“Marina, I told you, everything you need is on my tab,” Freya promises, looking guilty. I hate that she clearly thinks she needs to pay for everything to make up for what her ex did. She’s not responsible for his actions, but she insisted Marina accept her paying for the repairs. Marina’s too proud for that, but she accepted it on the condition that it be a loan—though I know Freya will never take repayment. Although I’m happy Marina will save some money, I also want Freya to stop trying to buy everyone’s forgiveness for things her piece of shit of an ex did. No one blames her. And even though everyone is grateful for her attempts to right the wrongs he did, she doesn’t have to buy everyone’s love. I wish she could see that she’d be loved without a cent to her name here in Little Hope.
“We can take care of this place, don’t you worry," Marina insists with a broad, proud smile. "Now, you girls have fun. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Freya follows Marina’s retreat, sounding devastated as she tells me quietly, “God, I just feel so bad.”
“Don’t be,” I assure her. “Really. This place has needed a do-over for years. It was perfect timing. We should be thanking you.” I offer her a sincere smile, hoping she believes me—it’s the truth, but the guilt in her eyes kills me.
She sniffles again. “And I’m sorry for what he did to you.”
“No sweat,” I say with a dismissive wave, though I can’t help but cringe internally. I still have nightmares of flames crawling closer to lick at my skin, but I’m not going to agonize her further by sharing that. She looks miserable, on the verge of tears yet again. “Alex isn’t back?” She shakes her head with downcast eyes and wipes at her red-tipped nose. “Do you know where he is?” I ask, even though I could assume the answer—if Freya knew, she’d be there dragging his ass back here kicking and screaming.
“No.” She bites her lip, her hands rubbing at her neck. “Only Justin does, but he won’t tell anybody.”
At the mention of his name, my jaw sets, but I refrain from sharing my opinion of him. Though it might have slightly shifted after his help—twice—it’s still decidedly negative, and I’ve seen Freya and Justin around town together and know for a fact they’ve grown even closer. He became the friend she needed when I wasn’t there. To be completely honest, I wouldn’t have known what she needed from me or how I could deliver it.
I’d still been offended by Freya’s accusation then—it had felt like a knife to my back. I had told her numerous times that I didn’t know how I wronged Justin or Jake, and I still don’t—even despite my attempts at asking either of them. They both snarl and shut me down, accusing me of being a liar. I never bothered asking Alicia, their sister, because she was never on good terms with me even before. She was always a part of the popular crowd, just as Justin was, just a bit younger. And even now, here and there, I see Alicia surrounded by the mean girls of Little Hope. Mainly Ashley, who I’d consider Justin’s most consistent bedbug. Though I must admit—Alicia never looks to be participating much in their conversations.
If I hadn’t undergone my own attack, I know I would’ve found a way to Freya sooner and ignored the Jake-shaped obstacle in my way, but I was licking my own wounds and feeling sorry for myself. While my concussed ass couldn’t walk without puking for days following my heroic rescue by my disinclined rescuer, only Marina and Mark were there for me—the latter of whom surprised the hell out of me. He’s stopped by the diner twice since then to ask if I’m alright, if there was anything I needed, and if I needed to talk. He seemed a tad bit uncomfortable doing so because he’s a tough guy who seems a little shy of emotional women—which I was guilty of being—but it was one of the sweetest things anybody has ever done for me.
To be completely honest, Marina’s reaction surprised me, too. She’s been doting on me like a mother hen on her egg, which is entirely out of character for her. She didn't let me do anything more strenuous than chopping carrots till I showed her a note from my doctor saying I’m cleared to wipe my own ass and everything now. I shed a few tears upon what felt like the fiftieth time she offered me chicken broth. I think we both did. I’ve been shedding a lot of tears lately, really—and Marina and Mark have both seen my puffy eyes, and neither have judged me for them.
“I’m sorry, Kayla.” Freya brings me back to our little diner, roused from my bittersweet thoughts.
“Stop apologizing, Freya,” I soothe.
“No, I need to for all the shit you’ve been through because of me and my crap—”
She’s going to make us both start bawling again. “Frey—”
“No,” she cuts in, shaking her head. “I need to say it. Erik was an asshole, and I don’t regret what happened to him. But I hate what he did to you. And I regret the things I said on that call. I was riled up—not that that’s any excuse. I don’t know what came over me, but I don’t really believe that. I don’t think you could have done anything to make anybody hate you so much. I know that.” Her eyes are glassy, her lower lip quaking, and yep, we’re both about to start the waterworks again. “I’ll try to talk to Justin. Maybe he’ll tell me. All I know is he truly believes it.”
I shrug helplessly. “I hope you have better luck than me. But for God’s sake, stop apologizing for your ex—he’s wasted enough of your time. I hope it doesn’t make me sound callous, and I don’t know all the details of what happened, but I think he got what he deserved that night.” Hell with details, I don’t even know the major events of that night. The rumor mill has changed its mind on the facts more times than I could keep track of, so I stopped trying.
With wide eyes, Freya tells me everything that went down that night, and my eyebrows soon disappear into my hairline without any hope of reemerging. Jake shot Erik to save Freya, I find out, from long-range; that I didn’t see coming, considering the whole town knows he failed his assessment at the shooting range recently—not long before that night, actually. I wonder to myself if it was his first kill—it feels so strange and dystopian even to say that—though I’d bet with how little crime there is in Little Hope and how short a time he’s been on the force, relatively, he’s never faced the need to before. In any case, I imagine it leaves an imprint on a person’s mind. And is Jake really such a good shot? I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with that new piece of information.
Like Freya said before, Alex disappeared that night as well, and although Justin knows where he is, he isn’t sharing it with the class. That’s some strong loyalty there. I don’t imagine it’s easy to keep it from Freya, seeing her suffering. Alex better be suffering, wherever he is, or I’ll smack him stupid with our new, cute mugs.
Then I tell Freya my side of the story, and it’sherturn forhereyebrows to disappear into her hairline. When I’m done, she jumps from the stool and envelopes me in a hug once again. “I’m sorry, Kayla!”
I try to pry her off me, but she doesn’t let go. “You need to chill, Freya. Really. This was a good thing, so don’t worry.”
“How so?” she asks, finally pulling away from me. I never was hugged much as a kid, and probably even less once I became an adult, so I’m a little uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of such strong affection.
I pointedly look around. There are new, stylish tables with matching stools, cute chairs here and there, new pictures on the walls, new curtains, and new decorations Marina and I picked out together everywhere. And everything matches. The dishes and silverware are new too, very modern and shiny. The walls are painted dark beige—the best thing we could possibly do for the diner and my poor eyes, since I always hated those weird, hospital-like green walls that Marina was so fond of. The only thing I’d add is a nice mural on the wall—that would be sick. “This place needed a makeover, and Marina would never have agreed to that unless she didn’t have a choice. So, thankyou—you saved my sanity.” Her eyes are misty again by the time I finish. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
She begins laughing, wiping away her tears. “So, we’re good?”
I gently punch her shoulder. “We’re good.”
“Thank God. Now I’m getting you a new phone,” she chirps, clapping her hands.
“No way!”
"Yes way; I have one extra already that I don't use. It's just lying in a drawer. You can have it." She shrugs.
I squint at her, fully aware that it’s a ploy to give me a new phone. She knows I don’t like handouts, so she lets me preserve my pride. I appreciate it. “Until I buy a new one,” I reason stubbornly.
“Of course!” she agrees too soon, and I sigh as she cracks a smile.
