She tilts her head, a small smirk of judgment on her lips. “And?”
I sigh. “And then your asshole of a man?—”
“Jasmine,” Cast growls, but I flip him off and continue while making eye contact.
“Asshole,” I repeat. “Assigned this guy to shadow me, like a bodyguard or some shit, which means I had to deal with himallthe time. And one thing led to another… I tried it out, and surprise, surprise—I liked it.” I let out a rushed sigh and shrug, shooting a sideways glance at Landon, who just grins like the fucking smug bastard he is. “Well, him and Conner.”
Conner Kilgore, who is avoiding me like the plague, and who I have not fucked yet—but I’m pretty sure my underwear being his main jerking-off pal constitutes a sexual relationship. Right?
She blinks again, shaking her head. “So, no girls?”
I grip my chest and gasp. “Yes girls! Do you think I could ever abandon the fairer sex? The last and love of my life is Brooke.”
Landon raises a brow, his smug smile deepening. “Hey, I thought I was your favorite.”
“Not right now, Lan.” I hiss, narrowing my eyes on him and placing my hands on my hips. “You are ridiculous. And pushy.”
Landon just chuckles and reaches out, curling a hand around the nape of my neck, his fingers threading into the short undercut—which makes every spark of electricity there fire off like it’s the Fourth of July. He leans in, murmuring in my ear, “You weren’t saying that when you were begging me to fuck you deeper andharder against the kitchen table. I think I was your favorite then.”
The air catches in my throat and I jerk back, smacking him in the chest. “Company, Lan!”
He laughs, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Right, right. Behaving now.” But the wink he gives me makes my thighs clench, because three weeks of depression means three weeks with no sex—and I am regretting that choice very much right now.
“See, this is why I need Brooke.” I turn back to Willow and roll my eyes. “Anyway, you need to tell me everything—like, I literally want to know every time you pissed. Everything.”
She giggles. “That may be TMI, but I’ll tell you just about everything.”
“Good enough.” I lace her fingers with mine and pull her in the direction of the stairs. “No boys allowed!”
We disappear up the stairs like we’re teenagers again, like nothing and everything has changed. And rush to her bedroom, which strangely looks like a copy of her childhood home, and I file that to ask about later.
We collapse onto my bed like we used to—legs tangled, hair messy, laughter still echoing in the bones of the room. I don’t even care that there are unfolded clothes on the duvet or that my bra is poking out from under a pillow. It’s just us, like always.
Willow lies back, arms flopped out like a starfish, and I follow suit, turning my head toward her on the pillow. The silence that settles now isn’t awkward. It’s familiar. A quiet only best friends understand. This feels like home.
Her eyes flick toward me, and I see it—the crack beneath the smile. The place where grief lives when you’ve shoved it too deep to speak aloud. It’s like the giddy humor of seeing each other has faded and the reason why she is home, and I have been distraught is coming to a head between us.
I push up slowly, resting on one elbow. “I didn’t know if they told you but--” I say softly.
“I know,” she whispers. Her voice is so hollow it sounds like it’s been rung out and hung up to dry.
Willow curls into herself in the middle of the bed and doesn’t look at me. Just keeps staring at the ceiling like it might swallow her whole, or resurrect our father. I mean I know he’s not myrealfather but he is as close as I will get.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper back, trying to catch her eye.
I reach for her, slipping an arm beneath her neck and pulling her close until her temple is tucked against my collarbone. I hold her there, tight. A fierce, protective hold. My chin finds the top of her head and I don’t realize how tightly my eyes are squeezed shut until my throat threatens to collapse.
“He was like--” I whisper ready to call him mine too, but the words die on my lips. “I’m sorry about Tommy.”
“You can say it, you know?” She doesn’t move from my embrace.
I shake my head no. “He was yours, and I-”
“You are his daughter as much as I am…was.” I let out a shaky breath as she quickly exhales.
God, my chest caves at that. Tommy will never know how much he means to me. I never told him that he was like a father to me. I never said I love you to him, like really said I love you to him.
Willow kisses my knuckles. “He loved you.”
