“And you,” Curt said, looking out the windshield. “She left you without a word, too.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re pissed,” he corrected. “Totally justified, man. Don’t just make it about Charlie—you got a right to be pissed.”

  “Just leave it,” I replied. I wasn’t about to get into that discussion with Curt. We were on shaky ground as it was, and I didn’t want to break the fragile truce we’d come to because he said something stupid.

  “Fine,” he said.

  We rode into town in silence.

  “I’m just sayin’,” he started, the minute we pulled into the parking lot.

  “Don’t.”

  He ignored me. “You’ve been givin’ her space or whatever all year. So, what? You’re just gonna keep doin’ that? I hate to say it, brother, but grow a pair.”

  “Say what?” I snapped as I parked and Curtis immediately hopped out of the truck. I followed him out. “Did you just tell me to grow a pair?”

  Curtis shrugged, facing me across the hood. “You need to figure that shit out unless you want to be moonin’ over some chick for the rest of your life—” He lifted his hand to stop me when I opened my mouth to tell him to shut the fuck up. “—even if that chick is Kara. It’s gotta end at some point.”

  “So, I should be like you,” I said flatly. “Fuckin’ my way through every legal chick in Eugene.”

  “Did I say to fuck someone else?” Curtis asked, looking around at his non-existent audience. “I said to figure this shit out with Kara—she’s either in or she’s out, man.”

  “You worry about you,” I ordered. “I’ll worry about me.”

  “Right,” he said, giving me a thumbs up like a jackass. “Soon as you figure out how to do that, let me know.”

  I stomped toward our apartment without another word. For fuck’s sake, everyone had an opinion about me and Kara. It wasn’t surprising, they’d been discussing it since the day I got out—but it was a lot easier to deal with their comments when they were telling me that it would all work out.

  As I showered and got ready to head back over to Charlie and Kara’s apartment, I tried not to dwell on how pissed I was that Kara had taken off, but it was impossible. I couldn’t think about anything else. She’d agreed that we’d talk this morning and then she’d disappeared without a word instead. It was such a shitty thing to do to someone, especially someone you supposedly cared about.

  It wasn’t just that we’d had plans and she’d blown me off, it was the fact that we’d been having a serious conversation that she’d put a stop to with the agreement we’d continue it the next morning. She’d run. Again. And I was getting the feeling that wasn’t something that was going to change.

  Did I really want to be with someone who refused to work shit out and bailed when she wasn’t comfortable with whatever we were discussing?

  I got to Charlie’s just in time to help her and Rebel carry everything from her car into the apartment.

  “You didn’t tell me you were grocery shoppin’,” I complained as I loaded bags onto my arms. “Jesus.”

  “He’s new here,” Charlie said to Reb, making her laugh.

  “That’s just snacks,” Reb told me, following me inside with a couple of pizza boxes. “We got popcorn and seven different kinds of candy and soda and hot cocoa, just in case we got the urge, and Gatorade to keep us hydrated and—”

  “Don’t tell him all our secrets,” Charlie teased. “He’ll want it all for himself.”

  “The strawberry soda is mine,” Reb said seriously. She looked at me. “But I can share if you really want some.”

  “It’s all good,” I replied. “I’ll drink somethin’ else.”

  “Good,” she said as she started unloading the bags.

  A couple minutes later, Curtis showed up.

  “I’m sorry Draco beat you up,” Reb said with a grimace, giving him a hug. “I should have told you that earlier.”

  Curt’s offended eyes met mine. “Who told you Draco beat me up?” he asked, hugging her back tightly.

  “He confessed,” she said, her head on Curtis’ chest. “But he didn’t seem very sorry about it.”

  “Ha!” I said, laughing. “You asked if I had, you bloodthirsty little thing.”

  “Was it like a UFC fight?” Rebel asked as she pulled away from Curt. “Sometimes those guys get really hurt, but that’s not what they’re trying to do. They’re just trying to win, you know?”

