Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

I ’ d spent enough time in my life around drunk people to know that they came in different shades. There were the sad drunks. The mean drunks. The explosive drunks.

But luckily for me, Maggie was what I’d consider a happy drunk. The entire ride back to her place, she’d petted my hair, told me what a good friend I was, and how happy she was that we were going to start a band together.

I decided it would be better to crush her dreams about the band thing when she was sober enough to handle it.

It didn’t take too much effort to get her up the stairs to her apartment. She only paused to sing once. As soon as we got inside, I realized how correct Maggie was about the tight living quarters while her mother was staying there.

As I flicked the light on, it illuminated the disaster that had become Maggie’s apartment. There were bags and boxes everywhere as if a middle-aged woman’s closet had exploded into the heart of Maggie’s living room. The couch was pulled out into a futon with the sleeping figure of a woman snoring away in the center.

I was quick to remedy my mistake, switching the light back off and hoping that I remembered the layout of the space well enough to navigate in the darkness.

“Shhh,” I shushed Maggie as she continued to ramble on about something at full volume. “Your mom is sleeping.”

“Right,” Maggie said, lowering her voice a notch in a humorous attempt at a whisper. “Let’s be super quiet.”

A second passed, and she tumbled over something in our path, narrowly missing a full-on tumble to the floor.

This place definitely wasn’t the spotless apartment that Liam had. The apartment that he was probably taking that girl back to at that exact moment.

I’d looked up from karaoke to see that girl from the bar sitting beside him, and something dangerous lurked in my chest at the sight. Anger? Sadness? Jealousy? All things I didn’t have the right to feel.

Which gave me the cue that I should probably make myself scarce for a while. It had only been a few days, and already I was taking Liam’s kindness to heart.

I didn’t have any claim over him, so why the hell did it make my chest ache when I saw him with someone else?

Maybe I was projecting my feelings from my breakup onto Liam. Since I felt safe with him, it was almost like I viewed him as mine in a way.

Which was crazy because he wasn’t mine and never would be. In fact, I needed to actually start checking out some of the apartment listings I’d found. Immediately.

I managed to get us to Maggie’s bedroom, pulling back the covers of her queen-sized bed and helping her slip in. Once she was settled, I crept to her kitchen and filled a glass with water before raiding her medicine cabinet for something to cure the headache I knew she’d wake up with.

I put it beside her bed before climbing in on the other side, feeling exhausted all the way down to my bones.

“I’m sorry, Cass,” Maggie’s voice said into the darkness. “I know how much you hate drinking, and then I went off and got drunk on you.”

“It’s okay, Mags.” I shifted on my side to face her. “I’m glad you had a fun night.”

“That guy, Brody, is kind of cute.” She sighed dreamily. “I think he likes me.”

“Yeah?” I perked up, thrilled at the idea of Maggie finding a nice guy.

And I knew he was a nice guy because if he wasn’t, I was sure Liam never would’ve let him near his sister. No matter how much of a distance there seemed to be between him and Maggie, I knew he was the type never to let anyone hurt her.

“Yeah.” She yawned. “But I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared, Maggie?”

“Because if I see him again, then I think maybe I’ll like him back. So I probably shouldn’t, right?”

I laughed into the space between us. “Is it really so bad to settle down with one guy?”

I asked the question I never dared before. Maggie never had any issue with getting a guy’s attention, but they had the problem of trying to keep hers. It seemed like she was always meeting a guy, hanging out for a few days, and then moving on to the next one. To my hopeless romantic brain, who craved monogamy and commitment above all else, it seemed like self-inflicted torture. But Maggie was different.

“What if once I start to like him, he stops liking me?”

“I don’t think that would happen,” I said honestly.

Maggie had a long list of amazing qualities that made her the coolest girl in the world—and her beauty was the least important one. She was funny, selfless, and exciting. As far as I knew, the issue in the past had never been a guy not liking her but her not liking any of the guys.

“I really don’t like being left,” she admitted in a soft, sad voice. “I don’t like the way I feel when people leave. I don’t think I ever want to feel it again.”

“No one’s leaving you, Maggie,” I said, rubbing a hand down her arm to assure her I was right there beside her.

“I’m glad you met Liam,” she responded, her voice drifting off to sleep. “You made him start to smile again.”

And then, she rolled over before I could say another word.

What the hell was wrong with Liam Brynn that he’d Venmoed me $150 while I was sleeping?

I woke up to the notification and rubbed my eyes against the brightness of the screen. Surely, it was a mistake. Maybe he’d meant to send it to someone else.

But the words Uber were attached to the payment, and I rolled my eyes at the realization.

The man really felt responsible for paying for our Uber just because I was taking his sister home. Right as I started to send the money back, Maggie woke with a groan, and I clicked the phone off to give her my attention.

“There’s water by the bed and Ibuprofen,” I told her. “I’d offer to go make you food, but I’m scared to run into your mom,” I admitted sheepishly.

I was a grown woman who still got shy meeting people’s parents. I knew Maggie’s mom was nice. Maggie had always told me what a great relationship they had, which always gave me a little tingle of jealousy when I heard. But still, even though Mrs. Brynn was rumored to be kind and delightful, there was always a bit of anxiety in my stomach at the thought of having to interact with someone’s parent.

“Oh, yeah,” Maggie said, “I forgot about your weird thing with authority figures.”

I scoffed. “Your mom is not an authority figure. I’m twenty-four years old.”

“Right, well, someone needs to tell you that. And anyway, I think she’s at her yoga class, so you’re in the clear.”

I laughed, pulling the pillow out from under my head and throwing it at her before getting out of bed.

“Speaking of,” she continued between gulps of water. “How’s your mom?”

I bristled, pulling a stray piece of fabric from my clothes. “I don’t think she’s doing great,” I admitted, looking anywhere but Maggie’s eyes. “I actually think I need to head over there today to check on her.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Maggie offered, but I shook my head violently before she even got the full words out.

“No, no. It’s okay,” I assured her quickly. “Thank you, though.”

The thought of my mom meeting any of my friends was an idea that had haunted me my whole life. Every time she had, it ended badly. She couldn’t control what she said or how she acted, and it always left me reeling with embarrassment, never wanting to see the friend who had to witness her behavior ever again.

Now, I’d come to realize my mother’s behavior was in no way a reflection of me, but old habits died hard, and I still somehow felt like the same little girl every time I was around her.

The idea of going back home filled me with dread because, like always, I never knew what I was walking into.

The unpredictability of it was… unsettling. But I hadn’t heard from my mom at all in a few days, and she wasn’t answering the phone either.

The same familiar tingle of fear settled in my gut. Dysfunctional as she was, she was my mother, and if anything ever happened to her, it would crush me. And the inevitability of that seemed far closer than I would like.

Maggie, for her part, looked at me as if she could see every emotion that played across my face.

“You know I’m always here for you, ,” she promised.

I looked at her, feeling the truth behind those words and clinging to it like an anchor.

“I know.”