Page 25

CHAPTER 24

“Well, hello, stranger,” Brogan says with a teasing smile as I slip into the seat across from her outside of Clara’s Cafe.

The warm sun hits my cheek and it feels nice after the gloomy couple days we’ve had. Maybe it’s a sign that things are finally looking up.

I smile, flinging my purse off my shoulder and draping it over the back of the chair. “Sorry I’m late. After you left this morning, I crashed again. Lately, I just feel like I could sleep for days.”

Brogan chuckles, stirring the iced latte in front of her. “You have been busy.” She raises an eyebrow. “Though I’m not exactly sure why. Care to fill me in on what’s going on in Avery’s world?”

Tapping my straw against the edge of the table, I slide it through the wrapper and pop it into the lid of the sweet tea Brogan ordered for me. I take a small sip, the cool sweetness calming the tight knot in my chest.

“Mmm. Thanks for this,” I say, lifting it slightly in her direction.

She narrows her eyes playfully. “Oh no, you don’t. I notice that little deflection.”

I laugh under my breath, already caught.

“Come on now,” she says, a little more serious this time. “My question isn’t going to just slip away. What’s been going on with you?”

I clear my throat and square my shoulders, trying to summon the kind of gravity this moment deserves. My palms are sweating and my heart is tripping in my chest, because this isn't just a casual catch-up with Brogan. This is the conversation. The one I’ve been rehearsing in my head for two days straight.

Ever since that girl at the party two nights ago—the one in the kitchen who looked like she was one wrong word away from going full Carrie on everyone—said, “If my best friend and brother had just been honest with me, none of this would've happened,” it’s been echoing in my head like a curse.

I took it as a sign and I asked her here to finally tell the truth about me and Callan. So, here I am, a jittery mess of nerves and caffeine, ready to come clean. And it’s not just the guilt, which feels like a cinder block sitting on my chest. But it’s also the reality that, like it or not, I’m tethered to these guys now. We’re bound by secrets we’re all desperate to keep buried.

So sharing a half version of the truth with my best friend feels necessary.

“Earth to Avery.” Brogan snaps her fingers in front of my face. “On with it, babe.”

“Right.” I take a deep breath, then begin, “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Callan and a couple other guys on the Lords’ hockey team.”

I don’t even know why I mentioned the other guys. Maybe I just thought it would soften the blow, like if it wasn’t just Callan I was hanging out with, it wouldn’t be so wrong.

Not that Callan and I hang out. Well, maybe we do.

Jesus. I’m a mess.

She lifts a brow, not missing a beat. “I know.”

That catches me off guard. “You do?”

She nods, still swirling her straw casually, like I’m not about to drop a bomb in her lap. “You said you were helping them study. I found out that was bullshit. Then I found out you and Callan went to see Evan. And I thought that was odd. So yeah, I know.”

My throat dries. “But I don’t think you fully understand why.”

Curious eyes look up at mine. “Then spit it out, silly. Just tell me.”

I suck in a breath like I’m diving underwater. Then in one breathless blur, I let it all out.

“Junior year, Callan and I slept together. Once. I told him it was a mistake and ran out of the room. He hated me for it, like, really hated me. He made my last year of high school a nightmare. Then we came here and started clashing again. He recently told me he was in love with me back in high school and I think that maybe…” I let my words trail off. “I might sort of, possibly…like him a little bit too.”

It’s not really a lie. All of those things did happen. And as for me liking Callan, that’s not a lie either. Lately, it feels like pieces of the old him keep surfacing and every time they do, my own feelings for him are brought to light.

The truth is, I did like Callan. Probably more than I ever admitted, even to myself. And if he’d just been honest back then, instead of trying to break me down, I think we could have had something special—something worth fighting for.

Brogan is far too quiet. I watch her closely, anticipating a response. My mouth twists into a grimace and I’m so close to gnawing off every last one of my fake nails like a feral gremlin. Anxiety has my heart doing all sorts of shit and all I can think is, why the hell did I open my mouth?

Brogan blinks, her spine straight against the chair. “Whoa.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I did not see that coming.”

“I know,” I quip, my eyebrows practically hanging out on my forehead while I wait for her to say something more.

“So…you two are, like…a thing now?”

“No!” The word bursts out of me in a half laugh, half sputter. “God, no. I mean…no. Definitely not.” I pause, biting the inside of my cheek. “We’ve just reconnected. Sort of. And we might hang out again. Maybe. Sometimes. You know, if that’s okay with you.”

Why do I feel more nervous right now than I did when that detective was grilling me in my own room? I guess it’s because Brogan matters more. This isn’t about hiding secrets from some stranger with a badge; it’s about my best friend. And deep down, I know how much this could sting. How it might feel like a betrayal, not just by me, but by Callan too.

She lifts a brow. “Are you seriously asking me for permission to fuck my brother?”

My whole body stiffens, eyes wide. “No! God, no. Not at all. I swear, we only…there was just that one time. That’s it.”

She snorts, completely unbothered. “Chill, Ave,” she says, breaking into a laugh. “I’m just messing with you.”

My shoulders instantly drop, the tension bleeding out all at once. “Jesus Christ, Brogan. Don’t do that to me.”

