“Hi, Mia,” Megan called, hurrying her step to plop down in the swing on her right.
Bailey walked slower, stopping a few feet from Mia and holding out the second cup she carried. “Davis gave us an extra coffee to bring to you. I saw him put cream and sugar in it, so I hope that’s okay.”
Mia grinned, remembering how he’d tried to distract her from worrying last night by dragging her to the coffee station.
“He knows how I fix it. Thanks.” She took the cup from Bailey, hoping it was a good sign that these girls had come over to hang out with her.
She didn’t have the emotional resources to put her guard up today after the long night in the hospital. Warily, she watched Bailey take the swing on her left so the girls flanked her.
Mia took a bracing sip of the coffee, readying herself for anything. What if they were here to warn her awayfrom Davis? She could tell Megan was close to him, judging by how easily they’d gotten along yesterday.
“So how are you liking Crestwood?” Bailey asked, tucking her jean jacket tighter around her as she spun in her swing toward Mia. Her purple floaty skirt dragged in the dirt a little, but she stopped fussing with her clothes to sip the coffee, holding the cup under her nose afterward to inhale the steam.
“I like it fine on the days no one throws spitballs at me or accuses me of seducing someone else’s boyfriend.” Another time maybe she wouldn’t have given such an honest answer. But she was too exhausted to be fake and socially acceptable right now.
Bailey froze in place, like she hadn’t been expecting the honesty. But behind her, Mia heard Megan laugh. She shuffled around so she could see her better.
“Do you seduce other people’s boyfriends often?” Megan asked, a teasing light in her eye that didn’t seem malicious.
“Never, actually.” Mia tried to keep her words light and easy, like she wasn’t taking herself too seriously. “So you can see why it’d be such a downer.”
“The joys of high school,” Megan observed drily. “If it wasn’t for my band friends—and Bailey—I don’t know how I would have survived this long.”
“I hate spitballs,” Bailey added, slouching a shoulder into one of the swing chains. “Wouldn’t you think that trend would have ended by third grade?” She glanced over at Mia. “That’s a killer jacket, by the way.”
Mia was slow to respond, carefully reviewing the girls’ words to hear if she’d been slighted. But if there was any agenda of meanness here, she didn’t detect it. And she appreciated the nice words about the jacket—one of twothat Gabriella bought for her last week, along with a new backpack.
“My brother’s girlfriend got it for me.” She liked thinking of Gabby that way. A huge improvement over calling her “my hotline worker” or “my support group leader.” And way better than calling her a traitor—something she’d regretted practically as soon as she’d said it. But it had been an emotional few weeks and Gabriella had seemed content to move forward.
Mia picked at the heavy zipper teeth on the olive-green army jacket big enough to wear like a duster over her long tunic and dark leggings and boots. “I think Erin Finley helped pick it out—you know, the lady who runs the secondhand place?”
Megan started her swing in motion. “Erin is the coolest. Well, maybe she’s tied for coolest with her sister Heather. Have you heard her play guitar?”
They talked a little about music. About the Covington trial. About Bailey’s new boyfriend, Dawson, who lived in the Hasting house were Clay had lived as a teen. Mia’s coffee had been finished for a while by the time she realized she was enjoying talking to them both.
She might have sat there longer except her phone buzzed with a message from Clay asking her to meet him and Gabby over by the fire pit.
“I’d better go.” Hopping out of the swing seat she picked up her empty coffee cup. “My brother is looking for me.”
“I hope you know you can sit with us at lunch anytime you get tired of fending off spitball fire alone,” Megan told her, spinning her swing in a circle so that her flannel shirt tails sailed out around her. “We could make our ownammo, maybe.” She tipped her head back. “Launch a counter offensive on the haters.”
“I’ll tear the paper,” Bailey offered, “but I will not provide any spit.” She stuck her tongue out and made a face. “Too gross. Although I agree, you can sit with us anytime, Mia.”
Mia almost embarrassed herself by bursting into tears.
Leave it to her to tough it out whenever someone called her a slut or a whore. But be nice to her? She wanted to weep with gratitude. Her throat closed up and she didn’t trust herself to speak for a long moment. She nodded fast instead. Swallowed, and finally croaked out, “Thank you.”
If her new friends noticed anything unusual, they didn’t say so. She set off quickly to find Gabby and Clay, thinking life in Heartache was getting better every day.
Leaving this place when Pete passed was going to tear her right in two.
Clay’s father wasimproving.
The doctor said Pete’s progress might be due to the old man’s steely will as much as anything. There was no medical reason he should have turned such a corner after those touch-and-go moments when his heart stopped the night before. But there could be no denying the rapid improvement of his condition. The doctor said he could have months or even a year or two left if he was lucky, so they wanted to transfer him to a local assisted living facility.
Which meant Clay’s commitment to Heartache was done. He’d come here to meet his sister and make peace with his father. Now he’d done both. He was ready to moveforward with his life instead of looking back all the time, and he wanted Gabriella to be a part of that.
He’d wasted too much time running from his family. He was ready to create a new one with Gabby, and Mia, too.
