Page 22 of Five

“What?” She’s got a look of mania in her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of my father? You’ve never been—”

“No,” I say. Although that’s not entirely true. Anyone who isn’t afraid of Spencer is just a dumbass. “It’s just… I want to do this right, Ror. I can stay the weekend. But…”

Her face crumples. “You’re leaving me again?”

I want to say no. Never. But I am. Because I have to. That meeting in Denver, the code in my pocket, the business on the other side of the world. It’s all interfering in her grand plans to find the happily ever after. And she deserves to know that before I finish eating her up for dessert.

I want to offer up some kind of condolence. Tell her I’m doing this for us. That I love her, and only her, and will never love anyone else for as long as I live. But she doesn’t give me a chance. She turns on her heel, walks into the hall bathroom, and less than two minutes later comes out dressed, clutching her purse, and snatches her phone off the chair as she passes me.

“Call me when you’re serious about us, Five. Because I’m sick of your boyish games.”

The door slams behind her.

The silence in her wake is deafening.

Chapter Seven - Rory

The Flynn house is a large, rambling mid-century modern situated on a half-acre piece of property close to City Park, which means it’s only a couple blocks away from Five and Kate’s house. You can walk everywhere from here. Well, if it’s downtown, that is.

There are no lights on when I get there and park on the street out front. Not even a porch light. But I know this place almost as well as I know my own family home, so I slip out of my car and walk around back to the massive screened-in porch.

Kate is here. She wanted Five and me to have privacy at her parents’ place. She’s probably sleeping on the couch, since my sister is in Starling’s room and Oliver, no doubt, took over the guest room.

But it doesn’t matter to me that there’s no beds.

Sparrow, Kate, and I grew up together. Typically, when three girls are best friends someone gets left out. But that’s not how this friendship works with us. And it’s funny now that I think about it, because my mom, Sparrow’s mom, and Kate’s mom were all BFFs when they were young too. And they never had problems like that either.

Kate is the oldest at twenty-three, Sparrow is the youngest at twenty, and I’m in the middle at twenty-one. It was kind of a big gap when we were all really young. But the Shrike Ranch tied us together. They kept their ponies and horses out there, took riding lessons out there, and we would spend every minute doing that horse-crazy girl stuff until we were well into our teens. In fact, I think it only died down my last year in high school. Kate had already taken off for college and Sparrow was dating a guy that year. So we drifted a little.

But whenever I had a problem I always knew I could count on them and sneaking into Sparrow’s house via the back porch was how I did it.

When I open the squeaky door and step in—it feels like coming home all over again.

They have a glider that takes up a whole wall, it’s so long. Some old thing that looks like it was brand new about the same time this house was built. And I can’t even count the number of times I slept on this thing when I stayed overnight in the summers.

When we were small, all three of us would sleep out here—Sparrow and I on opposite ends of the glider, feet and legs and knees wiggling against each other, and Kate, who was the tallest, on the hammock strung up in one corner.

We have a river running through the back of our farm. It’s dangerous, and loud, and rages with white water foam in the spring time when the snow melts.

But the Flynns have some second-cousin-twice-removed creek as their backdrop. It’s gentle and bubbling. The kind of sound people pay good money to listen to as white noise.

It’s that sound I concentrate on now. I slip out of my shoes and shorts, grab the quilt that always seems to be ready for me, and lie down. My head hits a faded outdoor pillow that matches the glider, and I sigh.

Fucking Five.

Why can’t he just see things my way? We’re grown-ups now. That stupid kid stuff is over. And I’m ready to start something new.

I don’t want to be his princess. I want to be his queen.

Obviously, he’s not reading from the same script.

I sigh, tired enough to let it go for now and find solace looking for sleep. I mean, after all, this is just how it is. How it’s always been. I’m pretty used to the disappointment I feel about Five by now.

I let the bubbling brook soothe me. I forget about where I was this morning. Forget about how I got to this moment right now. And I drift into dreams I wish I could live in…

“Princess.”

I’ve been waiting for him. I saw him when Sparrow, Kate, and I were at the FoCo Theatre getting milkshakes before the movie. And he saw me, too. He knew where I’d be tonight.