Page 4 of The Best Shot

“Fine,” I said.

“Fine?” Her voice went up, surprised. “Just… fine? Just like that?”

“Set it up. But I’m not promising anything.”

“Thursday. Six o’clock. Grant’s making brisket.” I could hear the smile she was trying to keep out of her voice. “Don’t be late.”

She hung up before I could reconsider.

I stood there with the phone in my hand, aware that I’d just agreed to something I couldn’t fully explain. It wasn’t Ava wearing me down. It wasn’t the group chat or Tabby’s judgy eyes at Ricochet.

It was the snort. Nah, I’m good.

Their concern bothered me. The idea that they might be right bothered me more.

I checked the group chat again out of habit.

No new messages, but Yasmine’s name sat there at the top. Quiet.

I wondered where she was right now. Whether she’d gotten the shot she was chasing.

I wondered why the hell I kept wondering.

I moved to the bathroom, got in the shower. Ran it hot enough to sting and stood there until it went cold.

You’re lonely, Hale.

The problem with having female friends?

They don’t just hear what you say. They hear what you’re not saying. They watch what you do. They connect dots you didn’t even know you were leaving behind. They see straight through you, and they will not look away, no matter how long you stand there hoping they might.

Male friends had the decency to let you stay stupid in peace.

2

“YOU SHOULD GIVE LESSONS.”

YASMINE

Home.

I shut the deadbolt to my apartment and felt my shoulders come down an inch.

A real door. A real lock. No zipper, no latch, no wind trying to pry its way through the seams. After three months in Patagonia, that small click felt obscene in its luxury.

Patagonia had been brutal and beautiful. Sub-zero winds that cut straight through you with unreliable guides and terrain that tried to break your ankles and your will.

But I got the shot.

That mother puma and her three cubs moving through the dawn light like ghosts with fur. One cub mid-pounce, oversized paws flailing, terrible balance, perfect accidental grace.

Six days of waiting, barely breathing, for that single frame and worth every goddamn minute.

Still, there was no place quite like your own place. I dropped my cases, kicked off my sneakers, and fell back onto the couch.

Three months ago, I’d been desperate to leave. Now all I wanted was a real shower, takeout from my favorite Thai place, and this couch.

Spice Cabinet — Main chat