“Just remember,” she says, voice steady, “it’s not only your life you’re altering here. It’s hers. And she’s already been through something unimaginable. Please don’t make it worse.”
And then she’s gone.
The bell chimes. The door swings shut behind her. And I’m left standing in the middle of a coffee shop I’ve never been inside, trying to breathe around the pressure in my chest.
She’s right. I know she is.
And that’s the worst part.
But for the life of me, I don’t know which choice will hurt Aurora more—keeping her in the wreckage of my existence, or letting her go.
Letting her have a new life.
One without me in it.
Chapter Seven
But Does He Smell Like Cow Shit?
“He did what?” Abby screeches, her messy, dark bun bouncing as she leans closer to the screen. “Say that again.Slowly.”
“No, thanks.” I scoff, shooting her a glare. “I’d rather forget the entire situation instead.”
“Ah.” She nods. “So we’re still firmly planted in the land of denial. Got it.” She gives me a big thumbs-up. “Super healthy of you, babes.”
“I know, right?” I agree, propping my phone up on a stack of books.
Abby sticks her tongue out at me. I flip her off. She cackles.
Shifting from the couch to the entryway of my temporary home, I grab the next cardboard box, one of far too many stacked against the wall. Unpacking feels like some kind of personal torture to me. I don’t even own that much, but somehow, every box I open feels like it's multiplying behind my back.
“But seriously,” Abby begs, lip jutting out in a dramatic pout. “Please, just at least describe the manhandling to me. In great detail, leave nothing out. I promise I won’t ask you anything else. And if I go off camera and on mute, just ignore me, but don’t stop talking about that sexy cowboy of yours.”
“My life is not diddle-material, Abigail,” I shoot back, tugging the tape off the next box. “And he is notmycowboy. He’s a client.”
Just thinking about Kade Archer and his stupid arms and giant man-paws sends a full-body shiver up my spine. The man is far too attractive for his own good, and way too cocky for everyone else’s.
“Whatever.” She huffs, flopping dramatically onto her bed. “Tell me and I’ll be your best—”
“You already are,” I interrupt.
Abby groans, long and loud. “Stop being such a prude.”
“You can’t goad me into talking.”
“You’re withholding vital information,” she accuses, propping her chin on her fist. “And we promised never to keep secrets from each other.” Her voice dips as she hits me with a wounded look that smacks me right in the chest. “Are you seriously goingto go back on our unbreakable vow of friendship so soon after abandoning me?”
I gape at her, bubble-wrapped frying pan suspended mid-air. “Low blow, witchling.”
“Sorry, ginger tits.” She’s not. “Did it work, though?”
Of course it did.
I blow out a breath and glare up at the popcorn ceiling, already resigned to telling her all the gory details. Truth be told, I’m dying to talk about it. But talking about it will make it feel like it’s athing, and I’m desperately trying to avoid that.
“Georgie?” Abby coos, clicking her tongue. “Come back to the land of the living. Mama’s waiting.”
“He slapped his hand over my mouth, Abby,” I say—deadpan. “In front of hismother.”
