Trisha and Angela's poison.
Their words designed to make me doubt, to make me run, to keep me small and scared and stuck.
Astrid listens without interrupting, her hand holding mine, her expression shifting from concern to understanding to rage she can barely contain.
When I finish, she takes a long drink of wine. "Those bitches."
Despite everything, I laugh. "Astrid?—"
"No. Those girls were never your friends, Ingrid. They were vultures circling, waiting for you to fail so they could feel better about their own shit lives."
"They said?—"
"I don't care what they said. They're wrong." She squeezes my hand. "You're not too damaged. You're not too much work. You're a woman who's been hurt and is still brave enough to try again. That's not weakness—that's strength."
Tears blur my vision. "What if they're right though? What if Gunnar realizes I'm not worth the effort?"
"Then he's an idiot. But he's not. That boy has been in love with you for years."
"How do you know?"
"Becauseeveryoneknows. The entire club has been watching you two dance around each other, waiting for you to finally figure it out."
"Mom said the same thing."
"Because it's true." Astrid tops off my wine. "Gunnar's good people, Ingrid. One of the best. And he sees you—reallysees you—which terrifies you because it means you can't hide anymore."
"I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"Be loved. Be with someone who actually wants me for more than just sex."
"Then you learn. Together." She smiles softly. "That's what relationships are—two people figuring it out as they go."
"But what if?—"
The front door opens.
Geirolf walks in, grease-stained shirt and tired eyes, clearly just back from the clubhouse.
"Hey, baby—" He stops when he sees me. "Ingrid. Didn't know you were here."
"Sorry. I should've texted you both."
"Don't be stupid. You're family. You're always welcome." He bends to kiss Astrid, then looks between us. "What's wrong?"
"Sister stuff," Astrid says. "But actually, you should probably stay. Might need the male perspective. Leif is taking a nap, so we’re good for at least another hour."
He raises an eyebrow but settles into the chair across from us. "All right. What's going on?"
"Ingrid and Gunnar," Astrid says simply.
Understanding floods Geirolf's face. "Finally."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" I demand.
"Because we've all been waiting." He leans back, crosses his arms. "Gunnar's been half in love with you since you were twenty. Anyone with eyes could see it."
