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Coy thought of the fiery red-haired beauty behind the gift and grinned. Courtney Cairns was certainly one of a kind.

“You’ve been there a few months now. Think you’ll stay?”

“Absolutely. I mean, at least for now. Full benefits and pension.” She gestured to her latte. “Generous boss. Besides, the salary is decent, and I don’t plan to live in this shoebox forever.”

They both chuckled, and Coy glanced around at the limited space and furnishings in Tess’s annex. It was a small suite on the same property as Tess’s parents. Coy was sure it had been meant for a mancave at some point and was renovated to suit Tess. It was entirely too small for them both, especially since Abi moved back to Vancouver with, as Tess put it, a “half dozen bins of shoes”. Upgrading to something bigger would serve them both well.

Sawyer and her too-big house came to mind, because of course it did. Despite the chip on the older woman’s shoulder the size of the Grand Canyon, and the fact she didn’t like Coy, an hour didn’t go by without Coy thinking of her.

The bathroom door opening pulled Coy’s attention from where she absently tugged at a loose piece of thread on her jeans. Tess appeared before them, fresh from a shower and wearing loose-fitting drawstring pants and a blue tank top. Her blond hair still looked damp as she bent down to kiss Abi.

“Mmm, you smell delicious,” Abi gushed against Tess’s mouth. She pulled away to nuzzle her nose in the column of Tess’s throat.

A slight pang started in Coy’s chest from watching them. Their max-level cuteness often gave her the ick. At the pub, for instance, Coy had zero patience for the heart eyes Abi and Tess cast across the table at each other. However, right now, while she sat in their home—because itwastheir home now—a curious pang fluttered in Coy’s chest. Her friends looked so happy together, and questions she’d never thought before popped into her brain.

Would she one day want that? And what would she do to keep a relationship like that? What would she give up? Most importantly, would there ever be someone for Coy who was worth risking heartbreak for?

Out of nowhere, Sawyer came to mind.

“Your undercut grew in fast,” Tess remarked, surprising Coy a little when she ran her fingers over the new growth. Coy loved her top knot, disconnected undercut hairstyle, but Tess was right. The bottom required a buzz every two weeks. Her hair took more maintenance than Tegan did to look good.

“I won’t object if you wanna trim it,” Coy said and tossed Tess her best cheeky grin.

Tess considered her offer for a moment before shrugging. “Sure, why not? I don’t have anywhere else to be. Let me grab the clippers.”

“Appreciate you, barber!” Coy called as Tess disappeared into the bathroom again.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Chapter 7

Sawyer

She’d never tell asoul, but sometimes Sawyer still had nightmares about boiling hot cooking oil. The way the water from the potatoes had caused the oil to explode on the larger burner of her gas stovetop. The scalding, immediate blistering effect, and the pain … it was the kind of excruciating damage one never forgot. No matter how deep into the nightmare she was, something in her subconscious continually snapped Sawyer out of it. She’d often wake with a scream trapped in her throat as if a piece of her was still as in shock as she’d been in the moment.

When the nightmares first began, she’d started going to therapy, but it hadn’t lasted long. The third time she heard the appalling labels oftraumaandvictimspew from the doctor’s mouth, Sawyer had decided she’d had enough. A victim, she was not.

She was a fuckingsurvivor.

“… Still there?”

Sawyer blinked, dazed, aware she’d spaced out while on the phone. She was still leaning her back against her kitchen island, the pot of boiling pasta safely cooking on the stove before her. Boiling anything made her uneasy these days. She cleared her throat, cutting her friend off. “Yeah, I’m still here, Cindy,” she croaked, pushing herself off the island.

“Lori and I wanted to know if you’d come for dinner next weekend. We could have a few drinks and throw on a movie after or something.”

Patches jumped up onto the kitchen island, her whiskers twitching as she sniffed out the Parmesan cheese. Sawyer shooed her off as she replied. “If I recall, we tried that for your birthday a few weeks ago, remember? We ended up booking an Uber to take us downtown.”

Cindy laughed, not at all trying to deny it. “In my defense, I didn’t want the warehouse tickets to go to waste. Luckily for me, there is only so much begging you can stand before you cave.”

“It was rather humiliating on your part,” Sawyer scoffed, retrieving an opened bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. She poured half a wine glass worth, leaving the rest corked on the countertop. She wasn’t going out tonight. It was Sunday, her only evening off, and Sawyer had a date planned for one. It would involve a lot more wine, a bubble bath, and an episode or two ofMaster Chef. Alone. Just the way she preferred it.

Liar.

“Well, I promise dinner will be adventure-free. Just the three of us.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sawyer said.

“You better.”