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I notice the large envelope on the counter addressed to me. When I open it, a thick stack of postcards falls, held together with a paperclip. Familiarity and nostalgia sink in, one-by-one. They are in chronological order of vacations we took as a family. Somewhere in the middle of the pile is a glossy shot of my grandparents’ house. I choke down my cry, continuing through. The next few send a chill down my spine.
Vegas.
Virginia.
Africa.
New York.
Charleston.
Tasha’s recent locations. The last card is blank with a question mark. Such a typical move. Playing games to freak me out.
“Hey, sorry to leave you alone.” Ryanne saunters in, and I shove the cards back in the envelope.
“How’s Andrew?”
“He’s fine,” she answers indifferently.
“Fine? That’s all you’re giving me?”
“He’s fantastic, wonderful, attentive, interested in everything about my life, and can’t wait to see me next week. Is that better?”
“Much better.”
“You know how I’m supposed to drive to my parents’ on Monday and spend a few days?”
I nod.
“He wants me to invite them up for the holiday with everyone. He offered his place for them to stay… with me.”
“Oh, my, that’s cool!” There are a thousand things a best friend should ask, but I don’t.
“Now I need to call my mom and go through this.” Her conflict is clear, torn about leaving me alone again.
Perfect escape.
“Make your call.” I wave her off with a wink. “I’m going to cook and hope Evin will be here soon. Tell your parents I’d love to see them, and they’re welcome at our place, too.”
When her door closes, I review the postcards again, looking for anything unusual. There’s nothing descript. She’s playing her games and trying to get into my head. Anger boils inside. This is not what I want to deal with right now. “Your immature bullshit is the last thing on my mind,” I mumble to myself, dumping it back in the envelope, and deciding to tell Evin after we’ve worked through my stupidity.
The door flies open and Dante stumbles in, falling to the floor and looking haggard. “I had to quit. He broke me.”
“Dante,” I scream, for the first time wishing for my crutch to support my urgency. By the time I make it to him, he’s rolled over. He’s a sweaty, dirty, heaving mess.
“I tapped out at the third turn of the track. Evin’s a beast.”
“Are you okay?” I slide my leg out, keeping it straight while crouching and balancing on my good leg. Jesse and I worked on this last week, and it’s coming in handy.
“Pips, you need to prepare. He’s loaded with something even I can’t identify.”
My hand cups my poor best friend’s cheek and I smile. “I’ll handle it. Do you need help getting up?”
“No, I’m heading out before the shit hits the fan. He didn’t talk much, but he’s been sending a lot of texts. The adrenaline fueling his body is lethal. He’s doing those trails until he works it out of himself.”
“Maybe I should go to him.”
“You should let him do what he needs to do. I told him what happened after he left. He knows you’re waiting.”
He rises, helping me to my feet, noticing my missing crutches but not mentioning it.
“I’ll get you water.”
“This is not how I saw my night off going. Thought we’d be drunk by now.”
“How about coming by tomorrow? We need to talk about the studio plans.” He takes the water I offer, downing it in a few gulps.
“Sounds good. If things are settled around here, I’d like to take you to the new complex. They have a sick lighting and sound system that would be perfect in the front room.”
A ripple of excitement travels through me. “That would be great.”
“And, Pips, the timing sucks, but we have to talk the business side, the legalities, and the finances.”
“One thing at a time. If I bring up finances with Evin right now, he’s sure to blow.”
He nods. “Love you, girl. Stop trying to be Wonder Woman.”
“I’ll never stop striving for perfection, but my perspective is different now. Thanks for not glossing over my bitchiness.”
He winks, kisses me on the forehead, and leaves. I text Evin, encouraged that he’s been texting.
I love you and I’m sorry.
He never responds.
“Poppy, wake up.”
“Ryanne?”
“Yes, let me help you to bed.”
Panic sets in, my body bolting up. “Where’s Evin?”
My eyes are heavy, but they easily read the sadness in her face. “He’s in bed.”
“He came home and didn’t wake me? Did he eat? Is he okay? “
“Yes, he came home and it wasn’t pretty. He put the plate you made him in the refrigerator. My guess is no, he’s not okay.”
“Why didn’t he wake me?”
“I don’t know, but he watched you sleep for a full five minutes before he disappeared into your room.”
My legs swing over, and when I stand, I cry out at the pain. She’s at my side, supporting my weight as fiery sensations blaze up my right leg. There’s a loud banging from my room, Evin appearing immediately. He takes one look at the situation, grabs my crutches, and hands them to Ryanne, turning back without a word.
