I’m just so happy I didn’t lose him.
“So, how’s it been, being back here?” I ask because even though it’s only been three days, I still miss the sound of my friend’s voice.
He pauses and shifts my leg slightly before saying, “Better. Easier than it was.”
“Yeah?”
“When my dad was here…” He trails off, jaw tightening. “Something always felt off. Like he was lying, even before the actual affair.”
I grimace. “You know, the offer for that gift basket still stands.”
His mouth twitches. “Don’t you dare. I can only imagine what you would send, and we need to keep your record clear to go pro.”
“You can approve it before I send it,” I offer, which makes him snort.
He exhales, then continues, quieter, “I was angry at first with both of them for not fixing it.” His finger gently tapping against my leg. “I thought they should’ve just…made it work.”
“And now?” I probe, curious what’s going through my friend’s mind. He’s rarely in such a sharing mood, after all. I need to take advantage of it.
“Now?” he repeats, hands pushing against my leg and guiding me deeper into the stretch. “My mom’s happier. I didn’t even realize how unhappy she was before.”
I glance toward the door, thinking about the pictures and how much lighter everything feels.
“Yeah, I can see that,” I say softly.
He hesitates before he adds, “I feel guilty sometimes for wanting them to stay together in the beginning.”
I look at him and tilt my head. “Why?”
He shrugs, eyes glued to his hands. “Because I should have known how much more miserable they would’ve been.”
“Colten,” I call out.
He looks at me.
“Isn't not wanting things to change normal?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You remember how I was when I moved to the big city, right? You told me yourself, it’s because it was all I ever knew.” Then, with a small grin, I add, “Buses are still scary, though.”
His expression shifts, the corner of his lips curling up. It’s small, but real.
“You’re surprisingly emotionally intelligent sometimes,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.
I grin. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “You really don’t.”
“Well, I should,” I decide. He snorts, and my stomach does that weird swoopy thing again.
A natural pause fills the space between us, and I feel warm, like things are going to be okay.
Then, because I’m an idiot that doesn’t know when to stop—
“Also, your mom is hotter than ever. Do you think she’d be interested in younger guys?” I ask, grinning.
The change is immediate, like a switch flipping.
His smile disappears, and his hands go still.
“Don’t,” he warns, his voice flat. “That’s not funny, Patrick.”