Her straw lingers between her lips as she speaks around it. “I don’t care if you and Callan…do whatever it is you and Callan want to do.” She waves a hand in the air, brushing it off like it’s no big deal. “I just don’t want the details, like ever.”

I chuckle. “Deal.”

Then I finally breathe. The air feels a little lighter, but I’m not done yet. There’s still more to say.

Only, this next part isn’t laced with anxiety, it’s soaked in emotion. And I worry it might be a little harder.

There’s a heavy beat of silence before I finally say, “There’s more.”

Her eyes snap up. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re pregnant.”

I laugh, a short, breathy sound that cuts through the tension. “No. Not pregnant.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “Then what is it?”

I inhale, bracing myself. “It’s…about my mom. Something I’ve never told you. Or anyone, actually.” I meet her gaze, steady this time. “And since I’m apparently in a full-blown confession arc, I figure, maybe it’s time I get this out, too.”

I can see the flicker of pity in her eyes. She knows whatever I’m about to say is going to hurt. Not her, but me.

Without a word, she pushes herself up. The screech of metal legs against the concrete cuts through the air. Brogan drags her chair until it’s right beside mine, close enough that our shoulders nearly touch. She doesn’t say anything as she turns toward me, ready to listen.

So, I tell her.

“My mom doesn’t live in the house with my dad. She hasn’t for a while.”

Brogan’s hand flies to her cheek. “Oh no. Are they getting a divorce?”

I shake my head, lips pressed tight for a second. “They’re already divorced. But it wasn’t your typical we fell out of love kind of thing. It was a no-fault divorce.”

I pause, letting the words settle, watching her face shift as she tries to process.

“I don’t know what that means,” she says softly. “But I’m so sorry, Ave.”

“It means,” I say, swallowing hard, “that my mom is mentally incapacitated. And my dad gave up on her. He didn’t want to be married to someone who wasn’t really there anymore.” My voice cracks slightly. “My mom’s not well, Brogan. She hasn’t been for a very long time.”

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around me like this is fresh news—like I haven’t been carrying it for years, quietly suffering on the inside. “She’ll be okay, right?”

I shrug against her chest, the weight of uncertainty pressing into my ribs. “I hope so. But I don’t really know.” I pause, voice softening. “She lives in a facility that takes really good care of her, and lately, she’s actually been thriving there. It’s the best she’s been in a long time.”

Brogan pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes full of something warm and aching. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”

I swallow hard, blinking through the blur. “I guess I’ve always been scared people would think I’m going to end up like her.” I pause, breath catching. “Or maybe it's me who’s scared I will.”

“No,” she says firmly, shaking her head. “Your mom’s fate is not yours, Ave. Don’t think like that. Not for a second.” She cradles my head again, pulling me close. “I hate that you’ve been carrying this by yourself, but I’m glad you told me so I can be here for you.”

Something in me loosens at that. Just enough to let the words start to flow.

So I tell her everything.

How we moved to Willow Creek the summer before eighth grade, not for the fresh start I always said, but because my mom became convinced our old neighbor had summoned the devil. She swore he’d been pulled straight from hell and possessed the woman next door.

Then one night, she broke into the neighbor’s house with a kitchen knife and attacked her.

That was the beginning, but it wasn’t the end. Not yet, anyways.

I tell her how every time I said my mom was away on business, it was a cover for the truth I wasn’t ready to say out loud.

Brogan doesn’t say anything right away. She just holds me tighter, like she’s trying to make up for all the years I carried this weight alone.

And I let her. I let myself be held until the tears stop falling, and until my breath doesn’t hitch every few seconds.

And by the time it’s all out, we’re both a blubbering mess. Smeared mascara, red noses, the whole dramatic package.

Yet, for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel alone in it.

The conversation shifts naturally, like the emotional storm has passed.

“So,” Brogan says, dabbing under her eyes with a napkin, “Hayes has been a total basket case all week over this game. He says if they don’t win, they’re out of the playoffs.”

That jogs my memory. “Speaking of the game tonight, would you mind if I skipped it?”

She groans immediately. “Seriously? Why?”

“Callan kind of asked me to go watch his game. It’s home, too. I could catch the first half of the Devils with you, then head over to their arena after?”

In all reality, I could skip it. I mean, there were no demands that I go. And I actually think we’re passed that point. But for some reason, I want to go.

She narrows her eyes, tone dripping sarcasm. “And just like that, he’s already stealing you from me.”

I giggle, reaching over to pat her leg. “Never.”

She sighs dramatically. “I guess. Just go watch all of his. But don’t you dare bail on me. Legends after the game, or die.”

“Deal,” I say, sticking out my pinkie.

She links hers with mine, sealing it with a squeeze.

We finish our drinks in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes after everything’s been said and nothing’s been broken.

“I should get to cheer practice,” Brogan mutters, like it’s the last place she wants to be. She slides her chair back, and I stand with her.

“See you tonight, babe.” She wraps her arms around me, and our hug lingers just a second longer than usual.

“You sure will,” I say.

I watch her walk away, feeling like the weight of the world has finally eased off my shoulders. Well, some of it, anyway.