I could see the disappointment and sadness on her face, but thankfully, Hannah dropped the topic. She mightn’t agree with my decision but I knew if I needed her, if I fell apart when this all came crashing down around me, she’d have my back.
When a mischievous smirk crept across her face, I worried. “So, you and Skye?”
“Oh my God, Hannah! You’re as bad as Mom!”
I had the same conversation with Mom yesterday when she called. Spending ten minutes trying to reassure her that I was looking after myself, and even then, I don’t think I’d been very convincing. I wouldn’t be shocked if she showed up on my doorstep in the next couple of days, casserole in hand.
“That wasn’t denial,” Hannah teased as she broke off a piece of bread and popped it in her mouth.
“We’re friends and not even sure we’re that,” I admitted.
“What did you do?” Mason asked, leaning back in his chair, stretching his arm across the back of Hannah’s chair and looking smug.
“Why’d I have to have done something?”
Hannah and Mason both shot me a look that I knew all too well. One that said everything they weren’t saying.
“I may have been an asshole to her.”
“Well she’s still crashing at your place…” Mason added.
“After I flew to Albuquerque and groveled on my hands and knees.”
“I would’ve paid to see that.”
“You’re mean, Hannah.”
“You have no idea,” Mason added before leaning forward and dropping a kiss on her temple.
“But you’re good now?”
“Yeah, we’re getting along,” I admitted. So far, so good. We kept our distance and stayed out of each other's way, but it wasn’t all bad having someone at home each night when I fell exhausted through the door. Especially when there was a home-cooked meal and a cold beer waiting for me.
“You’re getting along? What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means, we haven’t killed each other. We talk and laugh and she’s helping me fill in the gaps.”
“So you’re using her?”
“What? No. Well…” Shit! I was using her. I hadn’t meant to and until Hannah had said it, I’d never thought of it that way, but I was. I was using her to help me figure out what had happened and why.
“Where is she tonight?” Mason asked, dragging me out of my own head, which frankly was a bloody scary place to be.
“I think she’s at my place.” I shrugged, digging back into my dinner before it got cold.
“And you didn’t think to invite her? Hayden!”
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I did invite her. Thank you very much. She didn’t want to intrude on a family dinner.”
“Oh my God, you’re hopeless.” Hannah shook her head and I concentrated on my food.
After the most delicious chocolate mousse I’d ever tasted, I left the lovebirds and headed home, unable to shake some of the ideas Hannah had planted. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to take a step back and start thinking about something other than vengeance, but I didn’t know where I’d even start.
At my front door, I paused as I dug my keys from my pocket. On the other side I could hear the TV blaring and it sounded like Skye was arguing with it, but that couldn't be right. She was probably on the phone. With a bowl of mousse in hand, I opened the door ready to apologize and offer her dessert as a peace offering. I was not expecting what I found.
I was right. Skye was sitting there, arguing with the TV kind of. Berating one of the characters was more like it. I don’t know who Mercedes was, but Skye was not happy with her. Or maybe it was the tequila talking. The coffee table was buried beneath discarded lime wedges, a half-empty bottle of tequila, and the remnants of what I think was once a kebab.
“Hi,” I announced.
