulders were tense, his whole body radiating exhaustion and frustration, and Jazz could see the faint, eerie glow of his ghost powers flickering around him like an unstable current.

He looked like he was on the verge of breaking.

And it terrified her.

"Danny?" Jazz's voice was soft, careful, like she was afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile hold he had on himself. She took a tentative step into the room, her eyes never leaving his tense form. "Can we talk?"

Danny didn't look up. He didn't acknowledge her at all. His head was bowed, his dark hair hanging in his face, and for a moment, Jazz wasn't even sure if he'd heard her.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"I don't want to talk, Jazz."

His voice was rough, strained, like it was taking every ounce of energy he had left just to speak. And the way he said her name—flat, distant, almost cold—sent a pang of hurt through Jazz's chest.

She took another step forward, her heart racing in her chest. "Danny, please. I'm worried about you. You've been shutting me out for weeks. I just want to help."

Danny's hands tightened their grip on the mattress, his knuckles turning white. "I don't need your help."

The words were like a slap to the face, sharp and cutting, and Jazz had to fight to keep her composure. She wasn't used to this version of Danny—this distant, closed-off stranger who seemed to be pushing everyone away. Her little brother had always been so open with her, so willing to lean on her when things got tough. But now, it was like he was building walls around himself, keeping her and everyone else out.

Jazz swallowed hard, taking another cautious step closer. "I know you're going through a lot right now, but shutting everyone out isn't going to make it better. We can figure this out together. Just talk to me."

Danny's head snapped up then, his eyes flashing with a sudden anger that caught Jazz off guard. His blue eyes, usually so full of warmth and light, were dark, stormy, and filled with something she hadn't seen before—resentment.

"Figure it out together?" he echoed, his voice rising in frustration. "Jazz, you don't get it. You don't know what this is like. You don't understand what I'm going through."

The venom in his words stung, and Jazz recoiled slightly, her heart aching at the sight of her brother looking at her like she was the enemy. But she didn't back down. She couldn't. Not when it was so clear that something was deeply wrong with him.

"I'm trying to understand, Danny," Jazz said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm trying to be here for you. But you keep shutting me out, and I don't know how to help you when you won't let me in."

Danny let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You think you can help me? How, Jazz? How can you possibly help me with this?"

He stood up then, his movements sudden and sharp, and for the first time, Jazz noticed just how unsteady he seemed on his feet. His whole body was tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap, and the faint glow of his ghost powers flickered dangerously around him, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Jazz's heart raced as she watched him, her worry intensifying. "Danny... what's happening to you?"

"What's happening to me?" Danny repeated, his voice dripping with bitterness. "What's happening to me is that I'm falling apart, Jazz. I'm losing control, and there's nothing you can do about it."

The words hung in the air like a weight, heavy and suffocating, and for a moment, Jazz was at a loss for how to respond. She could see the pain in Danny's eyes, the way his hands trembled as he tried to keep his powers in check. He was spiraling, and it terrified her that she didn't know how to pull him back.

"Danny, I—" Jazz began, but Danny cut her off, his voice rising in anger.

"You think you can fix this? You think you can just swoop in like you always do and make everything better? Well, you can't, Jazz. You can't fix this. You don't understand what it's like to have this... this power inside of you, threatening to tear you apart every second of every day."

Jazz felt her chest tighten with a mixture of guilt and helplessness. She didn't understand—not completely. How could she? She wasn't the one carrying the weight of ghost powers, the responsibility of protecting both worlds. But that didn't mean she wasn't trying.

"I don't know what it's like," Jazz admitted, her voice soft but steady. "I know I don't understand everything you're going through. But I'm your sister, Danny. I love you. And I'm not going to let you go through this alone."

For a brief moment, Danny's anger seemed to falter, his expression softening ever so slightly. But it was fleeting, and the frustration returned almost as quickly as it had disappeared.

"You don't get it, Jazz," he muttered, turning away from her and running a hand through his hair. "You're always trying to be the hero. Always trying to fix things. But I'm not some problem you can solve. I'm not... like that."

Jazz flinched at his words, the accusation in his tone cutting deeper than she'd expected. She had always tried to be there for Danny, always tried to protect him from the dangers of the ghost world, the dangers he faced every day as a half-ghost. But now, it felt like every effort she made to help him only pushed him further away.

"Danny, I'm not trying to fix you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I just... I just don't want to lose you."

Danny's shoulders tensed at her words, and for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy, uncomfortable silence. Jazz could feel the tension between them growing, a rift that had been slowly widening over the past few weeks, and she didn't know how to bridge it.

