Page 29 of Dandelions and Smoke

“I think you mean you were trying to avoid thinking about what happened today,” Tris corrects, putting her floral tote bag on what little space she can find on the counter and walking through the maze of cans across the floor until she’s standing in front of me with her arm stretched out, palm open.

I cross my arms and huff, but she raises a stubborn brow. I drop my arms and tilt my head up.

“Okay, fine, maybe that too,” I admit, taking her hand as she pulls me to my feet.

I take another look at the overwhelming mess I’ve made and feel another wave of exhaustion hit me like a truck.

“Because that’s all you’ll ever be good for: making messes and being one.”

My mom’s words cut through the static, making my teeth grind and anger seize my lungs.

It’s not true.

I refuse to succumb to the accusations of a dead woman who only ever saw the worst in me.

“Hey,” Tris says in a gentle tone that I’ve only ever heard her use with me as she squeezes my hand. “We’ll have this cleaned up in no time, and after that, we can stay here and watch a movie or something. Sound good?”

“Yeah, this is nothin’,” Ainsley adds, taking an inventory as she taps her cowboy boots before continuing. “One time, my uncle accidentally let loose a litter of piglets from their pen, and somehow they managed to get inside and run amok through the whole house.”

“What?” I ask, bewildered by all the stories Ainsley has about things she’s seen while living on a farm.

“Oh yeah,” she laughs, already pulling out the cleaning products from under the sink. “You should’ve seen the look on my Aunt Maggie’s face when she saw all the mud they trekked in. I’ll tell you what…” She points at us with a wide smile on her face. “Those lil piggies weren’t the only ones sleeping in the barn that night.”

In usual fashion, Ainsley’s stories about growing up “south of here and north of nowhere,” as she likes to say, help pass the time. Soon, I’m not only feeling better, but the kitchen is back to normal, now clean and organized, exactly as I intended. We settle onto the couches with a plop, scrolling through movies on various apps on the TV until we land on one we can all agree on. We were supposed to have movie night at Ainsley’s tonight, but when neither of them could reach me on my phone, which was buried somewhere beneath the mess, they showed up here instead.

“Thank you both for your help,” I murmur, tugging at my hair tie. “For showing up.”

“I accept gratitude in the form of presents and money, thanks,” Tris teases.

“I’ll be sure to remember that when I go shopping on Black Friday with Callie, Della, and Emma,” I laugh, rolling my eyes.

“I like pretty things,” Ainsley chimes in, adding her two cents in between popping gummy bears into her mouth.

“Ooo, me too. Though pretty things or not, we’ll always show up for you,” Tris adds before switching gears. “Now, are you ready to tell us what happened when you saw Chief today?” Tris draws out the words, letting the obviousness sink in. “Or are you calling him Garrett now?”

I hadn’t even considered what I should call him. In my mind, he’s Chief. Knowing his name now doesn’t change that. I shelve the thought, deciding it doesn’t matter.

“I’m not calling him anything. Although I guess we’re friends now? I don’t know. It’s very confusing,” I ramble. “Either way, at least I don’t have to worry about hiding when I see him at the cafe now. I figure other than the random sightings, I won’t see him much at all.”

The realization should put me at ease, but it doesn’t.

Ainsley’s hand pauses, her gummy bear halfway to her mouth. I eye her suspiciously, and she lowers her hand.

“So, about that…” A sheepish grin spreads across her face.

“What did you do?” I inhale, my insides twisting as I close my eyes, wondering how I’ve managed to become friends with the biggest meddlers I’ve ever met.

“How’s it feel?” Tris mumbles, a shit-eating grin on her face like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I can’t say I’m wholly innocent when it comes to meddling. Actually, I’ve done my fair share recently. Which is why all I do is look at her out of the corner of my narrowed eyes and glare.

“I invited Chief to the Friendsgiving this Wednesday,” Ainsley rushes out.

“Of course you did.” I twirl in my seat, throwing my arm over my eyes as I drape myself over Tris’s lap, narrowly missing the bowl of popcorn. “Why does she torture me?” I groan as everything that felt too overwhelming to handle earlier resurfaces.

Tris bristles before settling her arms around me as I snuggle further into her. I get a kick out of showing her what real friendship is supposed to be like. Not that either of us has much practice, between me being too busy raising myself and working, and her surrounding herself with fake friends all her life. Ainsley said once that I chose Tris when I arrived in town, and in a way, I did. I chose them both. We’re like different corners of a triangle, but remove one of us, and it all falls apart. Closeness like this, making attachments, used to scare me. In a way, it still does, but there’s something to be said for meeting strangers who somehow feel more like sisters.

“It ain’t torture if it’s good for you,” Ainsley explains, taking a flower from her hair and placing it amongst my curls before giving my chin a quick squeeze.