Involuntarily, I glance back outside again. The new teacher is long forgotten. In fact, she’s tapping on his bicep, trying to attract his attention that is solely—and wrathfully—focused on me. I smile back at him, knowing it will drive him insane. He doesn’t like me happy; he feeds off my misery and his ability to create it. So I smile wider, and his demeanor changes completely. Clouds swarm his disgustingly perfect face, and he even bares his teeth in a snarl. So different from his face when he gave my car a jump. That day, I’d felt like this monstrous thing between us, whatever it is, didn’t exist.
“Oh-oh, somebody’s extra constipated today.” Marina nudges my shoulder, severing the weird, hate-filled connection we have going.
“Looks like it.” I shrug and walk to the kitchen to help with the wall Marina has begun washing the remaining smoke damage off of, throwing one last look at the gorgeous jerk over my shoulder. Soon, I’m so exhausted that I forget all about Justin and his new conquest. Because that’s all she’ll be, whether she knows it or not. He could sell venom to a rattlesnake, and that lady didn’t appear to need a whole lot of convincing.
I sigh and try to forget about the poisonous man beyond the window for a while—and when I finally look back outside, it looks like he’s forgotten about me, too, because I don’t see him out the front window. I covertly glance at the teacher, who’s still there, and notice her scowling at me.Oops, I think to myself with an internal snicker. Feels good to be a cockblocker.Sorry, lady.I go back to cleaning with a suppressed grin and begin wiping the counter. It’s already sparkling since it’s brand new—bought on Freya’s dime.
Freya.Even thinking about her makes me cringe.
Oh man, how do I face her? And how do I even start when I finally do?
We haven't spoken since the day she was attacked, and I was trapped in the pantry three weeks ago. After that chaos, which resulted in her ex being shot, I wanted to go hug the hell out of her, so grateful and happy that she was alive, but Justin or Jake was always around her. They were like big watch dogs yapping at her feet, blocking me from coming anywhere near her.
One time, when I got the courage to go and see her, Jake stopped me on the road and warned me to stay away from Freya, saying she was in bad shape mentally and I might trigger something and set her recovery back. I wanted to send him to hell—nothing new there—but something in his eyes was different. There was no glint of malice or spite, only sincere concern, which worried me more than anything he could’ve said aloud. I reluctantly listened, caring only about her mental health—I wanted my friend to be well again, even if that meant I didn’t get to be a part of her journey and missed her something awful. So I’ve been waiting, hoping she’ll show up when she’s ready, and I’ll beg for her forgiveness when she does.
But she hasn’t.
If I’d doubted how much she’d come to mean to me before any of this happened, the ache in my heart that’s grown more each day she’s stayed away since would confirm it.
“One lonely Kurt coming right up for our biggest sponsor!” Marina’s cheerful voice pulls me out of this miserable train of thought, and I look up. Freya’s standing by the door, looking ready to run for the hills.
She’s here. She came.
And just like that, I start crying like a baby. She's beside me in a heartbeat, enveloping me in her friendly embrace.
“I’m so sorry!” I blubber, my throat congested. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you, but I just couldn’t.”
“No,I’msorry for saying all that stuff to you. I’m sorry, Kayla, I don’t believe that shit I said,” she swears, wetting my neck with her tears and hugging me tighter.
"Screw that; I don't care about that nonsense." And I really don't. At least, not anymore. During our last conversation, she asked me what I had done to Justin's family. No, she didn't just ask—it was more of an accusation, and I got mad and hung up on her. I was tired of everybody blaming me for something I hadn’t done. Something I couldn’t even name. And especially Freya, who I was so happy had decided to be my friend when friends weren’t so easily made or kept for someone like me in Little Hope, Maine. So yeah, I was angry.
“I—wait—I’m so confused,” Freya stutters, pulling away from me.
“Why?”
“I’m confused about how you can forgive me for doubting you.” She sniffs, her now-runny mascara having created a raccoon face that miraculously doesn’t detract from her natural beauty.
I wave my hand. “Water under the bridge.” And I mean that. In the face of recent events, the fight feels empty, and she’s just said she no longer doubts me. I’d rather put it all behind us just to talk to her again. I miss my friend, and I'm just happy that she's alive and well.
She squints at me. “So why didn’t you respond to my texts? Did you block me on your phone?”
“What? No! I lost my phone, man. Got no money to buy a new one yet.” I tap my empty jeans pockets and add, “And before you go bananas on why I hadn’t visited you at the hospital, well… I was a littletied upin the moment.” It’s a lame joke, but we both need the levity. “But honestly, I just couldn’t come. Either Justin or Jake was always around you, watching you twenty-four-seven like a couple of infuriating, stupidly handsome hawks. I love you, I do, but I was waiting for you to get out of there.” I decide to leave the part about Jake’s warning out.
“Well, here I am.” She grins.
“Here you are,” I parrot, answering her grin with my own.
“I’ve heard you were hospitalized, too." She's biting her lips nervously. "I wish I knew that while I was there so I could’ve visited you.”
“Don’t be silly.” I wave her off again because after three weeks of digesting the situation, it’s much easier.
“No.” She vigorously shakes her head. “Someone should have been with you when you were hurt. I feel like I’ve taken away from you with my stupid trauma. Which wasn’t even physical.” She lowers her brows. “I’m sorry.”
“Freya.” I gently touch her shoulder. “Mental struggles can be as painful as physical ones, if not more. Don’t you ever apologize for that.”
“But—”
“Lonely Kurt’s ready!” Marina strides in from the kitchen with a full plate, interrupting whatever Freya wanted to say. “Well, half of Kurt.” She smiles sheepishly. “We still haven’t gotten everything because there’s still so much to be done in the kitchen, but overall, it’s usable.” Then she adds with a cringe, “Somewhat.”
