AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hey. She’s where your focus should be.”
I jammed my hands into my pockets. “Yeah. I’ll go check on her.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen making some calls.”
I went back into the living room, but she was gone. I headed for the hallway to the bedrooms. I found her in what had to be her room. We’d been friends for a damn long time, but her private sanctuary had been too much for me to invade.
We were more of the movie and game nights kind of deal when I did hang at her place. I could only take so much, and knowing where she slept would have killed me. That would have led to questions like does she sleep naked? Is she a cotton or lace girl?
Losing sleep over Teagan had been my favorite pastime. I hadn’t needed help with ideas about her in bed. Besides, it paled in comparison to the reality of her in my bed, anyway.
The space was pretty much what I expected. A girly bed covered in pillows soaked through from the fire hoses. In the center of the room were two plastic tubs full of notebooks, clothes, and other girl items of unknown origin.
The room was surprisingly untouched from a fire standpoint, but there was no denying the smoke damage. The awful smell still lingered in the air, along with an ashy wetness that coated the back of my throat.
“Teagan?”
A thump in the closet made me move all the way into the room.
“Here.” A shirt sailed through the air and landed in the bin. Another lacy bit o
f a thing hit me in the face.
I picked it up. “I didn’t take you for a red lace girl.”
She sniffed and wouldn’t look at me. “Yeah, well, I’m saving what I can. That was in a zipped plastic bag so it doesn’t smell like my Aunt Cathy’s house in January.” A small mountain of shoes poured out of her closet, and she kicked at one of them. “Dammit.”
I didn’t know Aunt Cathy, but I’d just bet she was a two-pack-a-day kind of lady.
“Hey.” I tossed the bit of lingerie into the bin. “Lila’s people are going to take care of most of this.”
She picked up a boot and slammed it into the closet. “It’s not their job. It’s my stuff.” She swiped at her cheek. Tears tracked through the soot on her face, and her eyes were bright red.
“Oh, babe.” I went to her, and she pointed at me.
“No. Don’t. If you hug me, I’m just going to burst into tears and probably never stop.” She picked up a jacket and wiped her cheek with the back of her other hand, making even more of a mess. “It’s just stuff.”
“It’s not just stuff. It’s your stuff.” I went to her and pulled the jacket out of her hand and tossed it on the tote. “And you’re upset. I don’t care if you cry. I have a sister and a mom. I’m good with tears.”
Lies. I hated tears. They made me feel helpless, but if that was what she needed, I’d hold her and let her have a good cry.
Even if it gutted me.
“I don’t want to cry.” As they streamed, anyway.
I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her already shaking shoulders.
“Everything smells like hellfire.” Her voice was a miserable whisper.
I rested my cheek on top of her head. “Such a poet.”
She looped her arms around my waist and pinched me. “Shut up. I don’t want to laugh.”
“Let me get this straight. You don’t want to cry, and you don’t want to laugh?”
“No.” Her voice was muffled, but I could hear her smile.
“At least the fire wasn’t in here.”
