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“She’s not who she was before. It’s like… I don’t know. You know how before soldiers go away to war, they’re young and naïve and hopeful? Then they come home, but their eyes aren’t the same? Not just soldiers, but even you,” she pushes on before I can respond. “The youngest firefighter on Nix’s crew. So happy, carefree. You would play with June every single day. Bounce on the trampoline. Instigate a food fight that I’d pretend to be pissy about cleaning up. You’d even flirt with Hannah, since you’re both naturals at it. But then you got a few fires under your belt, and now you’re less smiley. Less… free with your happiness.”
“Nic—”
“Youreyes changed.”
She’s saying that my words to Hannah at Cootes’ funeral had the same effect as a soldier’s PTSD.
Fuckin’ awesome.
“But she’s better now, right?” I plead. “You said she’s dating…”
“She’s better. She talks. She flirts. She works herself to death seven days a week and tries to act like success is easy for her, when really, I know what it is to grind so hard that you worry if you stop, you’ll fall apart.
“She’s dating, Axel, and the guys who drop in here seem nice enough. But she’d rather watch trash TV with Raul and eat carbs.”
“Raul’s an asshole.” I can’t help myself. I can’t stop the bubbling jealousy that burns along my throat.
Iwas the one who told her to date. To experience an exotic romance. To find someone other than me to fill those gaps in her life. I even told her to datehim! But now that she’s exploring other men…
“He’s harmless,” I admit. “Not at all her type. But still an asshole.”
“The fact he’s not her type is probably why she hangs out with him so much. He’s safe. He doesn’t hit on her. Doesn’t ogle, and doesn’t nag her to step outside her comfort zone. But ya know what?” I hear a door open and close, then the soft, sweet melody of Hannah Sullivan’s frustrated growl. “I’m done discussing that. When are you coming home?”
“I’m here!” Hannah’s voice is rushed. Always moving. Always fast. “I wasn’t slacking, I promise. I was prepping things at home and finishing up a job. It’s all loaded in the car, so when the guys get here, the order’s ready to go out.”
“It’s fine.”
I see it all so clearly in my mind. The back of Nicole’s shop, all silver countertops, and floors scrubbed to within an inch of their life. I see both women wearing aprons, though in Hannah’s case, she’s likely pulling hers on now, while she’s on the move. Her hair tied back, and her long lashes, a natural cat flick to surround the almost almond shape of her eyes.
“We’re in no rush,” Nicole murmurs. “How was your date?”
It’s both gratifying and horrifying to know I’m still listening in. Gratifying, since my sister is clearly handing me a front-row seat to an inside conversation. But horrifying, because what if Hannah slept with the dude? Or kissed him? Or worse, actuallylikeshim?
I have all the power in my hands to simply slide my thumb across my screen and end this call. Reinstate privacy between the women, and save myself the pain of hearing something that has the potential to rip my guts out.
But do I kill the call?
No.
I walk my ass to a low wooden beam and sit down.
“Alan was a total gentleman.” Dishes clang and doors slam. Hannah is working already. On the go and making even gossip time productive. “Held the door, kissed me on the cheek. He helped me into my seat, and thought it was cute when I ordered something other than salad and water.”
“So it went well?” It’s as though Nicole sets her phone down on the counter and gets back to work. Which is surely a violation of trust between friends, right? To have me listening in, and Hannah, none the wiser.
So why don’t I call her out on it? And why does she allow it, when typically, Nicole is the sweetest, kindest, most trustworthy friend a person could have?
“It went fine.” Hannah grunts, so the sound bounces right to the base of my stomach.
I haven’t laid eyes on the woman in seven months. I haven’t spoken to her. I haven’t even gone back to scour the photos on my phone just to get a glimpse of her face.
It’s been a complete and total Hannah Sullivan blackout.
But now I hear her. I see her in my mind. I imagine being in the same room while she works.
“He was nice,” she continues. “No red flags, though I was looking for them.”
“Of course you were,” Nicole grumbles. “So will you go out with him again?”
