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Fi and I settle in for the afternoon in Trey’s bedroom, bingeing Netflix and junk food.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” I ask as we sit nestled together, my laptop perched on my knees. I’m not going to lie, we’re engulfed in Trey’s scent right now, and I have to keep myself from sniffing his pillow like a creep.
“No, I’m good now. You can’t force addicts to change and all that—and my mom is a stubborn bitch.”
“You offered her as much support and help as you could. You’re a good daughter. I hope she realizes that someday.”
“Someday…,” Fi murmurs wistfully.
“Our happy-ever-after is someday away, right?” I swallow. “That’s what I used to tell myself when I was living alone after my mom died. I was so close to rock bottom, but I knew someday everything would be okay. It’s really what kept me going back then.”
“Someday away. I like that.” She leans into my shoulder, her floral scent filling my nostrils as tendrils of her hair tickle my cheek.
I’m still hesitant to tell her about what happened with Matt, but it’s like she has a sixth sense about everything.
“So,” she starts, sitting up and turning to me, “tell me what happened with you this weekend? Something’s on your mind. Spill.”
I give her a sideways look, but ultimately, I tell her everything about Sunday night—even how Link and I made up.
“Shit,” she says, her eyes welling with unshed tears.
“Yeah.”
“I could kill that bastard myself,” Fi says fiercely, and I can’t help the laugh bubbling up my throat.
“Get in line. Between you, Trey, Link, and Seb, I think I’m well protected. Matt practically has a bounty on his head at this point, so hopefully he just stays away.”
“What about hockey, though? I think the school will notice when he just doesn’t show up for the next practice or game.”
I shrug. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
We decide to start up our show marathon again, and we only stop when Link orders Chinese food. Trey grabs a round of beers, and we all sit around the living room enjoying dinner.
I glance at the three of them digging into the little white cardboard boxes with their chopsticks, then I stand and walk to the kitchen, grabbing a fork discreetly from the drawer before sliding back onto the couch.
“Do you not know how to use chopsticks?” Fi asks with a smirk.
I freeze as Trey and Link’s heads snap up and all three of them stare at me while I shovel a huge forkful of sweet-and-sour chicken into my mouth.
“Uhhh, frmmmgmgm,” I say around the mouthful, turning what’s probably a bright shade of pink.
Trey snickers. “So ladylike.”
I glare at him and swallow my food. “I said, my mom didn’t know how either, so I just never learned.”
“Child abuse at its finest,” Trey says with a snort.
“Yeah, this needs to be rectified STAT.” Link grabs the extra set of chopsticks from the coffee table.
We spend the next hour laughing as Fi and the boys try to teach me to eat with chopsticks, finally resorting to rubber-banding them together.
For a while, we all forget our drama.
There’s no psychopath ex-boyfriend, no addict mother, no emotional baggage to manage. We’re just four friends hanging out.
And, damn, it feels good.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
