SAM TOLD HIS PARENTS THAT I HAD THE FLU, and he stayed with me for the few days following our trip. After that first fourteen-hour sleep, I was really fine, but I knew Sam was standing guard for Costa.
On the third morning, I set an alarm for Sam and shoved him out the door. I spent the day on my design work, completing three book cover jobs that were already late. I got back into my daily schedule, refusing to let what had happened interfere with a normalcy that I’d fought so hard to find. A publishing house even contacted me, wanting a thriller cover done for a book they were putting out next year. The good news? They wanted blood and gore on the cover.
I could do that.
It’s been nearly two weeks since that night and since we’ve seen Costa. I know he’ll be back though. Sam and I both do. The only solace I have is that Costa’s already done the most damage he can. There’s nothing else left. Although I hate what he did to me, I hate the way he destroyed his relationship with Sam even more, and that makes my hatred complicated. I don’t understand why Costa tripped me, knowing that it would end his friendship with Sam—a friendship that I’m damn certain Costa values. Theirs was the only true deep relationship he had left in this world, and he blew it all to shit when he slit my throat.
And I cared about him, too—still care really. I can’t say that I don’t. I’m confused and hurt and furious, but Costa’s past and his sadness prevent me from seeing him as entirely despicable. Sam, however, won’t even talk about Costa anymore, choosing instead to latch on to his anger, not the sense of loss and betrayal that I know haunts him.
Maybe Costa is scared of the good, so he ruins it before he can lose it.
I don’t have answers. I just have the aftermath to deal with. To add insult to injury, I don’t seem to have any powers. If I could fling fireballs, I know who my target would be.
I’m walking into town this late-August evening to meet Kelly for dinner. Sam is still working at the inn, and he’s going to meet up with us. Kelly and I have become regulars at a small bistro that opened this summer, and we’ve been getting together every week for lunch or dinner. We’ve worked our way through the menu, but the chef also runs daily specials that are delicious.
Kelly waves to me from an outside table, and I wave back. Her wild black curls are woven into two thick French braids, and I’m suddenly wishing that I hadn’t hacked off my hair last spring. Dining out with Kelly is always fun, but she’s so pretty that we’re constantly interrupted by guys slipping her their phone numbers and sending over drinks.
Tonight, however, she has on a shirt that simply says,Thanks, but I’m a lesbian. AND I have a hot girlfriend.
I laugh when I hug her. “Nice shirt.”
“Thanks. April made it for me. I think she’s hoping Costa will see it. Where’s he been anyway? Dad said he called in a few weeks ago and said he was traveling for a bit.”
I take a seat and pick up the menu, eyeing the appetizers. “Did he say when he was coming back?”
“I assumed you and Sam would know.”
“I’m not really sure where he went. I think to visit someone,” I say vaguely.
“Visit who?”
“Just…I don’t know.”
Kelly pushes my menu down. “What’s going on? Costa doesn’t have any friends outside of Watermark.”
“Oh, fine.” Obviously, I have to lie to her, but I do tell her a partial truth, “He and Sam had a bit of a fight.”
“Shit. Really?”
“Guy stuff, I guess. Costa isn’t the easiest person to get along with.”
“That’s an understatement.” She flags down the server. “I’d hate to see that friendship fall apart again.”
To start with, we order crispy pork belly with peach chutney and also charred Brussels sprouts tossed with pancetta and balsamic. My mouth is already watering.
“What do you think about Costa?” I ask.
Kelly blows out a long breath. “Oh, Costa Jorden…he’s self-centered and a shithead some of the time, I know, but I saw how he grew up. I saw what his parents did to him. I swear to God, I’ve never seen parents care less about their kid. It was like he didn’t exist to them most of the time. When he was only eight or nine, they’d leave for days on end with no food in the house, no working phone, nothing. When my parents found out, they threatened to call child services, but his parents gave some bullshit sob story about how they found work out of town for a few days and had to go. Costa begged Mom and Dad not to make the call. Instead, they got his parents to agree that Costa would stay with us when they couldn’t take care of him. He was with us more often than not.”
I drink half of my grapefruit cosmo to try to ease the sick feeling in my stomach. “Jesus. I didn’t realize it was so bad.”
“I know. My parents would go over to his house to clean and leave some food. I went with them one time when Costa was eleven or so. Liquor bottles were everywhere, and trash was piling up. Costa’s room was no place for a kid—no sheets on his bed, almost no toys. It was disastrous.
“By high school though, Costa was basically living with us and barely had any contact with those people. He had clothes, a warm house, and a family. Finally. Holidays were at our house, and he got presents on Christmas. His parents were nuts. I know they were addicts. Mom told me it was why they never gave those people actual cash. They would have blown it on booze or drugs. Costa grew up in hell. I hate to think about what that kid’s life was like before he had us.”
Everyone’s an addict, I think to myself. “Thank God for all of you.”
Kelly seriously looks at me. “He and Sam can’t fall apart. You do whatever you have to do and make sure that doesn’t happen.”
