Page 4 of Afterglow (Ottawa Regents #3)

My friend reclines on the sectional and soundlessly places a palm on her forehead while staring off into the ceiling. “This is called ‘traveling internationally with a one-year-old to celebrate your baby sister’s wedding?—”

Oh yeah, Esha’s getting married this summer.

“But your parents are so obsessed with their first grandchild that they want to throw her another over-the-top birthday party in India while all the family is together.”

Reason #549 why I shouldn’t have children. I can’t even remember to pack my own toothbrush, much less anything and everything required for an entire human who is entirely dependent on you for survival.

“So…much…stuff.” My eyes scan the room.

“We’re leaving in two days, and I’m terrified we’ll leave something behind.”

“I’m sure you can find anything you want there.”

She lets out a heavy breath through her nose. “You’re right.”

It’d be the first time.

“India has everything now, right? That’s what I’m told, anyway.”

Her eyebrow perks. “You should go sometime. It’s so different than when I was a kid.”

“Maybe one day.”

It’s weird being a third-culture kid and having almost no ties to your ancestral home. I imagine that’s how the old generations of many Indian Parsis felt. Tanzania and Muscat felt more like home than Mumbai.

“How’s your family, by the way? Are Sano Aunty, Barjor Uncle doing good now that your brother’s with them?”

“Oh, yeah. They love having him there. They’re living their best lives.”

I’ve done an excellent job hiding the bitterness in my tone, because she seems to miss it. They’re having a grand ol’ time without me. Without their problem child.

“Very nice.”

“Anyway, where’s my little bacchu? I wanna squish her chunky cheeks.”

“Landon’s giving her a bath before bedtime.” Her hand slides to cover her face. “You can squeeze her cheeks tomorrow. It’s witching hour, and she’ll shriek like a banshee if we screw up the routine. God , I’m so tired.”

Oh, right. That’s why I came over.

“I should go shower, too.”

“You know where to go.”

I feel bad for asking, but I don’t wanna go home.

“Would it be okay for me to stay the night?”

Indi peeks through her fingers. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Everything is not even close to being okay. But I can’t seem to tell her that what we thought was a learning disability is actually full-fledged ADHD, and that I’m getting kicked out of the apartment they helped me move into three months ago.

“My roommate—” is all I can manage.

“Is she being an asshole?”

Yes, but I can’t tell Indi about their ultimatum either.

She’d call Gabe, and they’d go fight Zoe in the alley or something.

Those two are fiercely protective of their loved ones.

And they can be scary. Maybe it’s their height.

Every short girl needs a tall best friend and vice versa.

I’m not above stabbing their enemies. I guess I’m protective of them, too.

They’ve been through so much these past few years. And they don’t need me to burden them with my problems. They have grown-up lives, partners, and families to worry about.

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just…her boyfriend is staying over tonight, and?—”

I can’t get myself to tell her everything.

“And you don’t wanna hear ‘em bang?”

That, too. Now I don’t have to lie so much.

“Yeah.” I laugh nervously. “It’s gross.”

She frowns. “Well, you can stay as long as you want. We leave in two days, but you know you’re welcome to stay here anytime, Bea.” Her free hand finds mine and squeezes before letting go. “You’re family.”

My heart clenches. I fight back fat, hot tears until they can be drowned out by the whir of the fan and cascade of their fancy rainfall shower head.

I feel a little better after the hot shower and a good cry.

Weak, lamenting moans trickle into the guest room from beneath the door. I’m not about to walk in on my best friend having private adult time, but I can’t help but poke my head out and peek down the hallway.

Nope, nothing there.

The noises get louder as I near the living room.

I spot Landon with both hands palming his head. He groans and rubs his face.

Indi stands facing him, arms crossed.

“What happened?”

She finally notices me. “No big deal, just my husband being reckless and juvenile.”

“Baby,” he whines.

“Don’t ‘ baby ’ me, Radek.”

I gasp. She used his maiden name. He winces.

“Apparently, the boys don’t play poker during the season to avoid losing too much money. But now, since they’re out of the playoffs, they thought it’d be a good idea to gamble their sadness away.”

Who can blame them? They kinda blew it this year. And last year.

“And they knew— they knew!— Fletcher would clean them out and wipe the floor with ‘em.”

Fletcher?

Fuck me, Fletcher Donovan.

In my dreams, he does.

Just the sound of his name has me tensing, sexually. Physically, there’s a tear rolling down my thigh.

The man is perfection. You know when you see someone so hot, you can tell they smell good?

Yeah, that’s Fletcher Donovan. And I know for a fact he does.

God, he smells incredible. I once caught a whiff of him when I passed by him in the family waiting area of a birthing center where Indi had Akhila, and it altered my brain chemistry.

I can’t pinpoint exactly what he smells like, but it’s that fresh out of the shower, soapy clean.

They say God doesn’t choose favorites, but that’s a lie, because Fletcher exists.

I wanna lick those beautiful freckles off his beautiful face. And those meaty, toned arms. I’d apply to be his hockey helmet only to tug his pretty red hair and take a ride on his face all damn day. And his voice? I wanna drink it down like Ursula from The Little Mermaid.

Alright, get it together, Bea. The man has you going full-Disney villain and getting all riled up with no plan in place for relief. Good thing no one can read my mind. It’s filthy in here.

“He doesn’t have a tell! What are we supposed to do?” Landon argues.

Her hands fly up. “Quit playing poker with him, god damn it!” His hmph ends in a pout and crossed arms like a petulant child. “Stick to the sport, okay, hockey boy?”

“Fine,” he mumbles and holds out his hands, grabbing for her. “Do I still get cuddles?”

Knife, meet back.

I am so fucking single.

Indi rolls her eyes and tilts her head to the right. “Get in the bedroom.”

I clap my hands together. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

The joke doesn’t land as well as expected, and I back up, retreating to my room for the night. I’m lucky they didn’t boo or throw tomatoes.

I let the bed swathe me, burrowing into the luxurious sheets and fluffy comforter like a warm hug.

You’re family , she said. Worst comes to worst, at least I know I can crash here temporarily. But it won’t come to that. I try affirmations and flood my thoughts with positivity.

I can do this.

Something has to work out.