I’m ready to say no, my blood already boiling with irritation at him. But I don’t want to spend another Friday night alone in my apartment, wondering what Charlie is doing, and withwho.
“Yeah, fine,” I mumble, heading for the door without another word.
“I’ll buy the beer,” Jack calls after me. “You buy the snacks!”
“Whatever,” I grunt, letting the door swing shut behind me before he can say anything else.
“I heard you dumped your girlfriend.”
I flick a dark glare across Jack’s living room at Bliss, imagining how it would feel if her head just kind of…exploded. She’s not even looking at me, her gaze on her phone and nails clacking against the glass when she types anything out. After a beat, she glances at me out of the corner of her eye, but I’m too busy imagining how the blood and brains would just splatter everywhere, coating the wooden floorboards under our feet.
Bliss shifts her weight, her mouth tight. I don’t give a shit. “It’s probably for the best,” she continues, even though I haven’t said a word to her since she walked in the door. She kicks off the spiky heels that look like something that should be used in torture, sliding them under the low wooden coffee table in front of the couch. “She never really fit in with us, you know?”
My back molars grind together. She wants me to bite, to react, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction. Bliss enjoys dissecting people; prying them open and shining a light on everything that makes them tick—every blemish, insecurity, and doubt. I squeeze my hands around the armrest, gritting my teeth as I turn my focus to the hockey game playing on the television.
The Bruins are already up by one, but the Sabres are playing for blood. My mouth twitches as a Bruins winger checks a Sabre forward into the boards, his body snapping backward right before he crumples to the ice. The teams converge on the spot, sticks going down. Bliss leans forward, snapping, “Hello? I’mtalkingto you.”
“I’m aware,” I say impatiently, keeping my eyes on the game. The ref is involved now, and the downed Sabre is back up and acting as if nothing happened. “I was ignoring you. And I didn’t break up with Charlie.” The words are gritted out, my chest aching at the reality of them. “Sheleftme.”
Bliss sits back, lips curling smugly that she finally got to me. “Tomato, to-may-to,” she sings, a mean glint in her blue eyes. She’s clutching a glass of white wine, and she lifts it to her lips, delicately sipping while her eyes never leave mine, appraising me like a predator about to go in for the kill. “It’s probably for the best, right? You and Charlie. I mean, we all saw it coming.”
Her smile is as sharp as her voice, and I shake my head. Charlie never stood a chance against someone like Bliss. I was the one who left her wide open to the attack, not giving her even an ounce of defense, and Bliss knows just how to go in for the kill, taking someone’s vulnerabilities and using them against them when they will do the most damage. It’s a skill that makes her a good lawyer, but a terrible friend—something I’m learning far too late.
Especially when I did the same thing to Charlie. Didn’t I?
I threw everything Charlie had ever told me about her family and the way she grew up right in her face, calling her soft and nothing. I called herweak,as if she isn’t one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.
I acted like I wasn’t proud to call her mine.
Desolation and shame mingle in my chest, burning me from the inside out. I slouch in my chair, turning my head to watch as the puck slides past the Sabres goalie’s feet, but I just feel numb.
Jack saunters in, a beer in each hand and a packet of chips between his teeth. He hands a beer to me before dropping onto the other end of the couch, setting his own down and shoveling chips into his mouth.
“Put the bitch away,” he mutters to Bliss around his mouthful. “You promised.”
She crosses her legs, a sly look slinking into her eyes as she looks at Jack. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. But I’llput it away”—she rolls her eyes dramatically—“just because you asked.” Bliss turns her attention back to me, her expression cold and assessing, making me feel like a specimen she’s shoved under a microscope lens. “I do want to know what’s going on before I pack it away completely.”
“It’s none of your business,” I tellher firmly.
One dark brow wings up. “But it’s Jack’s?”
My head jerks back in surprise, right before I shoot my friend an accusing look.
He shrugs, shaking his head. “Didn’t tell her shit, but you know her.”
Yeah, I do.Bliss is more relentless than a bloodhound on the hunt, especially when she scents easy prey.
“Not only that,” she continues, acting as if he didn’t say a word. “Marisa hasn’t messaged me in a week.” Something indecipherable flashes across her face. “That’s not like her, so I want to know why.”
It’s nothing short of a demand, and I watch her, wishing I’d stayed the hell at home. I came here searching for an escape from the silence of the apartment, and the echo Marisa’s questions had left last weekend—ones I still have no answers for.
I never would have come if I had known that Bliss was going to be here, but getting up and leaving now feels like I’m letting her win. Or maybe I just can’t face the idea of going back to a space where every single square inch reminds me of Charlie and the fact that she’s not coming back.
Bliss plants her bare feet on the floor, leaning forward, her eyes fixed on my face. “Who assaulted you?”
My lip curls at the way she phrased that, but I only say dryly, “I ran into a door.” I should be surprised at the question—the bruising is pretty much gone—but going off Jack’s guilty expression, he told her a lot more than he’s letting on.
Her expression flattens. “Dillon, if Charlie?—”
