Bailey’s not wrong. We’ve all agreed Billie was made for the spotlight. She has country music in her heart, talent running through her veins and deserves to be at the center of it all. “This would be the perfect opportunity. Picture it. You, singing alongside Theo Bishop. Think of the exposure. A stepping stone, perhaps, even if you're aiming for a different mountain.”
A scoff escapes her lips. “Not that I want to make singing a career, but I wouldn't need Theo Bishop’s help if I did.” A blush creeping along her cheeks betrays her act of nonchalance, but we don’t push it any further.
It’s quiet for a moment until Bailey speaks, turning her mischievous gaze on me. “So, let’s try this again now that we’ve lightened the mood. How’s living with Jase going?”
I freeze for half a second with my champagne flute against my lips. I swallow the lump in my throat brought forth by the mention of his name again, but keep my voice light, pretending I’m not at all affected. “I caught him painting. Jase King, covered in paint with splotchy patches all over the walls.”
“Girl,” Billie says, fanning herself. “He’s nesting.”
“He is,” Raven agrees. “You’ve already moved in. Then comes putting the nursery and all the baby’s things together. Next thing you know, there will be joint grocery runs and?—”
I stop her before she gets ahead of herself. “Not at all what’s going to happen. He has his space. I have mine. This won’t turn into anything like that. I can’t let it become anything more than two people raising a child together.”
“Would it be so bad if you did?” This comes from Bailey, and I can’t help but be surprised.
They are all partly right. The two of us being part of something more, it’s inevitable, but I don’t think I’m ready to accept that. Jase is everywhere. He’s in my space, apparently in my daydreams. Even when he’s not in the room, I feel him sneaking into every one of my thoughts.
“Are you scared?” I don’t answer Bailey’s question right away, because I don’t know what I feel.
“It’s just a lot. I’m bringing a baby into the world, and some days I feel like I’m standing on the edge of something I don’t know how to survive.”
Raven leans in closer, understanding in her eyes. She’s nearly seven years younger than us, and her maturity is on another level for a young woman her age, who should be out partying and enjoying life instead of staying in with the lot of us. “Then we stand with you.”
Billie nods. “Every messy, beautiful, terrifying step of the way.”
“And when you need a break from the scary,” Bailey says, “we’ll be here with burnt pizza rolls, fried cheese, gossip and country music. The angry, scorned women kind.”
This is my village, my safe space, my sanity. Proof that I don’t have to carry it all alone. Looking around at my friends—loud, bold and all in their own way flawed like me—I don’t feel broken or judged. I feel loved. It’s an odd and unfamiliar feeling, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Tears prick my eyes, but I don’t want to cry, even if they are happy tears
“Anyway,” I say, changing the subject with a clear throat. “Rae, before I forget again. Last week, you said you wanted to ask me something?”
A warm blush creeps up her neck as she adjusts her position on the couch and takes another sip of wine, her third glass of the night. I’m not at all judging her, but she seems uneasy about my question.
“Well, actually, my aunt Helen might be moving away. No, I mean she is moving out of Crossroads and selling her condo. I can’t really afford it with a bartender’s salary, and I was kind of thinking maybe, hoping actually, you had a spare room at theranch I could rent out. I’d pay, obviously, but Billie mentioned that maybe now that it was remodeled there was a little barn house I could use?” Her statement is more of a question.
“Yes, of course. I mean, I’d have to check in with Monty, but I’m sure he’d have no issue with it.”
“That’s the thing,” she says. “I don’t think your brother likes me very much.” Her voice is small, hesitant, with a slight tremor betraying her worry.
“Oh, nonsense. Monty loves everybody. He is just a big old grump who doesn’t show it.” I nudge her shoulder, a reassuring gesture that feels flimsy even to me. Monty is selective about who he interacts with, and it may just be because, at twenty-one, Raven is nearly fifteen years younger than him.
“That’s what I told her,” Billie says.
Raven shrugs her shoulders, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. She looks so much younger today. Her face is free of makeup and bright green eyes full of wonder, but behind them lies a deeper sorrow I understand all too well.
“I just…he kind of always looks at me weird. Like with this deep scowl that looks like he's planning how to murder me. I swear I heard him huff and growl at me the last time I served him at Stingers.”
“That’s probably because he was pissed off at himself for wanting to fuck your brains out.”
“That’s also what I told her,” Billie laughs, agreeing with Bailey.
“Oh God, no,” Raven exclaims, the slight pink tint now a bright scarlet.
“Relax,” I tell her. “The girls are just messing with you. The last thing we need is another of my brothers dating another of my friends. We’re already too twisted for that.”
Just as I am about to ask Raven when she needs to find a place to stay, my phone vibrates on the coffee table, an incomingtext message lighting up the screen. Jase’s name stares back at me, though before I can reach for it, Billie does, holding up to my face to unlock it before she opens the message.
