“Grace! I didn’t even tell you a day.” She says something else, but it’s lost when I shut the door behind me a little harder than necessary. I rush down the steps to my hired car, feeling only relief at escaping the suffocating house.
I’ve dreamed of having a place in this family my entire life, but now I’m learning that I don’t have time for people who don’t have time for me. I’ve given so much to my parents over the years, desperate for even an ounce of affection or approval, but I’m finally seeing that it’s never going to come, and these visits aren’t worth the emotional toll they cost.
Elyse is waitingfor me at the Sugar Spoon, having commandeered a table on the outside patio. She looks up as I approach, her smile bright. “I wondered whether you even remembered where this place was.”
“How could I forget?” I counter, sliding into the seat across from her. “This place makes the best damn cupcakes. I still haven’t found anything that comes close to beating their strawberry cheesecake ones.”
Elyse and I have known each other for almost a decade now, having met in middle school and immediately clicked. She’s the person who kept me sane during our teen years, and while life has meant that we don’t talk as much as we used to, our friendship always feels exactly the same when we do.
“You look like you’ve been run over by a truck.”
“A Mack truck full of emotional damage,” I inform her dryly. “Mom was just about to start in on why I shouldn’t be wasting my life playing with flowers when I made an escape.” A server appears, efficiently filling our water glasses before taking our order. When she’s gone again, I look back at Elyse. “There’s probably still smoke coming off my heels. I got out of there so fast.”
“Did she figure out you’ve been staying in my guest room?” Elyse’s auburn eyes are fairly twinkling with delight. “Does she know you’re back within my corrupting influence? Please tell me she does.”
I pull my brows together in an exaggerated frown. “Of course she does. I couldn’t lie to my dear mother, could I?”
Elyse laughs. “God, I can imagine that constipated look on her face. That woman has always hated me.”
“She thinks you were the one who introduced me to drinking and weed.” I chuckle. “And she’ll never know the truth.”
Elyse lifts her water glass, waiting for me to raise mine before clinking them together. “Cheers to always taking theheat for you. It gives me a tingle in my secret place to know how much I get on her nerves without even trying.”
I was sipping my water as she spoke, spluttering into my glass as her words register. Elyse cracks up as I pat my face with a cloth napkin.
“Christ. A little warning, please.”
“Warning you would ruin the fun.”
I shoot her a dirty look, but the server is back, setting our food down in front of us. My mouth waters at my plate of cheesy pasta, while Elyse already has her cutlery in hand, tackling her open chicken sandwich.
“You seem better today,” she says, giving me a pointed look as she takes her first bite.
I lower my eyes, watching my fork intently as I swirl pasta around the prongs. “Better than what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Gracie,” she chides. “You seem like yourself today. And I know it’s not because you had quality bonding time with your mom.” Her expression softens, a sympathetic smile playing on her mouth.
I put some food in my mouth, giving myself time to really think about my answer. “I’m still hurting,” I admit. “It feels like a bruise that keeps getting poked, you know? Or a sore that just won’t scab over.”
It doesn’t help that I can’t stop picturing them together—Braxton and Paisley. Sitting in a dark theater, their hands touching, her head on his shoulder. I wasn’t there, but I canseeit as if I were, no matter how much I try to block it out.
Elsye shakes her head. “It’s been less than two weeks since New Year’s. Give yourself some?—”
I point my knife at her threateningly. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“—grace.”
Elyse is grinning maniacally, and I roll my eyes. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“And proud of it.” We fall quiet, each of us focusing on our food, and I relax, thinking I’m safe. But then Elyse asks, “Do you think you’ll talk to him? Get some answers?”
My ribs feel too small, squeezing my lungs tight. “Maybe,” I murmur. “Sterling Creek is a small town, and it’s hard to avoid someone who doesn’t want to be avoided, you know? But I don’t know if I’m ready to know everything he did and why.”
“I couldn’t handle not knowing,” she says.
“I thought that, too. But what if it’s worse than what’s already in my head?”
“True.” She purses her lips. “But what if it's the other way around, and your imagination is worse than the truth?”’