Finally, Danny turned back to her, his expression hard but conflicted. "You're not going to lose me, Jazz. But you need to stop treating me like I'm broken. Like I'm some kind of... project."

Jazz's heart sank. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Isn't it?" Danny's voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing. "You're always watching me, always analyzing everything I do, like you're waiting for me to fall apart. Like you're waiting for me to prove you right."

Jazz's breath caught in her throat, and she felt a pang of guilt twist in her chest. Was that what he thought? Did he really believe she saw him as a problem to be solved, as someone who was broken and needed fixing?

"That's not true," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

But Danny wasn't listening. He was pacing now, his movements agitated, his hands running through his hair as the glow of his ghost powers flared brighter around him. The energy crackled in the air, filling the room with an uneasy tension that made Jazz's skin prickle.

"I'm tired, Jazz," Danny said, his voice low and filled with frustration. "I'm tired of everyone looking at me like I'm going to explode at any second. I'm tired of feeling like I'm constantly walking on a tightrope, trying to keep everything together while the whole world is watching, waiting for me to screw up."

Jazz took a tentative step closer, her heart aching for him. "Danny, I'm not waiting for you to screw up. I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to be here for you."

Danny stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of anger and something deeper—something more vulnerable.

"Then why does it feel like you're always trying to control me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The question hit Jazz like a punch to the gut, and she felt the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She hadn't meant to make him feel like that. She hadn't meant to push him away, to make him feel like he was being controlled or suffocated. She had just been trying to protect him, to keep him safe in a world that seemed hell-bent on tearing him apart.

"I'm not trying to control you, Danny," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm scared. I'm scared of losing you. I've watched you push yourself to the brink over and over again, and I don't know how much more you can take. I don't know how to help you if you won't let me in."

Danny's expression softened for a moment, and Jazz thought, for a brief second, that maybe—just maybe—she was getting through to him. But then, just as quickly, the walls came back up, and he turned away from her, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I don't need your help, Jazz," he muttered. "I need you to trust me."

Jazz's heart twisted painfully in her chest. She wanted to trust him. She did. But how could she trust him when he was falling apart right in front of her? How could she stand by and do nothing when it was so clear that he was struggling, that he was on the verge of breaking?

But before she could say anything else, Danny spoke again, his voice quiet but firm.

"You can't save me, Jazz."

The words were like a dagger to her heart, sharp and unrelenting, and Jazz felt the tears finally spill over, rolling down her cheeks in silent, hot streams. She wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that she could help him, that she could be there for him. But the look in his eyes—the exhausted, defeated look—told her that he wasn't ready to hear it. Not now.

The room was filled with a heavy, oppressive silence, the tension between them thick and suffocating. Jazz felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a chasm that had opened up between her and Danny, a chasm that seemed to be growing wider with every passing moment.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Danny turned away from her again, his shoulders slumping as he sank back onto the edge of the bed.

"I'm tired, Jazz," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Just... leave me alone."

Jazz stood there for a moment, her heart breaking as she watched her brother retreat further into himself. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, to tell him that everything would be okay. But she couldn't. Not when he was like this.

With a heavy sigh, Jazz wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned toward the door. She paused for a moment, her hand resting on the frame, before glancing back at Danny one last time.

"I'm here if you need me," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "I'll always be here, Danny."

But Danny didn't respond. He didn't even look up.

And as Jazz walked out of the room, the door closing softly behind her, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—that something had broken.

And she didn't know how to fix it.

Jazz closed the door to Danny's room as quietly as she could, but the soft click of the latch still echoed through the quiet house like a gunshot. She leaned against the door for a moment, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the sharp words Danny had thrown at her, each one cutting deeper than the last.

The hallway around her felt cold, the usual warmth of their home absent. Everything seemed muted, distant, like she was viewing the world through a thick pane of glass. She could hear the faint hum of the Fenton gadgets from the lab downstairs, her parents probably working on some new invention to capture ghosts. But the usual comfort she drew from the steady routine of their family felt hollow now, like a safety net that had been pulled out from under her.

She had always thought of herself as strong—emotionally stable, mature beyond her years. But standing here, with Danny's door closed behind her and the weight of his words pressing down on her chest, she felt anything but strong. She felt raw, vulnerable, and more than a little lost.

Her hand shook as she wiped away the tears that still clung to her cheeks, but no matter how many times she brushed them away, more seemed to come. She didn't cry often. Not like this. But something about the way Danny had looked at her, the anger and pain in his eyes, had shattered the calm exterior she worked so hard to maintain.

