“I can hear you hussies,” I spit under my breath, trying to find the delicate balance between staying loyal to the people I love at the ranch and still defending my friend, who I know is a good person.
Hattie opens the door a second later. In a neon blue bikini and enormous sun hat, no less. I keep telling her to change after lying out at the pool every morning, but she never listens.
She glances at me, then at the girls sitting at the table. Her toned thighs separate as she cocks a hip. For a second, I think she might turn around and run to her car.
She walks inside and closes the door instead. Her steps are commanding and unnaturally slow as she glides leisurely to the kitchen and places a bottle of white in the fridge. She could be bothered, but we’d never know. As much as I like her as a friend, even I know how skilled she is at always keeping her outer appearance in check.
Savannah swallows and Blythe narrows her eyes as Hattie turns back around. She blinks once with her long, black eyelashes, and then slowly lifts her mouth into a sticky sweet, closed-lip smile.
“I see I’m late to the intervention. Wine?”
“Give me that!” Hattie reaches across me to snatch the phone out of my hand, but she’s too slow.
We skipped the riesling because Blythe said it would make her face puffy in pictures this weekend. Assembling the snack board was unbearably tense, but then Savannah fished a pack of matching pajamas from her trunk that were meant for the bridesmaids to wear on Saturday.
We protested at first, but she assured me she had an entire set of backups in another color. Then she told us to get along, sit down on a pillow, and eat some chocolate before she slapped us all across the head with the bottom of her sandal.
An hour later, we’re in a circle on the floor in the living room and trading gasps over the infamous drama between Hattie and the man she likes to call the bane of her existence—better known as Heston.
“This one is so cute, though.” I place a hand on my chest and look down at the picture of them smiling at each other. Heston’s face is unrecognizable. They’re sitting on the third step of the staircase in the bunkhouse that leads to the loft. “Are you sure it’s water under the bridge?”
Hattie rolls her eyes and finally takes back her phone. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Why do you still have that picture?” Savannah asks with pursed lips and eyes barely peeking over her glass of sparkling water.
“It’s an old phone. I have to use it while I wait for a new one to ship to me.”
“Right,” Blythe murmurs. I lightly slap her on the arm, and she inhales deeply to fix her skeptical expression.
She and Hattie haven’t pulled each other’s hair yet, so I’d say this is going well.
“Anyway, now thatthat’sover.” Hattie scoots closer to the center of the circle, then hugs the nearest pillow into her lap and looks at me. “I think we all know why we’re really here. What’s the master plan?”
I didn’t expect these three to team up after witnessing their first interactions together. To my surprise, they seem to be on the same page now and each look to me with excitement.
“There’s noplan,” I groan. “I appreciate it, girls. I really do. But seriously, I am in a good place. I’m way ahead of my work schedule, I’ve said my piece, and I’m sure we’ll talk soon when both of us are ready. We’re grown adults, not high schoolers. I’m not eating Cherry Garcia ice cream at three in the morning withNew Moonon the TV.”
“That’s a little too specific for it not to be true,” Blythe points out.
“Well, it’s not. Maybe a long time ago I did that. But this time, I’m okay. Whatever is meant to be will work itself out. I only have control over myself right now. The rest is up to fate, and I’m not the kind of girl to draw up plays to win anyone back anymore.”
I laugh as each of them breaks into a cinema-worthy slow clap.
“I’m going to kill him,” Hattie says.
I purse my lips. “Please don’t do that. There’s no reason to be mad at him. A lot of what happened came so hard and fast that neither of us were prepared for it. But I was the one who basically said that he hadn’t put enough thought into what he believes and what he really wants. I—left.”
“You did the right thing,” Savannah says softly.
My head tilts down, and I tangle my fingers in my lap. I haven’t allowed myself to dwell on it much until now. I can admit that despite being proud of myself and my somewhat positive outlook on the situation, I’m still sad. Two hands gently rub my upper back on either side.
“Is he okay?” I ask.
“From the wreck? Yeah,” Blythe clarifies. “Gage said he’s been off and not very talkative this week, though. Whatever was said between you two, I think he’s miserable over it.”
Should that lift my spirits? It doesn’t. I don’t like the image of him being sad any more than I did the night things went south.
If his life had kept moving and he hadn’t missed a beat, though, I may have been even more heartbroken. I still would have picked myself up and gotten through this week with the same ambition to come out of this alive. But yeah, my heart would have been in pieces.
