Page 77 of Quiver

“You can’t say something like that, like it’s an either-or proposition.”

“It is.”

She shook her head and pushed back from the table. “We’re not that simple. We never have been, or maybe we thought we were, but there are a million reasons, and slings and arrows can’t even begin to cover the damage—”

“And none of those things change whether or not you love her, they only complicate what you intend to do about it. But she laid her cards on the table yesterday. She put herself out there, and spoke her truth—”

“On drugs!” Kylie exploded. “Bex had her high as a kite. She doesn’t even remember telling me.”

Ava’s posture softened. “I’m sorry. That must be hard.”

She clenched her jaw. “I don’t need sympathy.”

“No, because, in the end, you remember it. And I do. And Bex does. It’s out there now and there’s no reeling it back. It’s up to you to meet her vulnerability, her honesty. You have the chance to do something about this cycle that sucked all of us in and pulled us all down.”

Kylie rose. “I think you’re making too much of this.”

Ava hopped up. “And I don’t think you’re giving enough back, which is of course your right, but as someone who still cares about Fletcher in ways that aren’t complicated or convoluted, she deserves better.”

“I don’t make a habit of bending to other people’s opinions of what I owe anyone else.”

“Believe it or not, I respect that, and I’m not asking you to waver on what you feel, but I am asking you to think about how you intend to go forward. Ask yourself what you genuinely want and what she deserves. As someone who held onto outdated and unreasonable ideals with her too long, I can at least speak to the value of serious self-reflection.” Ava walked over to the entryway and slipped into her shoes before turning back to add, “And pardon me if I’m off base here, but I don’t think either of you has done much of that. Yesterday gave you both plenty of opportunities and reasons to reexamine those choices. She took them. You didn’t. I hope you’ll stop and consider that for a few minutes.”

Then she let herself out, leaving Kylie alone with nothing to say, and no one to say it to.

Well, no one but the woman sleeping upstairs.

Fletcher was neither fully awake nor asleep, and she wasn’t even sure if she had been either for quite some time, but when Kylie pushed open the door to her room, every one of her senses sharpened, and she tried to sit up much too quickly. The pain in her side wasn’t explosive, but it was enough to make her suck a breath through clenched teeth.

“Wait,” Kylie commanded, but there was no bite to her voice. She walked around the bed, carefully balancing a lap tray loaded down with food and a drink and pills.

“I don’t want those,” Fletcher said.

“None of it?”

“The pills.”

“Then let’s start with the rest, shall we?” Kylie set the tray on the bedside table and slipped a hand under her head. “Up you go.”

As she edged into a seated position using as little of her abs as humanly possible, Kylie stuffed a couple of pillows behind her back. “How’s that feel?”

“Fine,” she said out of habit, then took a moment to actually inventory her pain levels. “Not as bad as you’d think. If I’m not using those muscles, it’s kind of a dull soreness.”

“You know, if you take those pills, it’ll be even less.”

“The pills make me hazy, and I lose track of things.”

“What do you need to keep track of?”

She couldn’t come up with any serious answer, but rather than admit as much, she glanced at the tray. “Did you make soup?”

“Don’t get too excited. I found it in the freezer. Looks like vegetable, but I can’t vouch for its taste or freshness.”

“Turkey vegetable.” She perked up. “Gram brought it over after Thanksgiving.”

“That’s not too old for frozen soup.” She shrugged. “I mean, I have no idea how long soups last in a freezer. I don’t cook, and I don’t have a deep freeze. You tell me.”

“A few months is fine. Lay it on me.”