Page 26 of Will Bark for Pizza (Bluebell Springs #1)

“How long?” Alyssa asked me when we stopped paddling and simply floated in the middle where the best view of the largest, snowcapped mountains was.

“How long am I home?”

“How long ago did you dump the sorry excuse for a boyfriend you had?”

“The night of Aspen’s wedding.”

Aspen looked at me, her expression revealing shock.

“I’ve been no contact with him since I picked up my stuff from his place the next day.”

“That’s why you left without telling anyone?” Alyssa guessed.

“Travis supposedly planned a romantic weekend away the same weekend as your wedding,” I said to Aspen, since Alyssa already knew this part.

“What?” Aspen asked, her question a mere whisper.

“You still haven’t told her?” Alyssa asked.

I ignored the prodding I deserved and went on.

“He claimed I never told him your wedding date, even though the save the date was on his fridge for months.”

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that this was all in the past. Travis was in the past. These were just things that happened to me. Things I couldn’t change. Things that no longer deserved my energy or emotions. But my closest friends deserved an explanation.

“In case it’s not obvious, he’s a narcissistic asshole. He controlled every aspect of my life for three years, but I was too stupid to see it for a long time.”

“You weren’t stupid,” Alyssa said, giving me a break I didn’t expect. “You’re a decent human being who never expected someone you trusted and cared about to be so fucking deceitful and manipulative. Give yourself some grace.”

I sent her an appreciative smile as Husker finally settled on the board, pointed toward the mint green house across the lake in his Sphinx-like position.

The same house with the garden and kayaks.

I wondered if Luke was called out to the lake that night I fell in.

If Beckett met him and told him some crazy redhead fell into the water and needed rescuing.

Did he know who I was then?

Impossible.

Or was it?

We never met until a few days ago, and his surprise seemed as genuine as mine. But I heard about him so much over the years that it felt as though I knew him. He probably heard about me. Saw pictures. But he pretended not to know me. Or was that real? Maybe the red hair threw him.

Gah, I hated how confused I was. I didn’t know if it was because of the bookstore secret or because I was dredging up all this shit about Travis. Probably a combination of both.

“You okay?” Aspen asked.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told anyone,” I admitted.

“You can tell us if and when you’re ready,” she added.

“Oh, I’m ready,” I answered immediately. I held on to Travis’ secrets for too long, thinking I was protecting him when really I was enabling his shitty behavior. I understood now I’d been abused into silence. I owed him nothing. So, I told them everything.

I told them how he wasn’t merely an alcoholic.

How he gambled away thousands of dollars, chasing some high I didn’t understand.

How he convinced me the FBI was tapping his house so we could never have a fully honest conversation.

How he always made my birthday all about him.

How he ruined one Christmas by packing all my belongings—including fully un-decorating the seven-foot Christmas tree I bought—and left everything in the hallway of my apartment, all because I spent the day in Lincoln with my grandparents who were in state visiting.

“Why did you never tell us?” Aspen asked gently.

“It all sounds crazy. I thought I would sound crazy. That no one would believe me.”

“He convinced you not to go to my wedding?” Aspen asked. “Because he planned a romantic getaway?”

“There was no trip.” If I’d skipped the wedding, Travis would have made up some excuse about the hotel reservation getting canceled—through no fault of his own. I knew that now. “But I was so afraid of the consequences of not doing what he wanted that I wasn’t planning to come.”

“To be fair,” Alyssa said to Aspen, “I basically kidnapped her against her will.”

“The night of your wedding, Travis got super drunk and texted me a picture of a receipt from Berkenheimer’s.”

Aspen threw a hand over her mouth. “He didn’t.”

“He wanted to punish me for going to your wedding. So he sent a picture of the receipt for an engagement ring he returned.”

“Can we go hunt down this asshole right now? I’ll bring the shovels.”

“I’d been drinking too much,” I admitted. “Because before that picture, he was blowing up my phone saying the worst things to make me feel bad about leaving him home alone. When that picture came through, I just . . . lost it. My ability to hold everything inside just disappeared.”

“And you thought the best way to let it all out was to give a toast to the bride and groom that turned into a family roasting?” Alyssa asked, her question kinder than I deserved.

I met her gaze across the water between our circled boards, and we burst into laughter.

“You know, not everything you said was terrible,” Aspen admitted.

“And some of it was pretty fucking funny,” Alyssa agreed. “Like how Luke always has a stick up his ass, even when he’s happy.”

“I’m sorry for making a scene,” I said to Aspen. Then I looked at Alyssa. “I’m sorry you had to fly to Omaha and kidnap me, but I’m really glad you did. If you hadn’t?—”

“Okay, okay,” Alyssa said, holding up her hands.

Both dogs looked at her, as though she might have treats.

“That’s enough. You’re forgiven, but only if we can move the fuck on.

And if you promise the only time you will ever see Travis again is if we’re burying his body somewhere deep in the forest where no one will ever think to look. ”

God, I didn’t deserve friends like this.

“Deal.”

“I’m hungry,” Aspen announced. “Let’s go grab a burger at Kat’s.”

“Um, pretty sure I’m banned,” I said.

“I called in a favor,” Aspen said of her aunt. “But you owe me one.”

I owed her a lot more than a simple favor. I owed them both. “Dinner’s on me.”

“If you want us to argue, we’re not going to,” Alyssa said.

Maybe I couldn’t save Mom’s bookstore, but at least my most important friendships were still intact.

“Anyone up for darts?”

“Only if you won’t cheat,” Alyssa said to me.

“I never cheat,” I said, turning my board around but refusing to get off my butt. Partially, I was feeling lazy. Mostly, I wasn’t eager to be tossed into the lake again.

“You always cheat,” Aspen agreed with her. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll still beat you.”

Despite the shittiness of the bookstore situation, at least I still had my friends.

But I also still had to deal with Beckett Campbell and my conflicting urges to sneak across the hall tonight to smother him with a pillow . . . or crawl under his covers and mount him.