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“Any time. Now, speaking of ways to handle our shit, let me grab some alcohol and get to the bottom of this.”

I didn’t even argue when she came back a few minutes later with a bottle of wine for each of us—sans glasses—and a bottle of tequila.

“I feel like this is turning into some tradition,” she said, scowling at the alcohol on the table and back to the crying woman on her couch. “I’d like to skip it, please. No crying over guys for me, thank you very much. But I am always up for a night of drinking straight from the bottle.”

“I’ll keep the vodka on hand,” I promised, deciding against the tequila and sticking to wine. “Speaking of, how’s your boyfriend?”

She stiffened for half a second before shaking her head. “Oh, no, Miss Nova. This is about you.”

“It was worth a shot.” I shrugged, lifting the bottle.

I took a long swig, the dry berry flavor washing away the salt from my tears. If only it could wash away the exhausted hurt wrapping around every muscle and bone in my body. I was exhausted, finally ready to lay it all out there and ask someone to help me carry this load weighing me down.

A soft knock had Rae back off the couch. I knew who it would be before she even opened the door. We were a tripod—we worked better with all of us together.

Vera entered, coming over to the living room all sleek, composed, and calm.

My mind flashed to when I came barging in almost six months ago to find her in the same situation I was in now—crying on Rae’s couch, clutching a bottle of wine. I’d been anything but composed.

“What? No trying to break down the door like She-Ra?” I asked with a soggy laugh.

She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Nah. I know how dramatic Rae can be with her messages. Besides,” her eyes locked on me, and I saw the focused businesswoman who matched her husband’s force. I leaned back, bracing myself. “I’m saving my energy for you.”

“Oh, damn,” Rae muttered. “Mom is mad at you.”

I glared at Rae, but she just smirked, passing a bottle of wine to Vera before plopping down on the chair beside the couch. She pulled both legs up in criss-cross apple sauce and leaned in like she couldn’t wait for story-time.

Vera took her time setting her purse and coat aside before sitting down beside me. “Now, explain why the hell you couldn’t respond to a message after we discovered your past from the media of all places. If you’re going to fall off the face of the earth, at least send us a message to let us know you’re alive.”

Damn. She did reprimand me like a mom. But then she drank straight from her bottle, bringing the image of the woman in pearls scolding me together with my best friend.

“I know,” I sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? About before?” she asked gently.

“I-I—” I stuttered and winced, swallowing to try again. “I never talk about it. It’s the reason I don’t talk about knowing Parker, because usually with that story comes the other, and I just avoid it.”

“Fair enough,” Rae chimed in. “Sounds like it was a fucking shitshow.”

“And we know Rae avoids talking shitshows at all cost.”

Rae mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key before turning more serious. “You don’t ever have to talk about it. We all have things we hold close to our chest that we don’t want to talk about.” She shrugged before looking away for another drink.

Rae appeared as the perfect, fun, socialite, but a lot brewed beneath the surface. She hid it well, but this was an instance we got to see more than she probably wanted.

“The point is,” Vera added, “that we want you to know that you can come to us if you just want to talk about anything.”

“I know that,” I said, adding more sincerely. “I know that. I really do. You guys are my best friends, and I love you. It was just nice to go to college and be far, far away from the girl who was taken. And as time went on, I just never talked about it, and I convinced myself that I didn’t need to.”

“It’s not like we had a lot of conversations where you could bring up that one time you were kidnapped,” Rae muttered.

I snorted, and wine spewed from my lips which only served to make me laugh more. Then all three of us were laughing until I cried again just because it felt good to feel my chest shake and rumble with happiness. But when you opened the gate to one emotion, others followed.

“Nova,” Vera cooed, pulling me into her arms.

Rae reached across to hold my hand.

“I fucked up, you guys. I fucked up with Parker.”


Tags: Fiona Cole Romance