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SEVENTEEN

I hurry home, hoping for a chance to confront Crystal before she goes out for the night. To my surprise, she’s waiting on me in the kitchen when I arrive.

“Get dressed,” she says, tossing something at me as soon as I walk in the door. “We’re going out.”

The mesh fabric is soft and luxurious against my hands. It’s obviously a dress from her closet—nothing I own is that delicate or stylish. I look at her, confused. “Why?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” she says, her skin glowing. “And I think it’s best to talk about business in the right location.” She looks around the room, disappointed. “New surroundings.”

“Crystal,” I say her name sternly. “What’s going on?”

“I have an idea I want to run by you?—”

“Then tell me now.” My voice is raised. I’m getting impatient. “What is it?”

“My agency just posted a new position for an agent assistant, and I think it would be a great opportunity.”

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. Wouldn’t it be cool if we got to work together?”

My head is spinning with what I need to confront her about and this random job proposal she’s dropped in my lap. Why would she even consider me?

“I don’t know anything about real estate.”

“It’s okay. You’d just be my assistant, at first. I could show you the ropes, help you study. You could have your own license within the year, and then we’d be working on the same level.”

I scoff. Even when Crystal is trying to be nice, she has a way of making everything a competition. Her job proposal is ridiculous, and it’s getting in the way of what we should be talking about. The affair with April’s husband.

“Look, there’s something I want to talk to you about?—”

“No, no, no. You’re not doing this.” She marches closer to me, making it difficult for me to move around her. “I’m not letting you change the subject.”

“I have absolutely no desire to work in real estate.”

“Why not?” she asks, hands on her hips. “What do you want to do with your life?”

“You sound like my mother.” I mean it as a joke, but then I notice the way she averts her eyes. She takes a step back. “Crystal, have you been talking to my mom?”

“She has always been so kind to me, ever since college. She reaches out on Facebook from time to time.”

“Oh my gosh.” My cheeks flush with heat as I slap my arms against my sides. “What did she say to you?”

“She’s worried. She doesn’t know what you’re doing, and every time she tries to talk to you about it, you brush her off. Just like you’re doing now.”

“It doesn’t matter what I’m doing with my life! It’s my life. Not hers. Or yours.”

“She thought real estate was something you might enjoy.”

“Mom doesn’t care about me enjoying anything. She just wants me to have a real job she can tell her friends about when they meet up for their weekly card game. Being a writer and a waitress isn’t sparkly enough for her.”

“It’s not just that,” Crystal says plainly. “She says you don’t tell her anything about your life. She didn’t even know I was living with you.”

“Well, that’s been a recent change,” I say, and one I’m starting to regret. Crystal may be one of my oldest friends, but I preferred her like everyone else, at a distance. The idea that she’s watching everything I do and don’t do, and reporting back to my mother, makes me cringe.

“My relationship with my mother is shaky,” I say. “You know that. I don’t need you getting involved.”

She raises her hands in the air like a surrender. “I won’t get involved anymore. I did think the assistant job was a good idea. There’s a lot of potential there, and in this market?—”

“You were complaining about the market a few days ago.”

“It’s tumultuous, but what field isn’t? You mean to tell me you have more stability with writing?”

I grind my teeth. Knowing Crystal, she didn’t mean for it to come out as a jab, but it did anyway. Always a competition between me and her. She’s recovered and flourishing and will never let me forget it.

“You always do this,” she continues. “Look for any excuse to walk away from something once it gets hard. How many jobs have you left in the past few years? This is an opportunity for you to grow and thrive.”

Crystal makes it sound like I’m the world’s biggest slacker, but she doesn’t know that some of those jobs were ruined for me by the black hearts. I never told her because I couldn’t stand the possibility of another person not believing me.

“I appreciate you taking such an interest in my personal life,” I begin, “but I really think you should take this time to focus on yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I pause, bracing for her reaction. “Are you sleeping with a married man?”

She places her hands on her hips and raises her chin. “I just called off my engagement. Why would you even think that?”

“His wife told me about it.” I pause again. “Does the name Chase ring a bell?”

Her eyes are large. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“It’s casual, yes.” She turns away from me now, putting distance between us as she wanders toward the living room.

“He’s married with two kids, Crystal,” I say, following her.

“Not according to him. He says they’ve been separated for weeks.”

“Even if that’s true, don’t you think it’s a messy situation to enter?”

“Now you’re giving life advice.”

“I’m not trying to. Trust me, I didn’t go looking for this information.” I raise my hands in an attempt to show her I’m not being judgmental. Rather, I’m concerned, like she claimed to be. “It just fell into my lap, and I knew I had to ask you about it.”

“How do you just stumble onto information like that?”

“His wife is in my writing group. Her name is April.” I pause again, watching to see if the name rings a bell. “She says she knew you from college.”

“I vaguely remember her.” Her arms are now folded across her chest. “I mean, we weren’t close, or else you would know her.”

“That’s what I thought.” Then again, Crystal always ran in wider social circles, even then. Could she have been closer to April than I realized? Could April know more about the past than she is letting on?

“We were acquaintances, at best,” she continues to defend herself. “It’s not like I’m betraying a friend, or anything. And I’m not some homewrecker, either. Chase told me they were separated.”

“I think they are. Now. The timeline might be a little fuzzy on his end,” I say. “April seems to think you’re one of the reasons they’re breaking up.”

“It’s always the other woman’s fault, is that it? Look, Chase is a casual thing. I could cut it off in no time. Lord knows, I have a line of guys waiting on their chance with me. The problems in your life, however, are a lot harder to fix.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” I resent the cruelty of her comment because it’s true. “If it’s so easy for you to end things with Chase, then prove it.”

Normally, I admire Crystal’s confidence, her ability to take on life fearless and head-first, but her reaction to sleeping with a married man bothers me.

She’s making excuses, when we both know she’s too smart to fall for his lies and half-truths.

After witnessing what I went through with Jasper, I thought she’d be more sympathetic.

In fact, my breakup seemed to rekindle our friendship, made her a bigger part of my life again.

I’ve tried extending that same olive branch in the wake of her broken engagement with Thomas, and look where that’s gotten me.

“Fine. I will,” she says, uncrossing her arms. “But please, don’t let this argument overshadow what I was trying to say before. It’s time you start living your life again. Enough time has passed.”

“Has it? Remind me, how long did it take you to move on after what happened?”

In a conversation filled with accusations and digs, this is the one that proves most brutal. Crystal and I never talk about what happened. Not really. We dance around the topic, afraid to get too close. Now, Crystal looks at me, the pain from the past decade etched across her beautiful face.

“Moving on isn’t the worst thing in the world. You should try it. It might make you happy for a change.” She moves back toward the kitchen, grabbing her purse off the kitchen table and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m not a villain for living my life. Don’t make me out to be one.”

“Crystal, I wasn’t trying to?—”

“I’m going out. Maybe we can make plans for another night.” She opens the door. “At least think about the job?”

“I will,” I lie.

There’s already too much for me to think about. Jessica Wilder’s murder. The possibility that one of the Mystery Maidens is the culprit. The black hearts. My life is in shambles, and I’m lost on how to fix it.