“Not true, Lucy Madison. I need all the information.”
“Well, then, you’re getting it. Because I’m damn near bleeding out, and I’m bloated like a baby whale, and I’m cranky and I need a hug. I was barely holding it together, but then I came home for lunch—which is Midol, by the way, and I saw your package and now I’m crying.”
He’s quiet for a minute.
“I wish like hell I could hug you right now, Lucy Bernadette. And I’d sit in that lecture hall and take notes for you and make you dinner and feed you Witch Hats.”
I sniffle. “I wish you could, too.”
“Look…um, I actually need to run,” he says, his tone changing abruptly, and I wonder if maybe he’s at the coffee shop or meeting his friends for lunch.
“No worries. We can talk later or—”
“We’ll talk later, Lucy. You can count on it. And your day is going to get better, I promise.”
I don’t think my day could get much better than a conversation with my favorite person, but his words still make me smile.
Chapter 23
Whit
I’m runningacross campus like my ass is on fire. I nearly plow over Ian, my favorite barista, and a good friend of Phoebe and Willa’s.
“Shit, sorry, Ian,” I say, bracing my hand on his arm to keep him from falling on his ass.
“Everything ok, Whit? Is something wrong?” There’s a look of panic on his face, and I instantly feel bad.
“No, everything’s cool. It’s just that I’m running late, and there’s somewhere I really need to be.”
Instantly, he looks relieved and pushes his glasses up a little higher on his nose. “Good. That’s good. For a second, I thought maybe… But, everything’s good. Well, good luck getting to where you need to go,” he calls as I once again take off.
It takes me less than five minutes to pack my meds and a few clothing items. Since I haven’t done laundry in way too long—that’s where my domesticity ends—I raid Booker’s closet. He’s a little broader than I am, and his waist is smaller, but that’s what they make elastic waistbands for.
Checking my phone, I see that I have just enough time to shove some leftover pot roast in my mouth before heading out. And while that warms up, I text my boys.
Whit: Heading out for the weekend. You bitches be good.
Ty: Where to?
Knox: Three fucking guesses, Tyrus. God, aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?
Whit: Will someone other than Knox feed Stefan. I love you, man, but I don’t trust you not to poison my cat.
Booker: Will do. Have fun. Don’t forget condoms or your meds. Love you. And tell Lucy we say hi.
These guys. They know me better than I know myself sometimes, and for that, I’m grateful. I’m also cutting it close, so I toss my stuff in my car and haul ass to the airport.
* * *
The flight was long,but I had good tunes, so I didn’t mind too much. And my seatmate was a mom and her five-year-old son who used my arm as a racetrack for his Hot Wheels. I now have a new best friend named Leo.
I grab a rideshare to Lucy’s dorm and arrive just as the sky begins to darken. In a month or so, the clocks will change, and it won’t be dark quite yet. I wonder if I’ll be visiting Lucy again next month. I hope so.
I take the steps two at a time and call her.
“Hey, did your day get better?”
“Not really. Class was interminable. But I’m home now, and I have cookies.”
