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“Not a damn thing.” I shake my head. “I thought she was being a good friend, and she was—just not to me. She was just doing her damn job.”
The news is obviously surprising to Mom, but the last part doesn’t have her convinced. “Now, hold on. I don’t know about all that.”
“Why not?”
“Because Maliisa good friend. I’ve seen her around you. That kind of support can’t be faked,” she argues. “She might have started out doing it for Laiken, but it definitely didn’t stay that way. She cares about you.”
She does. Fuck, I know she does. But that doesn’t mean any of this is right. I mean, she spent this whole time lying to me. Watching me fall apart, only to put myself back together and fall apart again.
How would she feel if I did this to her? If Cam was the one who vanished, and I not only didn’t tell her and Laiken where he was, but acted like I had no idea. Acted like he left me, too. I thought she was a mess for the same reason I was, but she was only upset because she wanted her home. Not because she genuinely didn’t know if she was dead or alive.
“What’s going on with you and Laiken, anyways?” she questions, and I know she’s beenitchingto ask me that.
I purse my lips, acting obtuse. “Nothing.”
An amused glint appears in her eyes. “You know, there was another time when you told me there wasnothinggoing on between you two. I believe it was when I found her coming out of your room early one morning. Is it that kind of nothing?”
Okay, I’ll accept that she’s here to listen to my problems and try to help me through them, but I draw the fucking line at talking to her about my sex life.
“Mom,” I groan.
She chuckles. “What? When are you going to learn that I can see right through you?”
My head drops as I let myself think about Laiken, and how infuriated I was when I listened to Finn shoot his shot with her. I knew she would never say yes. Coming on that strong isnotthe way to go about it when it comes to her. But still, listening to someone try to flirt with her like that, I wanted to throw his ass out.
And IlikeFinn—for the most part, anyway.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I really don’t.”
She takes a deep breath. “You don’t get over someone you loved that strongly, H.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
The only thing Iamsure of is that I’m not over her. Not even a little. I still find myself looking for her in a crowded room, or gravitating toward where she is. And when she’s not there, I feel off. Like something just isn’t right. But when I let myself get close to her, I can’t breathe. The panic sets in, and I convince myself that she’s going to do exactly what she did before. I’ll have her in my arms, let her back in, and then she’ll be gone again.
And that’s when I push her away.
“I feel like I should be though,” I say. “Over her, I mean. I feel like Ineedto be.”
I can see it in her face; she hates watching me struggle like this. But she’s only ever wanted what’s best for me, and I have a feeling she still believes Laiken is a part of that.
“I think it all comes down to whether or not you’ll be able to trust her again,” she tells me. “If you can’t, then trying again won’t go well. But if you think you can, if it’s at all possible, I don’t think you should let a love like that go. It’s too special.”
I lean back and rest my head on the back of the chair, exhaling heavily. She’s right. That’s the first thing I need to focus on. But with everything that happened today, I know that’s not something I can think about right now.
Not when I’m questioning if I can trust anyone at all.
I’M STARTING TO BELIEVEthat sleep is a foreign concept to me now, and caffeine is a way of life. To think there used to be a time when I would sleep until noon if I had nothing else to do. Lately, I’m lucky if I can doze off for a few hours before I have to wake up and do it all over again.
I lean over the counter, watching the coffee slowly drip into the pot like I’m not relying on it to survive right now. Fucking gross bean juice. They couldn’t have made this shit taste better? And what’s taking so damn long? It needs to work on tasting extra gross? The fuck.
When it finally beeps, I pour a cup, adding an obnoxious amount of sugar because let’s face it—it’s necessary. To anyone who drinks their coffee black, I salute you. That shit takes a special level of self-loathing.
As the caffeine courses through me, my headache starts to subside. I still have an hour or so until I have to be at the bar, but staying in this house has proven more difficult than I remember. Though, that could have to do with her being back and yet, not here.
A car door shuts outside, and it sounds like it’s coming from my driveway, but before I can look out the window, there’s a light knock at the front door. I open it to find Mali standing there, looking up at me pleadingly.
“Can we talk?” she asks.
