“So, a full day,” she snarks.
“Why? Are you climbing out of your mate's nest to greet the world?” Even though it was gross, I take another big bite, chasing it with coffee.
“Perhaps.” We both laugh. “Sally invited us out tonight.”
“Where?” I stand up to pour more coffee.
“Ryker and Bash’s club.”
“What’s the occasion?” I pour creamer into my cup.
“A friend of her mates are in town. She hasn’t met him yet, and wanted to welcome him.”
“More like, put him in the middle of chaos.” I return to my seat.
“Is that a no?”
“Of course not. I love the club and the chaos.” I lean back and cross my legs.
“Have you talked to Allie?”
“Not for a couple of days.”
“Sally said the newcomer is her friend, and I wondered how they were connected,” she says.
“Have no idea. I’ve been busy,” I mumble.
“Doing what?”
“Torturing someone.”
She laughs, and I don’t respond.
“Fuck, you aren’t kidding,” she gasps. Haven knows about my past. I didn’t give her all the details, but she knows enough.
“It was him,” I whisper. I was a teenager, and our teacher made us participate in a pen pal program. Haven was the name I got. We started slowly, but soon became true friends. We helped each other through our crappy childhoods and reconnected as adults.
“Rylee,” she says softly.
“I did it. He’s gone.”
“Good. Fucking. Riddance,” she growls.
“It was therapeutic," I say.
“I bet,” she mumbles. “Did he cry?”
“Yes.”
“That probably felt good.”
“Once his voice leaves my head, it will.”
“Do you need to talk it through?”
“No. I think I worked everything out.”
“I’m always here for you. I know I’ve been wrapped up in my mates, but I would drop everything to be there. Even if you need help burying the body,” she says.
