“Is that so?” Scar finally replies, her tone a mixture of happiness and confusion. “You’re coming for a holiday?”
“No! Like for real,” Jovie goes on, and as I look in the mirror, seeing the bright smile on her face solidifies the choice I’m making. It’s a smile I haven’t seen for months, maybe years. “Mom said she’s sick of Nan’s shit?—”
“Jovie!”
“—and now we’re driving to your place. Is that okay?”
Scarlett scoffs loudly. “Is it okay? It’s the best fucking?—”
“Scar!” I scold with a grin.
“—best damn news I’ve heard all year!” The emotion in her voice almost gets me, tears building in my throat. “Is Mom crying?”
“She was,” Jovie answers, trying to lower her voice as she outs me. “Her eyes were all bloodshot, and she was all croaky like.”
She never misses a thing.
Even when I try to hide things from Jovie, she has a way of figuring it out. It’s not just her sharp eyes or her knack for reading me—it’s something deeper. Like she’s tuned into every crack in my armor, every shift in my voice, every sigh I try to swallow down before it escapes. Whether it’s problems with Nan, or money, or just general upset about the way my life is turning out, Jovie always sees through me.
She’s my partner in this chaotic life we’ve been handed.
And while it breaks my heart that she’s had to grow up faster than she should’ve, that she knows things about life and its struggles that most kids her age couldn’t fathom—at the same time, it gives me hope.
Because if I ever doubted that I could get us out of this mess, all I had to do was look at her. She’s proof that something good can come out of all the bad. And she makes me want more—for both of us.
“Can I talk to Mom for a minute, just to check she’s okay?” Scarlett questions softly, and Jovie reaches forward with the phone.
I take it, settling it on my lap as I focus on the road ahead. “Guess we’ll see you in a couple of days,” I tell her, my laugh crackling as I fight the wave of emotions hitting me.
“Hell yes!” I’m almost deafened by my best friend’s excited shriek when she answers. “Holy shit, Brynn!”
I shake my head. “I know. I’m still not sure what’s going on,” I tell her, my voice catching as I swallow hard.
My grip on the steering wheel tightens, my knuckles white against the cracked leather. It’s almost painful, but I refuse to let go. The wheel is my lifeline, the one thing keeping me grounded in that moment—knowing we’re in the car, heading toward the east coast, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that’s going to stop us from getting there.
Nothing.
“Just keep driving,” Scarlett insists, her voice lowering just a little into a more serious tone. “Don’t turn back, Brynn. There’s nothing back there for you.”
Scarlett had been my best friend since we were in middle school.
She’s the person who would lift me up when I was down.
The person who was ready and waiting to have my back every single time I said I was done—and the one who still supported me when we both knew I wasn’t.
“Are you sure it’s okay if we com?—”
“You cut that shit out right now,” she cuts in, and I just know she’s shaking her head—black hair whipping from side to side. “You know I’ve got my own place and a spare room. I’ll try to keep work stuff away from Jovie as much as possible.”
I can’t help but grin, shaking my head. “That’s the last of my worries.”
Scarlett is a stripper.
But not just a stripper.
She works for a Motorcycle Club in Atlantic City, and while that sounds scary for many people to have around their young kid, she’s only ever talked about how loyal and protective they are of their inner circle.
“Honestly, I can’t wait to have your snoring and the kids' smart mouth right here with me,” Scar teases, and I gasp loudly.
