Daisy spent years hating herself because of what Sloan—no, what Francesca and Gwen did to her. She hated school, and if it weren’t for Petra, she wouldn’t have gone to school at all. As it was, she missed more days than what was technically allowed so that she could avoid running into the two wenches. She slipped through the cracks and somehow never got in trouble for it. Though perhaps that was more indicative of how the community saw her—not worthy of concern. She took matters into her own hands and would talk to the teachers to get whatever work she missed to still pass. But no one other than Petra seemed to care.
Then everything went down with her parents, and she was placed with a foster family, who also didn’t seem to care. Her parents told her so many lies that she now has trouble trusting what people tell her. Everything everyone says to her goes through her lie-detector lens as she assesses it for holes. It’s exhausting going through the world, always on edge, never knowing if someone is being honest or if the rug will be pulled out from under her at some point.
She rolls onto her side, allowing her thoughts to continue to wander. As her thoughts shift to the last fight with Sloan, she finds her eyes getting tired and closes them. Before long, she drifts off, dreaming of the most luscious lips she has had the pleasure of tasting.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
She wakes, groggy and bleary-eyed, trying to figure out where the annoying pecking sound is coming from. Realizing it’s her front door, she pushes herself out of bed and stumbles to answer it.
“What!” she barks as she opens the door.
“Sorry! Is this an okay time?”
“Stella,” Daisy says, realizing who stands before her. “No, I’m sorry. I was sleeping. Come on in.” She moves to the side, allowing Stella to enter.
“Oh. I can go if you want to go back to bed.”
“No, no. It’s okay. Do you want a drink?”
“Sure,” Stella answers, following Daisy through her home to the kitchen, where Daisy takes down two martini glasses, vermouth, vodka, and olives. She shakes the liquid ingredients together and then pours an equal amount into each glass. She tops them with two olives and hands one to Stella as she takes a sip of her own.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. So what brings you by?”
“I was in the area and wanted to check on you. The last time I saw you, you were in a, well, similar but different state,” Stella answers, sipping her drink and sitting at a chair at the kitchen table.
“Yeah, I was going through a rough patch. Or I still am going through a rough patch.”
“That’s what I gathered.”
“I appreciate you checking in. You don’t need to, especially since we aren’t together anymore. And haven’t been for a while,” Daisy says, taking another sip and settling in at a chair beside Stella.
Stella leans in, making sure she has Daisy’s full attention. “Daisy, we may not be together, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. We didn’t work as a couple, but I would like to think we are still friends, and I care about your well-being. When you called me that night a couple of weeks ago, I dropped everything to come to you because I was worried.”
Daisy feels heat rise to her cheeks. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you were okay. It’s okay to need help sometimes, you know.”
“So I hear.”
Stella reaches forward, lifting Daisy’s chin so she looks at her. “It’s also okay to let people care about you. To let them support you. I can be one of those people if you let me. As a friend, that is.” Stella smiles. “Friends are great safety nets.”
Daisy smiles back. She tries to silence the inner voice telling her that Stella has to be lying. And a part of her hates that Stella has a point. Friends are meant to be there to support and help in times of need, and that was exactly what Stella did when Daisy called for assistance. As she looks at Stella, seeing her comforting gaze returning back to her, Daisy realizes that, yes, she can be friends with her. Maybe it’s possible for relationships to shift and for people to remain in her life.
“So, tell me, as a friend, what has been going on. Give me the tea.”
Daisy laughs. “The tea? Really?”
“Yeah, it’s the cool thing to say. Or was. I don’t know. It’s hard to keep up these days.”
“Alright, alright. But we are going to need another drink first,” Daisy says, rising from the table.
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Stella responds, rubbing her hands together with an eager grin.
“You have no idea,” Daisy mutters under her breath.
CHAPTER 26
