It felt like I hadn’t taken a truly deep breath in a dozen years, the kind where you exhaled something other than air. Where youpushed out some of the shit buried so deep, you thought it would always be a part of you.
I closed my eyes, turning my face to Cori’s and resting my chin on her hand.
“Just so I’m clear—Iamallowed to talk to Reign, right?” I asked quietly. “As long as we’re in an area with other people?”
“That’s right,” Marisol replied, clearing her throat, reminding me that Cori and I weren’t alone. My sister eyed us but didn’t comment on how close we stood.
“Bien. Then, if they’re willing, I’ll talk to them more, okay? You know, since I’m here,” I said.
“Sounds like an excellent idea.” Cori squeezed my shoulders one last time before pulling away.
I breathed out a little more.
Chapter twenty
Cori
It felt like I’d barely seen my best friends Britta and Marcus since I’d gone looking for Johnny three weeks ago. Resuming our Sunday brunch ritual finally gave us the chance to catch up, something I didn’t know how much I needed until I felt a sense of fondness, bordering on relief, watching Britta putter around my kitchen.
“You’re enjoying spending time in Everett again?” she asked, unboxing cranberry orange scones onto a ceramic platter. Marcus had stepped outside to take a work call.
I traced the seam of a potholder with my fingers. I’d been so busy that I hadn’t stopped to consider how much my life had transformed in less than a month, let alone whether I was enjoying it. With some surprise, I realized I felt…okay. Good, even. I was still worried about my brother, and Deck confused the hell out of me, but on balance, it felt like I’d made the right decision going back.
“I’m not sure ‘enjoying’ is the word I’d use.” Reaching into the oven, I pulled out a quiche. “It’s like, I went years without even dipping a toe in and now, all of a sudden, the old neighborhood is a huge part of my life again—first looking for Johnny, then working at the Center.” I deposited the pie tin on a hot pad. “But I guess it’s reassuring to know I can still fit in after all this time.”
Britta smiled encouragingly before handing me a mimosa that was at least two-thirds champagne.
Ten minutes and two scones later, we were discussing the never-ending saga of the 1910s bungalow she and Marcus had been living in and rehabbing for years. As she recounted the headaches of having solar panels installed, I nodded sympathetically, so glad we’d made the time to catch up.
The topic turned to work, as it always did. Britta lamented the office politics of Marcus’s and her engineering firm. The familiar stories sparked memories of JBC, but as we weaved between talking about my former company, her job, and my current role at the Center, having a conversation touch on both my adult life and childhood didn’t faze me. I even offered an anecdote about flooding the kitchen at the Center as a fifteen-year-old when I’d unknowingly used countertop dish soap in the dishwasher. In my defense, I’d never had a dishwasher at home.
If Britta noticed my unusual openness about my teen years, she didn’t comment, listening attentively while occasionally glancing at her husband, who continued to pace my deck.
Through the glass slider door, we watched Marcus gesturing wildly with one hand as he held his phone with the other, grinning at his penchant for animated hand-talking.
Marcus had been my college boyfriend. We’d even been engaged briefly following graduation. A year after realizing we were better off as friends, he fell in love with Britta. They were the only people in my grown-up life who knew the details aboutmy childhood. Not the super gritty stuff, like Chi-chi, but the basics.
They knew about the trailer park, my mom, Johnny, and growing up poor. And they knew I didn’t like to discuss it.
But neither of them knew about Deck.
Neither of them knew that having him back in my life again was probably the mostdifferentthing about this past month.
I’d filled Britta and Marcus in on Johnny’s overdose and HIV diagnosis, but I was vague about the man who helped me find him, saying only that he was someone my brother and I knew as kids.
Britta placed her hand on mine as we sat across the counter. “Cori, it’s good seeing you like this. Lighter somehow. I know you struggled with your decision to leave JBC, but it seems as though everything’s turned out okay.”
The slider glass rattled as Marcus came inside, slipping his phone into his back pocket.
“Everything okay at the office?” Britta asked, handing him a drink.
“Fine. Just some interpersonal shit between our new interns, and honestly, nothing that couldn’t have waited until Monday.” He sounded incredibly irritated, and I recalled how this hard, corporate version of Marcus used to scare me sometimes.
Britta had no such reaction. “Well, you’re the dum-dum who took the call, so you don’t get to complain about being the employee crisis line.”
Marcus’s features softened at his wife’s playful tone. “You’re right, as usual. So let’s forget I picked up and get back to whatever you two were talking about.”
Before I could answer, Britta said, “We were discussing how Cori is starting to loosen up a little.”
