“I’m proud of both of us,” I whisper. We look at each other for a second before we each lean in for a hug. “We spent all those years as little girls dreaming and talking about what we wantedto be when we grew up. We never thought about the fact it could mean us moving away from each other.”
We hold each other for a few more seconds, and I pull back just in time before the tears start to flow.
“Okay. One last pass through the closet, then we order dinner.”
“And open the emergency bottle of cabernet,” she declares.
“Now you’re speaking my love language.” I stand, shake out my hands, and tell myself the ache in my ribs is just the peppermint candle hitting too hard.
“How are you going to live without Sal’s Gyros in Denver? Oh yes! He gave us extra feta!” Maddie announces, while I open the emergency cab and pour it into mismatched stemless glasses we never returned to our friend Claire after her Friendsgiving.
“To new chapters,” Maddie says, raising her glass.
Two sips in and my shoulders already start to loosen. We shovel fries into our mouths like raccoons, music still low in the background. The apartment has that hollow sound now, the echo you get when walls are bare.
“So,” Maddie says, mouth full, “logistics. When we roll into Denver, Cole is meeting us at your building. He’ll park the truck in the loading zone and bully the concierge into giving us a cart.”
I blink. “Are you sure it’s okay? And he’s… free that day? I hate asking him to help. I know moving is the worst. Should I pay him?”
Maddie snorts. “No, he’d refuse anyway. He’ll say something like ‘just pay me in pizza,’ and then he won’t even take the pizza. He’s annoying like that.”
“I can’t believe he’s the one coming to help. I mean, I can, but also…” My words stall because the last version of Cole I have saved is high school bad boy. The only guy in school to have a real tattoo, the smirk that made girls trip over their biologybinders, a whisper of a scar on his cheekbone that no one could confirm the origin of.
Maddie swallows and grins. “You’re thinking of the chaos years.”
“Maybe.” I play it casual, dunking a fry in tzatziki. “Didn’t he get kicked out of school?”
“No, just suspended. Senior year he was suspended for a week after his arrest.”
I almost choke. “Arrest? How do I not remember that?”
“Relax, it was just juvenile, sealed, blah, blah. He was seventeen and a hot mess. He and those idiots he hung out with thought it was a good idea to race down Lakeshore at midnight. He’d just gotten his motorcycle, you remember the black one? Tattoo, too. Our mom cried. Dad yelled. He spent a weekend in juvie and came out with a shaved head and an even worse attitude, if that’s possible.”
I nod, an image of him starting to resurface. Cole showing up with a buzz cut and a black eye. At the time, I hadn’t realized it was because he was in juvenile detention; I probably didn’t even know what that was. “God, I still can’t believe he had a tattoo in high school. I remember everyone thinking he was such a badass for it.” I laugh.
“I can still hear my mother sobbing when she saw them for the first time. He started with the compass on his forearm after that whole mess—‘point me somewhere better’ or whatever. Then a few more. He hid them from my parents for, like, a year. Hoodie season was his favorite.”
I lick tzatziki from my thumb, heart doing stupid little hops. “All the girls had a crush on him. You know that, right?”
Maddie laughs, tipping her head back. “Hailey Simpson,youhad a crush on him.”
Heat nips my cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She smirks affectionately. “Every girl did. Even Mrs. Gallagher from algebra got weird when he asked to borrow a calculator.”
I roll my eyes so hard they nearly exit my skull. “Fine. He was… visually educational and instrumental in my sexual awakening.”
“Gross.” She cackles. “Anyway, after the suspension, things got worse for a minute—skipping class, fights with Mom and Dad. Then he got popped for something dumb. He was trespassing at the old steel yard—and the judge basically told him to get his life together or enjoy state-issued décor.”
I go quiet, the fries cooling in my hand. “I remember hearing he left.”
“He did. The day after he turned nineteen, he tossed whatever fit in a duffel and drove west. Colorado was supposed to be temporary. He went out there for this job on a framing crew with our uncle’s friend. But it stuck. He got stubborn in a productive way. Learned the trade. Got certified. Saved every dime. He’s been there since.”
I let that settle. The bad boy postcard I kept in my head starts to fade, replaced with something steadier I’m having a hard time even picturing.
Maddie wipes her fingers and takes another sip of wine. “He’s not the guy people gossiped about anymore. He hasn’t been for a long time.”
“Do you miss him?” I ask softly.
