"I love you," I say as I head toward the truck. "Also, I'm taking your truck. I know you didn't like that the last time I did it, so…" I taunt.
"The last time you did it, you stole it, and you weren't my wife. What's mine is yours, sweetheart," he says, and I swear his abs literally glisten in the sun. So unfair. When that man is naked, he could tell me to rob a bank, and I’d ask which one.
I slide into the driver's seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. Time to face the conversation I've been avoiding for years.
"Is this box ready to go out to the truck?" Sydney asks as I toss one of my journals on top.
"Um, not yet," I say, looking around my room. "I know I have an album somewhere around here that I want to put in that box."
She gets off the floor and brushes her hair out of her face. "Well, it's not under the bed."
"Why were you under my bed?" I quirk an amused brow.
"You said you couldn't find your mother's locket. I remember you used to keep it on your nightstand." She places her hands on her hips and shrugs. "Thought maybe it fell underneath the bed."
She's dressed down like she came prepared to work, and her skin glistens with a thin layer of sweat since she volunteered to take every box to my truck while I made piles I wanted to take back to the barn. We haven't been seeing eye to eye lately, and I can't help but feel like that's partly my fault. She's defended my father, and it's infuriated me. Yet, I've given Trigger a pass for the same thing, convincing myself he's only staying neutral to protect my relationship with my father, while I've refused to show her that same understanding. It's not fair, and I know that, but when she started talking to Hollis, another layer of emotions was thrown into the mix. I can only fight so many battles, and hers wasn't one I had energy for, so I was quick to be dismissive and unforgiving.
"Thanks for coming today. I appreciate you helping me," I say, folding one of my shirts and tossing it onto the bed.
"Don't thank me; it's what friends do."
"Yeah, well, we both know I've been a shit friend."
"Asha, please don't apologize to me. Friends mess up; we make mistakes. We're only human. Friendship means friends stay friends, and the mistakes…" Her fingers twist, and I can tell all of this has tested her too. "Mistakes stay mistakes."
We hug, and it feels like everything has been forgiven, at least for now, and for now that’s good enough for me.
"Have you started on the bathroom yet?" she asks, starting toward it. "Want me to grab your makeup?" she asks, switching on the light as I follow her in.
I take a look around, and most of what's in my bathroom is towels and soap, but it's the soaker tub that steals my focus. God,I can't wait until I can take a long, hot bath again. We only have a small shower at the barn.
The sound of her pulling open one of my drawers draws my attention back to the task at hand.
"I'll go grab a small box," she says, rifling through the contents. "No sense in leaving stuff your dad won't use here."
She pulls something out and sets it on the counter with a soft thud. A box of tampons. My vision tunnels; everything else in the bathroom blurs except that blue-and-white box. When did I last...? My mind scrambles backward, counting days, then weeks. The realization slams into me like a freight train.
Oh God.
Why can't I remember the last time I used one of those? Not just from that box, fromanywhere. My purse. The glove box. The spare I keep in my makeup bag.
My hands fly into my hair as I start pacing in the bathroom. "Think. Think," I mumble frustratedly.
Eight weeks since the wedding, but I've been stressed. The entire month before London and Laney's ceremony, I was a mess. Their wedding meant I was closer to my own deadline, closer to losing everything, and out of options that didn't include shackling myself to Trigger Hale.
Stress can do that. Throw everything off. Right?
"Are you okay?" Sydney's voice cuts through my spiral as she re-enters carrying a box. "You look like you're going to be sick."
"That's because I might be."
"Do you want me to get you something to eat? Water?" Her concern feels distant, muffled, like I'm underwater.
I sink onto the edge of the tub to keep from falling, as everything feels like it's tilting sideways.
"Asha, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
My gaze locks on the box. That stupid blue-and-white box.