She had always been the protector. The one who watched out for her little brother, who shielded him from the worst of their parents' eccentricities and the constant danger of their ghost-hunting lives. But now, it was Danny who needed protecting—from himself, from the overwhelming burden of his powers—and she didn't know how to help him.

Jazz clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to stand up straight. She couldn't afford to break down now. She had to keep it together. For Danny's sake. For her own.

But as she turned and started walking down the hallway, her footsteps echoing softly in the stillness, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was failing him. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to be there for him, it was like there was this invisible wall between them—something neither of them could breach.

Jazz reached the staircase and hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward Danny's door. She could still feel his presence there, even though the door was closed, the tension of their argument lingering in the air like a storm cloud that refused to dissipate.

She had tried so hard to reach him, to be the sister he needed, but it felt like every time she tried, she only made things worse. She had always prided herself on her ability to understand people, to see what they were feeling and help them work through it. But Danny was different. He had always been different.

And now, with his powers spiraling out of control and the weight of the world pressing down on him, Jazz felt like she was losing him. The rift between them had grown too wide, the wounds too deep, and she didn't know how to heal them.

With a heavy sigh, Jazz turned away from Danny's door and made her way downstairs. The familiar scent of her mother's cooking wafted through the air, but it did little to comfort her. The usual noise of their household—the clatter of tools in the lab, the faint hum of the ghost portal—felt distant, as if the life she had known for so long was slowly slipping away.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear her parents talking in the kitchen. Their voices were muffled, casual, but there was no mistaking the excited tone in her father's voice as he rambled on about their latest ghost-hunting invention. Normally, Jazz would have rolled her eyes at their obliviousness, their complete lack of awareness of what was going on with her and Danny. But today, it just made her feel more alone.

Jazz paused outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall as she listened to their conversation. She could hear her mother's laughter, light and carefree, as she responded to one of her father's enthusiastic explanations about ghost-catching nets or some other ridiculous contraption. It was so normal. So completely detached from the reality that was crushing down on her and Danny.

How could they not see it? How could they not feel the tension that had settled over their family like a thick fog? How could they be so blind to what was happening right under their noses?

Jazz closed her eyes, fighting the rising tide of frustration and sadness that threatened to overwhelm her. She had always been the one who kept everything together. She had always been the one who noticed the little things, who paid attention to the cracks in the foundation before they turned into full-blown fractures. But now, it felt like she was the only one holding on, the only one trying to keep their family from falling apart.

And it was too much. It was all too much.

With a sharp inhale, Jazz pushed herself away from the wall and walked toward the kitchen, her footsteps heavy with the weight of everything she was carrying. She stepped into the room, her eyes falling on her parents, who were sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by blueprints and half-finished gadgets.

Her mother looked up first, her smile faltering slightly when she saw the expression on Jazz's face. "Jazz, honey, are you okay?"

Jazz's throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. She wanted to tell them—wanted to spill everything that had been weighing on her heart. But when she opened her mouth, the words wouldn't come. The weight of Danny's pain, her own guilt, the tension between them—it was all too much to put into words.

"I'm fine," Jazz lied, her voice strained.

Her father barely glanced up from the blueprint he was studying, too engrossed in his latest invention to notice the tension in the room. "Hey, Jazz! We're working on a new ghost trap—this one's going to revolutionize ghost hunting! It can detect ectoplasmic energy from up to ten miles away!"

Normally, Jazz would have forced a smile, indulged her father's enthusiasm for a moment before making her escape. But today, she couldn't even muster the energy for that. Instead, she just nodded vaguely, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Maddie's brow furrowed with concern, and she stood up, moving toward Jazz with the kind of calm, comforting presence that had always soothed her when she was younger. "Jazz, sweetie, you don't look fine. What's going on?"

For a split second, Jazz considered telling her. She considered letting it all spill out—the argument with Danny, the guilt that had been gnawing at her, the fear that she was losing her brother. But something stopped her. A part of her didn't want to burden her mother with it, didn't want to add to the already heavy weight of their ghost-hunting lives.

And another part of her—the part that was still raw from Danny's words—didn't want to admit that she had failed. That she couldn't help him. That she wasn't enough.

"I just... didn't sleep well last night," Jazz said finally, forcing a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Maddie studied her for a moment, her eyes searching Jazz's face for any sign of what was really going on. But when Jazz didn't elaborate, Maddie simply sighed and nodded, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"Well, make sure you get some rest, okay? You've been pushing yourself pretty hard lately."

Jazz nodded absently, though the tension in her chest didn't ease. She knew her mother meant well, but rest wasn't going to fix this. Rest wasn't going to bring her and Danny back together, wasn't going to repair the widening rift between them.

