“Right. Weirdness.” A rueful expression passed over his face, and then he turned and headed out without looking back.
She stared at the place he’d vacated for a long moment, his presence still lingering like a quiet mist. Her shoulders sagged, and she trudged to the back door to lock the new lock. She tapped her head against the doorjamb a few times.
Well, she’d wanted him to leave. She’d accomplished that with epic awkwardness. No more worrying about getting wrapped up in something or someone she shouldn’t.
She leaned against the door and pressed her fingers to her tingling lips, a hard kick of longing going through her.
Longing? No. Wesley Garrett was not someone to long for. Not only did he have a checkered history, but if he’d known who she was, he never would’ve requested more conversation or…kissed her back.
This was for the best. Obviously.
So why did she suddenly feel like she’d lost something?
chapter
SEVEN
Rebecca slid into the booth in the bustling Broken Yolk restaurant, earning the surprised gazes of her three friends. “Sorry I’m late. It’s been a morning. And I couldn’t call because I had to get a new phone. Long story.”
Kincaid shifted over along the bench seat to make room, her blond ponytail swinging. “Rebecca Lindt is fifteen minutes late for Bitching Brunch. I was starting to worry the apocalypse was nigh.” She flagged the waiter down. “Sugar, can you get my friend a mimosa? I’m guessing she needs one. Or two.”
The young guy smiled a smile that Kincaid seemed to inspire in every male with her Southern belle accent and long-lashed beauty-queen looks. “Right away, ma’am.”
“Thanks,” Rebecca said, tucking her purse between her and Kincaid and sending a smile to her other two friends, Liv and Taryn, who were sitting on the other side. “I may need three. And lots of pancakes.”
And these women. Which was a new concept for Rebecca. Up until a few months ago, she’d lost touch with these three ladies, former classmates from Long Acre High. Rebecca had thought moving on from the tragedy in high school meant leaving everything and everyone having to do with it behind, but when they’d all come back together for a documentary about the school shooting, they’d reconnected.
Based on what they were in high school, they would’ve been an unlikely crew. Olivia the artsy, goth Latina who was too cool to care what anyone thought. Kincaid, the dance team captain who was on top of the popularity food chain. Taryn, the quiet but dedicated student and athlete. And then Rebecca, obsessed with grades and student government and anything that earned her a gold star and made her look good to her dad and colleges.
They hadn’t been friends until after the shooting, when they’d ended up together in a support group, and then they’d lost touch for over a decade. But now Rebecca realized how much she needed these women and was thankful to have them back in her life. Women who knew her before. Women who understood exactly how hard it was to move on when something that traumatic defined your past. Now, even though they were all busy with their own careers, they’d made a promise to get together regularly and to be there for each other. The Bitching Brunch was one version of that.
Liv, whose
black hair was pulled into a messy bun atop her head, glanced at the bandages on Rebecca’s arms and frowned. “Whoa. What happened, Bec?”
It was on the tip of Rebecca’s tongue to say she’d fallen and leave it at that. After years of saying she was all right after the shooting, putting on a brave face and pretending she wasn’t a complete disaster inside, she had a tendency to default to that response. Move along. Nothing to see here. But she took a breath and dragged the automatic response back. She didn’t have to fake it with her friends. “I was mugged Friday night on the way home from work. I got knocked down onto the pavement.”
Taryn’s brown eyes went wide behind her plastic pink-rimmed glasses. “Oh my God, girl. Are you okay?”
Liv and Kincaid had matching expressions of horror on their faces.
“I’m all right,” Rebecca said tiredly. “It could’ve been a lot worse. They got away with my purse and phone. But they…had a gun.”
Her voice caught on the last part, and Kincaid pressed her hand to her chest, her bangle bracelets jangling. “Oh, honey.”
“Jesus,” Liv said, reaching across the table and giving Rebecca’s hand a squeeze. “I would’ve freaking lost it.”
She and Liv shared that phobia. Liv hadn’t been shot on prom night like Rebecca had, but she’d had a gun pointed at her face. She’d had that moment where she knew she would die. That imprinted on a psyche. Rebecca would know.
She squeezed Liv’s hand back and sighed. “It all sucked, but I’m okay beyond a few scrapes. This big dog came to my rescue and went after the one who had the gun. But the guy shot the dog in the leg.”
“They shot the dog?” Taryn asked, horrified.
“There’s a special place in hell for people like that,” Kincaid said before taking a long sip of her mimosa, her eyes full of concern.
The waiter brought Rebecca two drinks, and she quickly ordered a plate of banana pancakes.
“So is the dog okay?” Liv asked, sitting back in the booth and sweeping her bangs away from her eyes. “Did the guys get caught?”