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I think of what Lake told me about his mom.
I think of Ashley and our tangled world—the hurts and betrayals and the way I still clung to something that wasn’t healthy.
I think of Ella and Knox andtheirvery complicated family.
“Yeah,” I agree softly. “It is.”
We’re quiet for a blip.
“And, for the record,” she says. “I’m glad that George is out of the picture. He’s an asshole.”
“I haven’t seen him since that, and I hope I don’t.”
“He’s probably on his way to Vegas to con some poor, innocent woman out of her time and energy and money.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Maybe.”
“And you wouldn’t see him, anyway.” A beat. “Considering you’re stowed away in Lake’s shag mansion.”
Those wrinkles deepen because…ew.
I mean, she’s not wrong.
But still…ew.
She giggles into my disgusted silence. “Too far?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, picking up my mug—now filled with hot cocoa because today, while Lake is at practice, I’m watching Hallmark movies to go alongside my cheesy action flicks.
And scrolling through my photographs.
And catching up with Ella.
Read: giving my friend the riot act.
Thencatching her up.
Now, though, the sun is setting outside and I’m snug in Lake’s fluffy blankies and hot cocoa is the best cozy, comfy, snuggly-in-fuzzy-blankets drink around.
“You went too far when you started in about hisbranch,” I tell her. “You went too far when you sent me on a collision course with a grumpy hockey player and an empty house. You wentinfinitelytoo far just now by referring to this beautiful house as a shag mansion.”
Even though wehavebeen fucking like jackrabbits.
Ella feigns seriousness, but I read right through her. My best friend doesn’t do serious. At all. “First,” she says. “Don’t yuck my yum. Second”—I can picture her ticking these off on her fingers—“I didn’t know the house was empty.”
I sigh. “Meanwhile, she doesn’t mention the grumpy hockey player,”
“Third,” she says over me. “Lake knows how to use thatbranch, if what you’ve told me is the truth”—because, yes, I spilled everything to my friend—“so really, you should be thankful.”
“Orthe snowbank.”
Ella huffs out a laugh. “Considering the orgasms he gave you, I would brave the snowbankandtake a little, or I guess,big”—she cackles—“grumpy.”
I narrow my eyes even though she can’t see me. “It wasn’t little.”
The grumpyorthe penis.
“Okay,” she says. “How about this? I would take a lot of grumpy from a man who looks like Lake Jordan. I mean, have youseenhis underwear ads?”
