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If he wasn’t out there, I’d just do it myself really quick. It was the right thing to do, she didn’t need to be standing in a snowdrift before the sun came up shoveling half a ton of snow.

Nobody needed to know it was me. In fact, she’d probably think it was Mike, which frankly was fine. At least I wouldn’t have to explain it.

When I got to Larissa’s building, Mike wasn’t there.

I started shoveling.

I got madder the longer it took.

Not because I had to do it—I didn’t care about that—but because he shouldn’t be okay with her doing this herself. Larissa was a capable woman, she could dig out a car. But why the fuck should she have to? What was he doing to make sure her life was easier? Or safer? Why didn’t this bother him?

It wasn’t my job to worry about her. It was his job. And this is how he did it. I don’t know why he kept missing the broad strokes, and I was starting to not care what his problem was.

I didn’t want to judge my best friend or feel resentful toward him, but I was. I wanted him to be good enough for her. I wanted him to be here shoveling out her car. I wanted him to step up and he just fucking wasn’t. I tried to guide him to make the right choices, help him to do what was best for her, remind him, make suggestions—do it myself and let him take credit. Because at the end of the day all that really mattered was that Larissa was happy, and safe, and that things were a little easier for her. But it was making me hate him.

I kept thinking Mike was going to come up behind me. I heard phantom crunching and I’d whip around to see nobody. I guess that was for the best at this point because I had no idea what I would say if he caught me doing this. I had no idea what I’d say if she caught me doing this. My adrenaline was spiked the whole time and not because of how exhausting it was.

I cleaned off the car, scraped the ice off her windshield, shoveled a path from her front door to her parking space. I wished I had her keys so I could warm it up for her.

I finished at four thirty, went home, tried to go back to sleep, and couldn’t. I told myself it was the exercise, but really I knew what the problem was.

I didn’t want Becca out in the weather at 5:00 in the morning either, but I wouldn’t have done the same for her. It was different with Larissa, and I didn’t even want to admit why.

The way I felt about her wasn’t getting better like I’d hoped it would.

I hadn’t seen her in a month. Partly because she was busy, but also because I was making it a point not to be around.

Some self-preservation instinct told me I needed to put space between us because the more time I spent with her, the shittier I felt. Except not seeing her at all felt even worse.

I hadn’t seen Mike either.

She’d been staying at his place and I couldn’t bring myself to go over there. It was too exhausting.

When I met Mike at the gym, all he wanted to do was talk about her and I didn’t want to hear it. So I made excuses, I didn’t return texts, I bailed on Jesse’s Halloween party because she was going to be there with Mike.

And I missed her. I thought about her, all the time.

I wondered if I’d have these feelings if Mike was doing the things he should be doing. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so protective of her if I didn’t have to be. Maybe I’d think of her less if I didn’t have to take care of her when no one was looking.

But even as I thought it, I knew it didn’t matter. Because deep inside I knew that if the worry was gone, the thing underneath it would still be there. The thing that caused the worry would still exist. And it would be even harder for me to pretend it wasn’t what it was.

I wanted to take care of her. Help her. Make her happy.

And I wanted to do it, no matter what it would do to me.

31

LARISSA

Mike carried a box out to his truck, and Mom watched him go while she stood in her robe in my bedroom doorway. I was starting to move things to his place today. I wasn’t leaving the apartment for another two weeks, but I wanted to pack up what I could in advance so moving day would be easier. I was breaking down my bookshelves and boxing up my summer clothes.

“You know, you could come with us,” Mom said, watching me stack paperbacks.

“I know. I appreciate you asking me. It’s just going to be better for everyone if I stay here,” I said.

“I’m gonna miss having you around,” she said.

“Come visit us.”