Piper shakes her head softly. “Blair, please?—”
“That will never change. Ever.” My breath comes out in a shaky exhale as tears fill my eyes. “I couldn’t even be in the same room with Ryland for more than ten minutes. All I wanted to do was run from him, because if he ever found out the truth, if he ever knew how much I still dream about that night…”
I let out a choked sob, ashamed of my reaction.
I don’t cry. I haven’t truly wept since I found out about the accident, but I can’t stop the tears that stream down my face. When I turn to my friend, I see tears have filled her eyes, too.
“I wish I could change the way you see this,” she says. “That’s not what happened.”
“Don’t, Piper,” I whisper. “Just please, don’t.”
“Okay,” she breathes. “Tell me what I can do, then. If there’s anything at all you need.”
“I need to be alone for a bit, I think,” I tell her, hating the guilt that pierces my chest. “To process all of this.”
“Oh.” Piper does her best to hide the surprise and disappointment on her face, but it’s no use. She nods and stands, clearing her throat.
By rejecting my friend, I’m hurting her.
Even her earthy catmint scent has soured.
But I don’t want her to see me like this.
I don’t even know how to acknowledge what happened today without curling up into a ball and shutting myself out from the world.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Piper asks, not unkindly.
“I just need today to process, and figure it all out,” I tell her. “I’ll be there tomorrow. The cats still need us.”
The corner of her lip twitches. “Yeah. They always do.”
“Thank you,” I add, motioning to the supplies. “I wouldn’t have purchased these myself.”
“I know.” She grabs her purse from the counter, then turns back to me. “Call me anytime, and I’ll come over.Anytime. We have a spare room for you at the packhouse, too.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
Once the door closes behind her, I put my face in my hands and weep.
I sob like I haven’t since I was at the hospital after the crash.
I cry like I haven’t since I had to tell the news to Justin’s mother, who immediately told me this was my fault and that I killed her baby boy.
Hot, ugly tears fall down my face until the couch dips with a slight weight.
My tuxedo cats make themselves known, both of them clamoring into my lap. They can’t fit on me at the same time, so Mervin and Marlin lay their paws on each of my thighs, the rest of their squishy bodies placed on the cushions.
It’s hard to keep crying like the world is ending when my two feline companions have come out of their hiding places to check in on me.
“My good boys,” I murmur to them, sniffling. “What am I going to do, huh?”
The only answer I receive is cuddles and unconditional affection.
I decide I’ll give myself this evening to cry it out and let every ugly emotion that I’ve been keeping inside spill from me.
Then, it’s back to the rescue, back to Scents, and back to being normal, level-headed Blair.
The worst part about all this, the cruelest joke of all, is that the anniversary of the accident is only a few days away.
