Just another thing for me to feel bad about.
Not only did the club lose income because of me, but the bar also employed people who didn’t work for the club, and they are now back to the unemployment line.
My fault.
It’s all my fault.
If I hadn’t thrown a fit that Calloway was pulling away, I wouldn’t have convinced Maggie to drive with me from California back to Colorado on a whim. We never would have stopped at that shithole of a bar, and I never would have been taken. The Ragged Anarchy never would have known we existed.
“Hey, are you okay?” Maggie asks softly.
“Why are you even friends with me?” I blurt out.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, Maggie’s head jerks back like I’ve slapped her. I wish I could take them back, but I don’t. I’ve always wanted to know.
I’ll be the first to admit that Maggie is too good for me. I’ve never been the type of friend she deserves, yet she’s stuck by me through it all.
“Because I love you. What’s going on?” she asks, her voice full of concern.
“Nothing. Did you find something to wear?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Fuck no, you don’t get to pretend like you didn’t ask something completely asinine and change the subject,” Rain says, crossing her arms.
“Talk to us. We’re here,” Maggie pleads.
“I’m fine.”
Rain scoffs. “Girl, you are so far from fine it’s not even funny. Now spit it out. What’s going through that fucked-up mind of yours?”
“Rain, you can’t say that,” Maggie hisses as she slaps Rain’s arm.
“I can and did. Now come on, talk to us, Aspen,” Rain says.
I wish I could spill my guts to them, but I can’t. They don’t need to hear the fucked-up shit that goes through my mind. They don’t need to know the details of what I went through. If they did, they would look at me differently.
They already do.
The worst part about coming back is the way they all treat me with kid gloves. It’s like everyone is waiting for me to break.
Except Asher.
He’s the only one who treats me like I’m still normal.
“Look, I really am fine. This is just a little weird. Being so out in the open,” I tell them.
Maggie bites the corner of her lip. “You love shopping.”
I used to, before I had to constantly worry about my safety and who was lurking in the shadows.
“I still do,” I lie.
Rain’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t call me out on it.
“But you haven’t grabbed anything to try on,” Maggie points out.
“I haven’t found anything that interests me yet.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I’ve seen at least six outfits you should have over your arm to try on. This is your favorite store,” Maggie says.
