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Alec
After the contractor leaves, I go next door and knock, having no clue about what kind of reception I’ll get.
But no one answers.
She was clearly upset with me last night, and she has the right to be. I didn’t argue with her, because I know how she is when her mind is made up. So I just let her go. I was hoping that if she had enough time to process, she’d understand.
I wonder where she went. Some day off. I was planning on getting stuff done, with her. And now all I’m doing is thinking about her and what I could’ve done differently.
On the way back to my place, I think about giving her flowers. But Stassi isn’t the type to be won over by gestures like that. Flowers are milestones or apologizing when one’s in the doghouse … and I don’t know what we are, now. I had her best interests at heart. I hope she’ll see that, eventually.
Stassi left the nursery half-painted, a sunny pale creamsicle orange. I spend the rest of the day finishing up. As I’m washing the brushes, my phone buzzes with a text.
I practically run to pick it up, hoping it’s Stassi. But it’s not:
Dr. Burns: Think you can cover tonight for an overnight?
I sigh. Why the hell not? At the very least, it’ll take my mind off Stassi for a bit. I text a yes and hit the shower.
As I’m shaving, the steam from my shower still settling around me, I get another text. This one has to be Stassi. She’s had enough time, and now she wants to talk.
But as I wipe off the steam from the display, I see Aidan’s name.
Aidan: Can you and I meet?
Though it’s not Stassi, this is something I’ve been waiting for. I knew that once the boys had time to let the idea simmer, they’d want to talk to me. As much as I know it’s going to hurt, I have to do it. I’ve been brooding over our last conversation, thinking of what I should’ve said, ever since it ended.
Alec: Sure. Houlihan’s. 7 pm?
I figure it’s neutral ground. He probably won’t murder me there. And if he does beat me within an inch of my life for touching Stassi, I’ll be on my way to the hospital, anyway.
I get to the bar at a little before 7 and order a soda since my shift is coming up.
As soon as the waitress leaves my booth, the door opens, and my two former best friends walk in.
I should’ve known it would’ve been a package deal. Aidan never goes anywhere without Cooper and vice versa.
They walk toward me, mouths in rigid lines, hands tucked in the pockets of their jeans. The two of them, together, are intimidating, to say the least. No wonder our opponents on the ice used to cower in fear. As their closest friend, I’d never had that problem … until now.
They don’t bother to sit across from me. Instead, they stand, towering over me.
“We’ve talked,” Aidan says gruffly, punching his fist into his other hand. “And now we want to get something straight with you.”
I get it. They want to scare the shit out of me, and it’s working. I know they’re coming from a good place. I just have to keep reminding myself of that. “Okay.” My voice only wavers a little.
“She told us what Jonathan did,” Aidan says quietly. “And that he was an asshole to her. That he had us all fooled.”
I nod.
“But him being an asshole doesn’t make you any less of one,” Cooper says.
I nod. That’s true, too.
“So you know … she’s been through hell and back. She doesn’t need any more of that shit,” Aidan says. “I swear, I don’t even want another hair on her head harmed. You understand?”
“If you ever leave her. If you ever hurt her … even the littlest bit … you’re dead meat. Lobster bait. Got it?” Cooper says. He’s usually the one making stupid jokes, but this time, he doesn’t even smile.
I nod resolutely and hold up my hand in oath. “I swear. I will never hurt her.”
They don’t break their gaze from me. Aidan says, “I guess only time will tell.”
“I guess it will,” I tell them.
But I’m not worried in the least. Because now I know one thing for sure.
I’d rather die than see Stassi hurt again.
37
Stassi
“Yes, just keep going. Right down there.”
The Uber driver gives me a confused look in the rearview mirror as he cautiously navigates the overgrown weeds and brush surrounding the gravel road. “Are you sure?”
The cemetery’s sign, about a quarter-mile back, had been so swallowed by the branches of a hydrangea bush that I’m sure he thinks I’m leading him straight off a cliff to the ocean. “Yep, a little farther.”
Finally, the first headstones come into view. Most are covered in wildflowers and moss, and the air above them is full of bees and butterflies and other insects having a field day. “Okay, this is great,” I tell him, scooting to the end of the seat and reaching for the door. “Can you just hang for five minutes? I promise I won’t take long.”