  “Yeah, Reb,” Charlie said, shooting a look at me and then Curtis. “That’s exactly what it was like.”

  “You still like watching UFC fights?” I asked. She’d written to me every week while I was inside, and at least half of those letters had talked about what fights she’d seen. She could practically describe them move by move and did so regularly.

  “Oh yeah,” Reb answered. “Me and Dad buy them on TV. We usually get snacks and everything.”

  “Hell, I need to come over to your place,” Curtis said.

  “I’ll call you,” Reb said easily.

  “Okay, who’s ready to eat?” Charlie asked. “Get yo pizza and yo beer—or strawberry soda.”

  We settled in with our snacks and I smiled as Reb chose the movie. The Princess Bride. She always chose The Princess Bride. When we were little, she’d been too afraid of the big rats in the movie, but sometime around middle school, she’d started to love it. We had to have seen it at least three hundred times already. It didn’t even occur to her that we’d rather watch something else, because why would we when The Princess Bride was clearly the best movie ever?

  “I can quote this movie word for word,” Curtis told me, taking a drink of his beer.

  “Don’t,” Rebel ordered, looking over her shoulder at him. “You’ll ruin it.”

  Curtis laughed. “Fine. But I might not be able to help myself during the good parts.”

  “Try,” she said flatly, turning back toward the TV.

  “Try,” I said to him, my lips twitching. “You ingrate.”

  From then on, the movie wasn’t the entertainment. Any time Curtis even silently mouthed a line from the movie, I swear Reb knew, and she shot him a glare over her shoulder to shut him up. Every five minutes, I was holding back laughter as Reb stared over her shoulder and Curtis maintained the most innocent expression I’d ever seen. He looked back at her like he had absolutely no idea why she kept looking at him, and not only that, he was hurt that she would even imagine he’d do such a thing. By the time the end credits were rolling, Reb was seated between us on the couch so she could make sure that Curtis kept his mouth shut.

  “Should we watch another one?” Reb asked quietly, glancing over at Charlie, who’d fallen asleep on the floor.

  “As you wish,” Curtis said, laughing when Reb’s head snapped to the side to look at him.

  “You can pick the next one,” Reb told me, turning her back completely on Curtis. “Just nothing scary, okay?”

  “Of course not,” I replied. I grabbed the remote and started searching for something else.

  “Aw, Buttercup,” Curtis said, hugging Rebel from behind, his arms pinning hers to her sides. “Don’t be mad at me!”

  “I’m not mad at you,” she said stiffly.

  “You sound mad.”

  “I’m peeved,” she corrected. “That’s not the same as mad. Peeved is more like irritated.”

  “Don’t be irritated at me either,” Curtis said, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “I don’t like it when my favorite girl is irritated with me.”

  “I’m a woman, thank you very much,” she said, squirming to get away.

  “Okay, you’re my favorite woman, then,” he said, letting her go. “But don’t tell my mom, or she’ll be peeved.”

  “You need a girlfriend,” Rebel said with a huff, leaning back against the couch. “I’m spoken for.”

  “Say what?” I said, turning my head to look at her. “You’re spoken for?”

  “I have a boyfriend,” she replied proudly.

  “What’s his name?” Curtis asked, his expression losing the bit of teasing it held.

  “Wesley,” Rebel replied.

  “Wesley?” Curtis asked incredulously, relaxing.

  “Yes,” Rebel said in exasperation. “But he likes to be called Wes, so don’t say Wesley. Only I can use that name.”

  “Wait, this guy is real?” Curtis blurted.

  I didn’t have to see Reb’s face to know that he’d just dealt a pretty hefty blow. Her shoulders slumped.

  “Fuck, Reb,” he said, backpedaling. “I know he’s real. I just—have your parents met this guy?”

  “Yeah, they met him,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning a little bit toward my side of the couch. “He comes over and he took me to dinner four times. And he’s helped my dad work on his bike and I taught him how to change the oil in his car.”

  “Whoa,” I said, bumping her with my elbow. “Sounds pretty serious.”