Without another word, Jazz turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her parents to their blueprints and inventions. The weight of their obliviousness settled heavily on her shoulders as she made her way back up the stairs, her feet dragging slightly as she climbed.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Jazz paused outside Danny's door again. She could feel the tension radiating from the other side, the palpable weight of their unresolved argument hanging in the air. Part of her wanted to knock, to try again, to reach out to him one more time. But the other part—the part that was still stinging from his cold words—held her back.

She couldn't force him to talk to her. She couldn't make him open up if he wasn't ready.

With a heavy sigh, Jazz turned away from the door and walked down the hall to her own room. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her eyes closing as she let out a long, shaky breath. The tears that she had managed to hold back in front of her parents finally spilled over, hot and relentless, streaming down her cheeks in silent waves.

For the first time in a long time, Jazz felt completely and utterly lost. She had always been the one with the answers, the one who could figure things out, who could fix problems before they spiraled out of control. But now, with Danny spiraling and the weight of their family's dysfunction pressing down on her, she didn't know what to do.

She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a chasm that was too wide to cross. And no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't reach Danny. She couldn't save him.

Jazz slid down to the floor, her back pressed against the door, and buried her face in her hands. Her body trembled with the force of her sobs, the weight of everything she had been carrying finally crashing down on her all at once.

She had always prided herself on being strong, on being the one who held everything together. But right now, sitting alone in her room with the sound of her own ragged breathing echoing in her ears, Jazz didn't feel strong. She felt small, fragile, like a porcelain doll that had been cracked one too many times.

And she was scared. Scared of what was happening to her brother, scared of the distance that had grown between them, scared of losing him completely.

But most of all, she was scared that no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn't be able to save him.

Jazz sat there on the floor of her room for what felt like hours, her back pressed against the door, her knees drawn up to her chest. The steady rhythm of her breathing had returned, but her mind was still swirling with the weight of everything she had been carrying. She stared blankly ahead, her eyes unfocused, as memories of Danny's words replayed over and over in her head like a broken record.

"You can't save me, Jazz."

Those five words echoed in her mind, each repetition feeling like another twist of the knife in her heart. She had always believed she could protect him—that no matter what, she would be there for her little brother. But hearing Danny say it, seeing the pain and anger in his eyes, made it all too clear that he didn't want her help. Or worse—he didn't think she could help him at all.

The tears had dried on her cheeks, but the hollow ache in her chest hadn't gone away. She felt drained, emotionally exhausted in a way that went beyond simple fatigue. It was as if the very foundation of her relationship with Danny was crumbling beneath her feet, and no matter how hard she tried to steady herself, she couldn't find her balance.

Jazz's eyes drifted to the bookshelf on the far side of her room, her gaze landing on a framed photo that sat between a stack of old textbooks and a small collection of childhood trinkets. The picture was of her and Danny, taken years ago during one of their rare, carefree moments. She could still remember the day—it had been sunny, one of those perfect, warm afternoons in early summer, and they'd spent the whole day outside, laughing and playing without a care in the world.

In the photo, Danny was grinning, his arm slung around Jazz's shoulders as they stood side by side. Jazz was mid-laugh, her eyes crinkled with happiness, her arm wrapped around her little brother in a playful, protective gesture. It had been one of those moments where everything felt right, where the weight of their parents' ghost-hunting, the chaos of their lives, hadn't yet touched them.

She missed that. She missed the simplicity of it, the easy closeness they had once shared. Before everything had gotten so complicated. Before Danny's powers had turned their lives upside down.

Jazz pulled herself up from the floor, her legs shaky as she crossed the room and picked up the photo. She held it in her hands, her fingers tracing the edges of the frame as she stared down at the smiling faces of her younger self and Danny. It felt like a lifetime ago—like the people in the picture were different versions of themselves, untouched by the storms that were now tearing their relationship apart.

She had been so sure back then that she could protect Danny from anything. Ghosts, danger, even their parents' relentless obsession with the paranormal—none of it had seemed insurmountable. She had always found a way to shield him from the worst of it, to be the buffer between Danny and the chaos that swirled around them.

But now... now it felt like she was the one causing the chaos. Like her efforts to help him, to protect him, were only pushing him further away. Every time she tried to reach out, to offer him the support he so clearly needed, he recoiled, retreating deeper into himself, shutting her out entirely.

Jazz placed the photo back on the shelf, her hand lingering on the frame for a moment longer before she let it go. She turned back toward her bed and sat down on the edge, her head heavy with exhaustion. The quiet of her room pressed in on her, thick and suffocating, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't know what to do.

