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“You mad at me?”
“I am.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you tell me your dad was sick? I thought we were…Forget it. Anyway, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You thought we were what?”
“Friends,” she mumbled. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
I realized then that Stella had had a few. “Not stupid at all, darlin’. I’m more than just your friend.”
“Don’t lie to me, Cope.”
“Buck.”
“What?”
“You called me Cope. I’m Buck and I don’t lie, TJ.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You gonna tell me your real name?”
She laughed. “That is my real name, but I prefer Stella.”
“You know what I mean, darlin’. The name you were given when you were born.”
“Oh. That. Well, I swore I’d never tell a soul. You’re a soul, so…”
“I miss you.”
“You do?”
“Damn right, I do.”
“I miss you too,” she whispered as though, if she said it quietly enough, it wouldn’t count. “I’m sorry about your father,” she repeated.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “He was sick for a long time.”
“My mom was sick for a long time before she died too.” She paused, and I heard what sounded like ice in a glass.
“Whatcha drinkin’?”
“Bourbon.”
“Could use one of those myself.”
&nbs
p; “Go pour yourself one so I’m not drinking alone.”
I walked into the kitchen, reached up to the cupboard over the fridge, and pulled down the bottle of Jack I knew I’d find there. I sloshed some of the brown liquid into a glass, tucked the bottle under my arm, and went back down the hallway.