  “I’m too young for anything serious,” she said, sending me a small smile. “But he’s nice.”

  “He sounds nice,” I said softly. “What’s he look like?”

  “He has red hair,” she replied. “And brown eyes like me. And he’s taller than me but he’s shorter than you. And he wears jeans a lot. He likes t-shirts but he said t-shirts are causal attire only, so he wears shirts that button down the front when he takes me to dinner.”

  “Good man,” I replied.

  “And he has a dimple, right here,” she pointed to her cheek. “Only on one side. You can see it when he smiles and when he presses his lips together when he’s mad.”

  “He get mad a lot?”

  “No, he smiles a lot,” she replied, grinning. “He only gets mad when other drivers don’t follow the rules of the road because it’s unsafe.”

  “I’m likin’ the sound of this guy,” I said. “And your parents like him?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly. “They like him.”

  “That’s awesome, Reb,” I said, loving the way she lit up as she talked about him. I realized then that I hadn’t been present for her like I should’ve been. The fact that I didn’t even know about this guy was proof of that.

  “Where’d you meet him?” Curtis asked, trying to hide his suspicion under a smile.

  “At work,” Reb said with an annoyed sigh. “He’s a cook.”

  “Hey,” he said, frowning. “You can’t expect me to not be protective when I haven’t even met the guy.”

  “Maybe next time you can invite him over for a movie night,” I said, shooting Curt a look to cool it.

  “Okay,” Reb replied. “But you’ll have to pick him up because he doesn’t drive after dark.”

  “I can do that,” I agreed.

  “Have you picked which movie you want to watch?” she asked, glancing at the TV.

  “Not yet,” I replied, going back to it.

  “It’s too bad Kara isn’t here,” Reb said as I scrolled through the options. “She’s good at picking movies.”

  I didn’t respond. It was too bad. She should’ve been there with us, hanging out like old times. I realized that it had been just this way since I’d gotten out of prison. If the group was all together, there was always a reason that Kara bowed out. She had to go to her parents’ house, she was too tired, she had other plans, but she never had time to spend with us. I knew that she, Charlie and Reb had spent plenty of time together, but whenever Curt and I were there, she wasn’t.

  I’d given her excuses before, knowing that she was dodging me for some reason and we’d eventually figure it out, but I couldn’t find an excuse for her this time. She’d bailed at exactly the wrong moment.

  As I started another movie and the three of us relaxed into the couch, I knew that whatever Kara’s problem was—I couldn’t let it be mine anymore. I’d given her nothing but support and acceptance and honest to God adoration for years—and I hadn’t gotten that shit back. Enough was enough. Curtis was right, it was time I grew a pair.

  Oddly, I felt lighter after I’d made the decision.

  Chapter 15

  Kara

  “Are you sure you don’t want to ride back with us?” Nana asked as we pulled up outside the airport. “It’ll only take a couple more days.”

  “I’m sure,” I replied, leaning forward to hug her over the seat. “Now that the fires are mostly contained, I need to get back to work.”

  “You need money?” Grandpa asked gruffly.

  “Keep your money, old man,” I said with a laugh, leaning over to give him a hug, too. “I do alright when I’m actually working—especially with tips.”

  “It’s not one of those bikini coffee shops, is it?” he asked suspiciously.

  “What the hell do you know about bikini coffee shops?” Nana asked, smacking him with the back of her hand.

  Grandpa sputtered.

  “I’ll see you guys in a couple of days,” I said. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too, honey,” Nana replied. “You call when you get home.”

  “I will,” I promised as I hopped out of the truck.

  I waved, walking backward a few steps, and then turned and headed inside. The airport wasn’t super busy, and I made my way through security quickly, which left me with another hour before my flight. I wasn’t happy about it.

  I’d spent the last six days doing anything and everything to not have extra time on my hands. The second I slowed down, thoughts of Draco filled my mind. I missed him. I missed him more than I thought I would.

