Which is fair.
And Margot? She always seemed to respect that.
But now that I’m pulling up to Ingrid’s house, I wonder what would have happened if I had reached out. Showed up once in a while for dinner. Went on one of those damn trips Elowyn always wanted me to go on with them.
I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Other than my mom, I’ve never been anyone’s first choice. I’ve always come second to Margot and Elowyn. And Cash.
For the most part, I’ve been good with that. I don’t need to be the most liked person in theroom. I don’t even need to be chosen first. I’m not like Cash. I don’t thrive in competition.
But every once in a while, it wouldn’t be so terrible to be someone’s first—and only—choice.
And all I can think about now is how insane it is to be thinking about being first when someone died.
Death is morbid. I’ll give it that.
“I can’t believe we’re already home,” Ingrid groans beside me in the passenger seat, pulling me out of my dark, twisty thoughts. “How does this road trip feel like the shortest and longest trip of my life?”
Cash chuckles from the back seat. “Because it was.”
I should say something, but silence is just easier.
It requires less of me.
And right now, I have nothing worthy to give anyone.
I’m drowning in guilt and regret. But what if that guilt isn’t really mine to carry?
What if I’m doing what I always do? Take on the weight of everyone else’s problems?
“We marked off every bucket list item,” Ingrid proudly proclaims. “We did it.”
Another bucket list. Another summer.
But this one felt different.
So much different.
“Well,” Cash clears his throat as he flings open the car door. “I am going to head down to the house and take a long, hot, overdue shower.”
“I’ll be down in a bit,” I say to him.
Ingrid clocks it immediately. “We can shower here,” she suggests.
I glance up at the house. There’s an anxious knot coiling in my gut. There’s a fifty-fifty chance Isla wormed her way into Ingrid’s room. And if she did, the next ten minutes are going to be hell.
I’m not even talking metaphorically.
Ingrid will lose it.
“Let’s unpack, then we can figure it out,” I say.
“You two ever figure out who won that bet you had going?” Cash asks as I step out of the car and stretch my arms over my head.
“Obviously, I did,” Ingrid interjects. “I did not go skinny dipping.”
“No,” Cash grumbles. “But you did go tent dipping.”
