Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“Cal, we just wanted our friend back. We couldn’t sit around and watch you fall apart anymore.”
“I wasn’t falling apart.”
“Oh, please. Yes, you were. You were so lost. Ever since Easton, you’ve been a ghost.”
“I didn’t ask you to meddle in my life.”
“Somebody had to. No matter how hard we tried, you weren't getting better. We had to do something.” She takes a few breaths. “I ran into Easton a few months back.”
My eyes widen at her confession. “What?”
“Cal, he looked worse off than you. It was clear neither one of you had moved on and were both miserable. And you ask what we were thinking? We were thinking that we were willing to risk our most important friendship and put you both out of your misery. I’m sorry it didn’t work, but you know what? If you didn’t do this, you would’ve continued to live your life as this shell of a person. Always with this what-if shadow following you around. At least now you know.”
I stare at her, taking in her confession. My chest becomes tight. “I hate you both.”
“I’m sure you do. Kind of figured that would happen if this blew up in our face. But we love you enough to risk it.” She looks up at me, sincerity in her gaze. I struggle to wrap my head around how they could have done this. And then I allow her words to sink in on why. They did this because they love me. Because they would rather risk our friendship to make me whole again.
I retract my vow to murder my best friends. My lip starts to quiver, and tears fill my eyes.
“Uh, oh” and “Oh shit” echo in the crisp air.
“I need you to take me home now,” I choke out.
“Okay.”
“Like, I need you to take me home right now,” I say, tears rushing down my face.
“Okay, honey. But you have to get off me first.”
“Because I really need to go home!” I scream.
“Callie, get the fuck off me!”
I snap out of it. “Oh yeah, sure.” I climb off and fall back into a pile of snow.
“Hey. It’s going to be okay.” Ashley pats me on the head.
I look at her, a lump stuck in my throat, and I shake my head. “I don’t think it is. Please take me home.”
Tory pats my leg. “We got you. Let’s go home.”
Ashley settles me into Tory’s passenger seat while Tory runs in and gets my stuff. When she returns, I ask if she spoke to Easton. She says no, but I know she’s lying by the look on her face. Feeling emotionally beat down, I let it go. That will be a battle for another day. Or life.
Chapter fourteen
Callie
Three days later. . .
“Try this one.”
“Please, no.”
“Just try it. It’s way better than the other one.”
“Callie, I love you, but if you make me try one more of your martini concoctions, I’m going to throw up, then cooter punch you.”
“Dude, what’d my cooter ever do to you?” I ask.
“What did my stomach lining ever do to you? You’ve been torturing me for three days straight.”
“I wanna make sure I’m getting the recipe right.”
“Well, girl, you’re not. This is awful.”
“It’s because you don’t like martinis.”
“No, because I don’t like my martinis to taste like a vegetable garden.”
“Oh, you’re being dramatic. It’s a Bloody Mary martini.”
“Whatever, that was not a Bloody Mary martini. Maybe you should stick to fruits.”
“Whatever yourself. If you’re not gonna help me. I’m sure Ashley will.”
Tory lets off a boisterous laugh. “Girlfriend, there’s a reason she’s not calling you back.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because she refuses to talk to you until you’re out of this martini creation phase.”
“Whatever, give me that. I’ll try it.” I take a swig of my newest martini concoction. And then spit it out. “Jesus, that’s awful.”
“Thank you. Can we be done now?”
“Ugh, fine. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you. You told me you saw Easton a few months back.”
“Yeah, and?”
Dammit, she’s going to make me ask it. “You know. What did you guys talk about? What was he wearing? Did he—”
“See!” she points at me. “That’s the exact reason I did what I did.”
“Tory, please.”
“I saw him up at Ray’s. He was sitting alone at the bar. Looked super sad. Like a guy who hadn’t gotten over a heartbreak.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I went and talked to him, duh. I asked why he was there. He said he was in town picking up some materials for a job. So, of course, I went all out, asking him every question under the sun and learned about the cabins and where he’d been the past year and a half. We chatted for about forty-five minutes, and he just had this look to him the whole time. A look that said he wanted to ask me about someone specific. But you know me, I always make men work for it. I refused to give up any information unless he grew a pair and asked. When I got up and said goodbye, he looked at me with the saddest eyes and asked, ‘How is she?’ And that’s when I knew he was still just as fucked up as you are.”