  After all the years of him being gone, I thought I would’ve been used to being away from him, but I wasn’t. Even when I’d been avoiding him as much as possible, I’d still known that he was close, just minutes away, if I needed him.

  Plopping down onto a seat near my gate, I pulled out my phone. For being gone almost a week, I had a pretty pathetic amount of messages. Two from Charlie, a few from both my parents, a couple from my boss letting me know they were opening the coffee cart back up, and only one from Draco.

  I hadn’t turned my phone on during the first few days I’d been away, preferring to stay completely disconnected while I tried to figure out what I was going to do. I’d expected to have a whole slew of messages when I’d finally turned it on, but I didn’t. After the first message he’d sent the day I flew to Montana, it had been radio silence. I wasn’t sure how to interpret that.

  All I knew was that I was probably walking back into a complete shit show. I wasn’t sure that I was ready to get into another argument with Draco while I was still reeling from the last one, but I knew he deserved more answers than I’d given him. Nana had told me I needed to just lay it all out on the table, what I was afraid of, what I needed from him, and what I was capable of giving. At first, I’d argued, but eventually, I’d realized that she was right.

  Nothing between Draco and I would work if both of us were going into things blindly. Love only took a person so far.

  I held my thumbs over the keypad, arguing with myself over whether or not I should text him back before I was home. After I’d left without a word like a coward, texting him seemed equally as cowardly. I texted Charlie instead.

  On my way home. Looks like the shop is open again?

  Less than a minute later, she texted me back.

  Yeah. Worked a shift this morning. Air is clearing up a little so it was busy as hell. You need me to pick you up from the airport?

  I smiled a little at her response. She’d answered like the fight between us had never happened. I was more than a little relieved.

  I left my car in long-term parking, but thanks. I’ll be home around 4.

  My phone rang just as Charlie sent a thumbs-up.

  “Hello?” I answered, watching a family struggle by with three kids and about ten bags.

  “Hey, kiddo,” my dad replied. “You on your way yet?”

  “Yep. I’m at the airport,” I said, grinning at a toddler staring at me, her thumb in her mouth, while her mom struggled to keep her walking forward. “But I’m guessing you talked to Nana and already knew that.”

  “Guilty,” he said. “She called when they dropped you off.”

  “I figured she would,” I replied. “Did she tell you her and Grandpa are packing up and heading back home?”

  “Yeah, she said she’d be there in a few days. She was hoping you’d just drive back with them.”

  “I thought about it,” I said. “But I already had the ticket—”

  “And you didn’t want to listen to them bitch about each other’s driving for the next two days?” he asked jokingly.

  “Pretty much,” I confessed. “How are things back there?”

  “They’re alright,” he said with a sigh. I could picture him settling in somewhere, his feet crossed at the ankles while we talked. “The club came through unscathed, so we’re back at work.”

  “The coffee shop is back open, too,” I replied. “So it’s back to the daily grind for me tomorrow.”

  “Daily grind,” he snickered. “Nice.”

  “You like that?” I asked, smiling.

  “Well done,” he said with mock seriousness. Then his tone changed. “You and me need to talk when you get home.”

  My smile disappeared. “Grandpa,” I muttered.

  “You know they can’t keep secrets for shit,” my dad replied. “Which is why, I’m guessin’, you told them.”

  “I hadn’t thought that much about it.”

  “You’ve been keepin’ secrets for a long ass time, princess,” he said. “Time to fess up.”

  “There’s a difference between handling things on my own and keeping them a secret,” I argued.

  “In this case,” he replied, “no, there isn’t. We knew somethin’ was goin’ on with you and we asked you about it—repeatedly—and you told us shit was fine.”

  “I was handling it,” I said.

  “You shouldn’t have had to,” he shot back. He let out an audible breath. “We can discuss all this once you’re home.”

  “Looking forward to it,” I replied sarcastically.

  “Don’t be shitty with me,” he warned. “I haven’t done shit except support you the only way you’d fuckin’ let me—”