“Clover Danforth, open this door right now or I’m using the spare key!” Madi’s voice cuts through my haze of panic, and I realize I’d stopped breathing altogether.
Relief floods me so fast my limbs buckle, and I’m thankful I’m already clutching the counter for balance.
I allow myself three breaths. Just three. Enough to manage the terror before I face my friend. Then I wipe my eyes, paste on something that might pass for composure, and push myself off the counter.
“I know you’re in there. I can practically hear you counting,” she says.
Nothing shocking there. Madi’s known me long enough to recognize the sound of my survival mechanisms through a solid steel door, so I make my way to the front of the house.
I trace each deadbolt out of habit, then unlock them and drag the door open.
Madi stands on my porch with her arms crossed, still in yesterday’s clothes, mascara smudged under her eyes as if she’s been crying. Elle is beside her, looking equally wrecked, holding two massive Walmart bags and wearing pajama pants with tacos on them.
“You look terrible.” I don’t mean to say it, but my filters are exhausted.
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to tell a pregnant lady she looks like crap?” Madi eyes me up and down. “But back at you, babe.” She pushes past me into the house, her round baby belly leading the way. “When’s the last time you slept?”
Fourteen years ago—give or take. But I stay silent and inch out of the way so Elle can enter. I do, however, scan the carsoutside. Rip is still where I left him, but Valen’s car is now abandoned.
The emptiness of loss hits me hard.
Then a prickling sensation crawls across the back of my neck—that familiar, terrible feeling of being watched by someone who is not my bodyguard. I scan the street, but nothing moves. Just the morning light and the quiet hum of a town waking up. Still, I jump back faster than necessary.
“That’s what I thought,” Madi tuts, while Elle kicks the door shut behind her. It would’ve smacked me in the face if she hadn’t tugged me out of the way at the last minute. “We’re staging an intervention.”
I busy myself with engaging the locks. “I don’t need?—”
“It’s not up for debate.” Madi’s already in my kitchen, pulling things from Elle’s bags. The closer I get to them, the more my stomach rumbles. She has breakfast burritos in three different flavors, tissues, face masks, and an assortment of drinks I can’t see through my blurry eyes.
Then she pulls out a weighted blanket in a shade of blue that coordinates with my couch—the exact one I’ve had in my online shopping cart for three weeks.
My throat tightens. “You guys?—”
“Don’t.” Elle holds up a hand. “We’re not talking about it yet. First, we’re going to sit down, eat our feelings, numb the sadness, and pretend like the world isn’t falling apart for exactly twenty minutes. Then we’ll talk about—about Savvy. And then—” She sniffles, and her gaze cuts to the window where we all know Valen’s team has taken up residence. “Then we’ll talk about your mysterious lover who suddenly showed up out of nowhere.”
“He’s not?—”
Madi’s glare stops me mid-sentence.
“Kitchen table. Now.” She points with one hand, holding up her belly with the other. Geez, late-stage pregnancy makes her bossy. “And if you try to tell us you’re fine one more time, I’m calling Braxton and having him physically carry you to my inn.”
I slump into a chair across from her as she takes ownership of my house and carries three plates to the table because arguing when she’s in mama-bear mode is like arguing with a hurricane—pointless and likely to end in property damage.
Elle sits beside me, immediately wrapping the new weighted blanket around my shoulders. It settles over me like a hug, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.
Madi’s hand rests on my forearm, filling the emptiness with something other than my fear, and my body slowly falls out of the flight part of fight-or-flight.
“Better?” Elle asks softly.
I nod, unable to form the words of gratitude that should fall effortlessly from my lips.
I’ve spent years trying to feel safe on my own, behind the castle walls I built, but safety is an illusion because I was spiraling until the moment these two crashed through my front door.
Madi pushes a plate across the table. The scents of bacon and cheese waft to my nose, causing my stomach to rumble as though it’s ready for its wrestling debut.
“Eat, Clover, please. I can only handle one incapacitated friend at a time.”
Savvy.