She had always been the one with the answers—the one who could figure out a plan, who could step in and take control when things got out of hand. But now, faced with the reality of Danny's spiraling emotions, his powers growing more unstable by the day, Jazz felt powerless. And she hated that feeling more than anything.

Her eyes drifted to the window, where the faint glow of the setting sun cast a soft, golden light across the room. Outside, the world continued on, oblivious to the storm brewing inside the Fenton household. Jazz wondered how it could be so peaceful out there, when everything inside her felt like it was falling apart.

The sound of soft footsteps in the hallway broke through her thoughts, and Jazz glanced toward her door, her heart tightening in her chest. For a brief moment, she hoped it was Danny—that maybe he had come to her, ready to talk, ready to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

But the footsteps passed by her door without pausing, the sound fading into the distance as whoever it was moved further down the hall. The quiet settled over her again, heavier now, and Jazz felt the weight of her disappointment sink into her bones.

She wished she could talk to someone about this—someone who could help her make sense of what was happening between her and Danny. But who could she turn to? Their parents were so wrapped up in their ghost-hunting endeavors that they barely noticed the tension simmering between their children. And even if they did notice, they wouldn't understand. They never had.

Jazz let out a long, shaky breath and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she buried her face in her hands. She felt so alone. More alone than she had felt in a long time. And the worst part was that she didn't know how to fix it.

A quiet knock on the door startled her, and Jazz lifted her head, her heart skipping a beat. For a moment, hope surged in her chest—maybe it was Danny, maybe he had changed his mind. But when she called out softly, "Come in," it wasn't her brother who entered.

It was her mother.

Maddie stepped into the room, her expression soft with concern as she closed the door behind her. She moved toward the bed with quiet grace, her hands clasped in front of her, and Jazz could tell by the way she was watching her that she had seen through the lie Jazz had told earlier. She had always been perceptive when it came to her children, even if she was often distracted by her work.

"Honey," Maddie said gently, sitting down beside Jazz on the bed, "I can tell something's bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"

Jazz swallowed hard, the familiar lump of emotion rising in her throat again. She wasn't sure she could talk about it—not without breaking down all over again. But her mother's presence, the warmth and concern in her voice, made the walls Jazz had built around her emotions start to crumble.

"It's Danny," Jazz said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "We had an argument."

Maddie's brow furrowed with sympathy, and she placed a comforting hand on Jazz's knee. "I see. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Jazz hesitated, her fingers twisting in her lap as she tried to find the right words. How could she explain the depth of what was happening between her and Danny? How could she make her mother understand the fear, the frustration, the guilt that was gnawing at her from the inside?

"It's... complicated," Jazz said after a moment, her voice tight. "He's been shutting me out for weeks now, and every time I try to talk to him, he gets angry. I don't know how to reach him anymore. I don't know how to help him. Senior year is hard. Maybe he's just dealing with that."

Jazz shook her head, her frustration bubbling up again. "But he's not dealing with it. He's falling apart, and he won't let anyone help him. I've tried everything, and it's like he doesn't want me around anymore."

Maddie sighed softly, her hand rubbing Jazz's back in slow, soothing circles. "Danny loves you, Jazz. He's just... going through a lot right now. He might not show it, but he needs you. Even if he's pushing you away, deep down, he knows you're there for him."

Jazz wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that Danny still needed her, still valued her presence in his life. But the memory of their argument, the anger in his voice, the way he had told her she couldn't save him—it was hard to shake.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Jazz whispered, her voice cracking. "I feel like I'm failing him."

Maddie pulled Jazz into a gentle hug, holding her close as Jazz's emotions began to spill over again. The warmth of her mother's embrace was comforting, a reminder of the support she had always found in her family, even when things felt impossible.

"You're not failing him," Maddie murmured softly, stroking Jazz's hair in a soothing gesture. "You're doing everything you can. And sometimes, that's all you can do. You can't fix everything, Jazz. You can't control everything. Sometimes, all you can do is be there, and that's enough."

Jazz buried her face in her mother's shoulder, the tears slipping silently down her cheeks again. She wanted to believe that she wasn't failing Danny, that just being there for him was enough. But the gnawing doubt in her heart made it hard to hold onto that hope.

"I just don't want to lose him," Jazz whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Maddie's arms tightened around her, a silent promise of comfort and reassurance. "You won't. You're his sister, and he loves you. No matter what happens, that won't change."

Jazz clung to those words, even as the weight of the unresolved tension with Danny pressed down on her. She wasn't ready to let go—not yet. But she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep holding on, either.