She blinks. “Like on a date? How progressive of G to share his girl. I guess Sunshine must be rubbing off on him,” she teases. I don’t know Sunshine all that well, so it takes me a while to understand the joke.
“Oh, no, not like that. As friends, not a date date, though we are going to the movies. Oh my god, is this a date?” I start to panic, which causes Neveah to stop spinning. She jumps off the chair and hurries over to me, getting on her knees and grabbing my hands.
“It was a joke. A bad one, apparently. Amity is straight and is asking if you want to catch a movie because that’s what friends do. Not that there is anything wrong with dating a woman, of course, and if that’s what you both want, I’d be happy for you. You—” I cover her mouth with my hand to give my brain a moment to process everything she’s saying.
“Did you always talk this much? I can’t remember.” She licks my palm, making me pull it away. “Eww, gross, what is wrong with you?”
“I was diagnosed with awesomeness. It’s a condition only a few suffer from.”
“How tragic,” I deadpan.
“It’s a cross I must bear.”
I flick her forehead.
She scowls at me. “Were you always this violent? I can’t remember.”
“No, you bring it out in me.”
She grins and bows her head. “Thank you, thank you very much.”
I feel my lip twitch in response to her ridiculousness.
“So just to be clear, Amity likes you and wants to be friends, and I’m happy two of the most important people in my life want to spend time together. And Havoc and I are good. In fact, he had his wicked way with me about an hour ago in that very chair.”
I jump up and brush off my ass, ignoring her laughter. “Dammit, Nevaeh, you’re not funny.”
“Please, I’m hilarious.”
I hover, not sure if that’s it. Do I leave now, or does she want me to stay and talk? Her smile drops as she gets to her feet and reaches for me. I feel myself tense and hate myself for it when a look of sadness flashes across her face.
“I hate that you can’t relax around me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you don’t need to be sorry. It’s me. I need to tone it down. I know I can be too much.”
I grab her arm and vigorously shake my head. “No. Don’t you ever tone yourself down for me. Be loud, be bright, be bold. Be all the things I could have been if my life had been different.”
She tugs me into her arms, and we stand there, a lifetime of missed moments swirling around us that neither of us knows how to absorb, thanks to the evil that invaded our lives and tainted the bond between us.
When she pulls back, her cheeks are damp. She cups my face with both hands and presses the tip of her nose to mine like we used to do when we were kids. “You know you’re my hero, right?”
I jolt at her words, feeling a warmth move through me like an echo, strengthening the weakened bond between us. “I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything.”
“It kills me that you can’t see the badass I do, standing in front of me.”
I huff out a watery laugh. “I think you’re confusing me with Amity.”
She grins but shakes her head. “Amity is certifiable. Who the hell throws themself out of a perfectly good building on purpose? Your strength is different. Honestly, I think I’m the odd one out. I’m surrounded by these amazingly strong women who’ve all survived the flames of hell while I’m over here having a panic attack because I accidentally shrunk my dinosaur onesie.”
I can’t stop the burst of laughter that escapes from me. “I don’t think Amity is the only one who’s certifiable.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but I don’t miss the grin playing on her lips. “I’m serious. I’m in awe of you all. The closest I get to being a badass woman is writing about them.”
“First of all, I don’t think you realize how empowering that is. Some women, including myself, had no idea of their potential because we were always told a certain narrative. My story might be an extreme one, but there are women out there who live with partners who push them to be small, to be less. Most are isolated from friends and family, and honestly, it’s hard not to believe you’re weak and worthless when that’s all you ever hear. Books like yours are a lifeline. Not just as an escape from the reality we find ourselves trapped in, but because, thanks to your words, we see women through your eyes. Women who are pilots, cage fighters, mafia princesses who outshoot their counterparts, warriors, survivors.” I swallow.
“It might be fiction to you, but to us it is real, and in those quiet moments when we feel small and vulnerable, you give us wings.” I cock my head when she starts crying again. “What’s wrong?”
