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Emmett: Can we meet up tomorrow?
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed, but I quickly remind myself that Emmett owes me nothing. Not wanting to be alone with my thoughts, I do something I never thought I’d be able to do. I text my girlfriends for advice.
Me: Emmett’s being weird.
Me: Or maybe he’s not and I’m being weird.
Madison: Weird how?
Me: He didn’t stay here last night like he normally does.
Me: And when I asked him to come by the barn tonight so we could talk, he kinda blew me off.
Taylor: I KNEW you guys we’re sleeping together!
Taylor: Get it girl!
Me: Okay. I think your “sleeping together” means you think we’re having sex. Which we’re NOT.
Me: We just sleep. In the same bed.
Madison: Wait… Emmett Colter has been sleeping in the same bed as you this whole time and hasn’t tried to take your panties off?
I roll my eyes at no one.
Taylor: Okay, THAT is weird. Maybe the chemo rewired his brain?
Madison: TAYLOR! That’s awful.
Taylor and Madison fight like sisters sometimes. They’ve been more than accepting and supportive of me, but that doesn’t stop me from occasionally feeling tiny pangs of jealousy of how close they are to each other.
Me: Am I overthinking this?
Me: I think I’m just lonely and overthinking this.
Madison: We’re on our way.
Taylor: Stopping for onion rings and ice cream!
My heart swells and the anxiety I’d been feeling all day is instantly starting to dissipate.
Taylor, Madison, and I have been sitting in what’s essentially the barn’s living room for the past hour. The onion rings and ice cream are long gone.
“We need to do this more often,” Madison says as she sprawls out in one of the oversized chairs.
I nod in agreement, but Taylor keeps quiet. I swear I hear her sigh, though. Madison narrows her eyes at Taylor, but changes the subject rather than pressing Taylor.
“I heard from my mom,” she says.
Madison filled me in over the past few weeks about her strained relationship with her mother. It’s become something we’ve bonded over, having no contact with our parents. I’m surprised to hear her mom reached out to her. I straighten up on the couch, giving her my full attention.
“Yeah, she uh–she called out of the blue. I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered. Turns out she left the piece of shit boyfriend and recently finished an eight-week rehab program,” Madison says.
“Madison, that’s great,” Taylor says.
“It is, isn’t it? Great?” I add, when Madison’s face says otherwise.
She lets out an exaggerated sigh.
