AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“But I’ve never—” oh.
That bastard.
Last year I lost a bet over a Lakers game. I had to sign a few papers without reading them. He assured me I had nothing to lose financially—and I trusted him against my better judgment—so I’d signed. Danny was there, and Curtis. He had them witness. Dammit.
Celia rubs her eyes. “He has a lot to explain tomorrow.”
“In that case”—Timothy’s quiet voice makes us both jump—“be quiet so I can sleep.”
We both turn to the hospital bed. Timothy’s smiling that drugged-out smile at us.
Celia bustles over, hugging him gently while he mutters a slew of sleepy complaints and calls her a nag.
I hit my limit.
Timothy’s not alone. He doesn’t need me, so I grab my broken phone and leave, edging past the softly spoken, Mr. Rodgers-esque man who must be Timothy’s father talking to the nurse outside.
I’m nearly out of the hospital when Danny walks in, his expression torn up. He spots me immediately and I’m swept into another hug, this one bone-crushing. It’s Timothy’s arms I need, though. God, if I’d lost him…
“I’m so sorry,” Danny says, squeezing me tighter. “How is he?”
I catch Danny up. The whole time he stares at the elevators, his eyes brimming. I’ve known Danny for close to a decade. We box at the same gym, and I was close to his ex-wife before she moved away.
Danny and Timothy have been friends just as long, though it was years before Timothy and I met. I was with Matthew McCheating-Asshole, so Danny, Linnea, and I didn’t hang out that much outside of the gym and Timothy’s more of a martial arts guy than a boxer. Our paths never crossed.
When I caught my asshole boyfriend cheating, I had nowhere to go and a strong desire to hit something, so I went to the gym. When several rounds with a punching bag failed to make me feel better, Linnea suggested I stay with them and tag along to a party at some producer’s house in the hills. Alcohol, she insisted, solves all problems.
Why not?
We were barely there for five minutes when Timothy landed at my feet, took one look at my puffy but stunned eyes, and claimed my friendship.
I knew him by reputation—word had gotten around set of some of his exploits and only three-quarters of the gossip was about his sex life, plus Danny and Linnea spoke warmly of him. They waved me off with a “go, forget Dickweasel, and have some fun.”
Timothy wasn’t afterthatkind of fun, thank god. He found us a quiet spot and a bottle of vodka and pried the hurt out of me piece by piece, easing the grip it held on my heart with the best bear hug. When my tears dried, he took me on a wild night out that ended in the best brunch overlooking the Pacific. And when I friend-zoned him, he accepted it.
“Visiting hours are long over,” I say to Danny when I’m done.
He winks. “I know a nurse who can get me in. Let me give you a ride home, first. I’ve got an extra helmet.”
“No.” I can’t even hide the shudder at the thought of getting on a motorcycle, let alone with someone like Danny who probably drives too fast and weaves in and out of traffic, and possibly wouldn’t hesitate to jump a curb. “I’ll get an Uber. Thanks anyway.”
Danny gives me another hug and we go our separate ways.
The hospital’s not too far from my place. I drink the whiskey in the back seat, watching the city lights go by.
A text comes through from Celia.
Celia: Get some rest. See you tomorrow?
The thought of seeing Timothy twists my stomach, but the thought of not seeing him twists it harder.
Mina: I’ll come by after work.
Celia: Timothy’s lucky to have you.
I cap the flask and tuck it into my pocket, queasy as hell. Timothy’s lucky to still be alive.
My apartment is small and dark, reeking of stale sage smoke thanks to my yoga instructor roommate. I stumble into the kitchen, tossing my bag onto the counter, when three Post-it notes catch my eye. Chantal’s preferred method of communication. Hearts dot her i’s.
