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“Then I left and you came with me,” I finish sadly. “Why didn’t you stay? And give it a try with him?”
“It was never an option,” she says simply. “You’re my ride or die, Het. Always have been.”
“But Spencer…”
Abigail smiles but I can see the touch of sadness in her eyes. She’s given up so much for me, and for what? “There was no choice. I will always pick your friendship.”
“I wish I’d known. I wouldn’t have let you come.”
“Like I would ever pick a man over you! And I wouldn’t have wanted anything different. I’ve been really happy in Victoria,” she assures me. “I like our life there.”
“So do I, but…”
“But this is home.”
And the way Abigail says it, I know it’s true for both of us. British Columbia may be beautiful, and living in Canada has been great, but Laandia is our home, whether we want it to be or not.
“I never thought I’d miss it,” I admit. “Leaving was so easy—well, not leaving Bo, but the rest of it. Leaving my family—”
“You are not your family,” she says sternly, just like every other time she’s told me that.
“I know, but it’s hard…”
“And anyone who knows you would never include you in their judgement of them. Which no one should do anyway.”
“But people do.”
“People do,” she says with resignation. “And that’s not fair to you.”
We share a look of sadness. Abigail has witnessed first-hand what the people of Laandia think about my family. About me. And about her too—being my best friend has tarred Abigail with the same brush at times.
It’s not fair. None of this is fair.
“Have you talked to Timothy?” she asks to change the subject.
“Last night.” I wave my phone at her. “He says he’s giving me space, but there’s not a lot of texts from him. And he hasn’t sent anything today. He doesn’t say anything, but I don’t think he’s happy that Bo wants us to stay here.”
Abigail snorts. “Not surprising.”
There’s something in her tone, something I’ve heard but never wanted to ask about. “Do you… do you even like Timothy?” It’s something I’ve been wanting to ask her for a while, but it seemed too awkward in Victoria. Here, with the distance between me and the man I love—
Is Timothy the man I love?
“Of course I like him,” Abigail says quickly. Too quickly. “He’s kind and decent, and he’ll make a great father figure for Tema. There’s nothing not to like about Timothy.”
“But…”
“But…” She chews on her lip and I know there’s more.
“Be honest,” I remind her. “That’s what we do. Except for you keeping Spencer a secret from me.”
“There was nothing to tell,” she protests. “And yes, I like Timothy—but honestly, Het, I don’t much likeyouwhen you’re with him.”
“Oh.” I stare into the fire, because what do you say when you’re best friend tells you something like that?
“It’s nothing big,” she assures me, grabbing my hand. “And I still love you. It’s not like you turn into a mean person when you’re with him, but you’re not… There’s something missing. You’re not you. You’re some version that you think is what Timothy wants. Have you ever really told him what you want?”
“I don’t know what I want,” I say helplessly. “I want a good life for Tema. I want my brothers to stay out of jail. I want Mabel to be happy.”