Page 17 of When the Smoke Clears

“When you were eavesdropping?”

“Maybe.” She giggles, wiping her mouth with a paper towel. “Will, she’s so fun, and the coolest doctor ever. She plays video games. And did you know she started college when she was twelve? Like, dude! That’s so cool. Why did you break her heart? She’s so pretty and probably the smartest person in the world. Maren says you’re a little broken.”

Fuck me.

What the hell happened during the weeks I was in Somers with my parents? When did my friends decide to conspire against me? And who brings a child into such a mess?

“Did Everleigh mention why I supposedly broke her heart?”

Lola shakes her head.

I set my beer on the counter and lean my backside against it, rubbing my nose because they have a stupid cat and I’m highly allergic to cats. “She lied to me. She’s a liar. So let this be a lesson to you, young lady. If you lie, boys will break your heart.”

“William!”

My gaze shoots to Maren in the doorway, grocery bags in her hands and blue eyes shooting daggers at me. “You did not just tell her that, did you?”

“Run along, sweet pea.” I wink at Lola. “You’ll be fine. You’re not a liar.” My smile fades as I sneeze three times in a row.

Stupid cat. This is why I rarely visit.

Maren sets the bags on the counter and adjusts her long, blond ponytail before giving Lola a quick hug. “Give me and Will a minute. Go clean Bandit’s litter box.”

I wrinkle my nose and wipe it with the back of my hand, hoping the tickle subsides before I go into a full sneezing attack or anaphylactic shock.

“Serves you right,” Maren says.

After a brief pause to let Lola get out of earshot (unless she’s eavesdropping), I cross my arms over my chest. “Everleigh fucking Reichart? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

“You pawned her off on Jamie and Fitz. It’s called karma.” She pulls the groceries out of the bags.

“Suggesting someone help her out for a few nights is not the same as a twelve-month lease.”

“She wanted a six-month one, but I knew you preferred twelve.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language, William. This is a family home, not your bachelor pad.” She unloads the groceries, talking with her back to me. It’s all too dismissive.

“I don’t have a bachelor pad because you invited the girl who nearly put me in prison to live in the shed. And she’s a mess, Maren. Shit everywhere. And my garage looks like a gym. Seriously, what were you thinking?”

“You love to work out, so I told her you’d be okay with it. You rarely park in the garage anyway. And Everleigh is an excellent influence. She’s in phenomenal shape. Have you seen her legs? Good lord, her muscles just pop.” She sighs.

I frown because I don’t care what Everleigh’s legs look like. Okay, I mostly don’t care.

“I think she’s the one,” Maren says, dumping a bag of grapes into a glass bowl and filling it with water and vegetable spray.

“The one what?” I sip my beer.

“The woman for you.”

Again, I choke and shake my head. “N-no.”

She shuts off the water and turns while drying her hands with the towel.

“Maren, I could have gone to prison for statutory rape. I don’t know why everyone thinks this is a joke. It’s not. I lived on pins and needles for three years. I jumped every time someone knocked on my door. It wasn’t funny then, and it’s still not.”

Maren rolls her eyes.