Page 7

STACY

G od, I’m an idiot.

I built it up in my head—every second of it.

A perfect plan for the perfect night. All I had to do was get Monica to come with me, and the rest would fall into place.

I had it all perfectly planned out in my head. If Monica came, Raul would come too. And Raul never shows up without Ray—not when Sam and Erica already had plans. They’d show up and Ray would see me talking. He’d get jealous, grab me by my hand and demand I come with him.

Laughing, kissing in my car, maybe pull over somewhere along the old highway, unable to keep our hands off each other. It was supposed to be a storybook night—spontaneous, charged, and reckless in the best kind of way.

That was the plan. But I should’ve known better—nothing in my life ever sticks to the script. Instead of passion and sparks, I got chaos. Violence. Screaming. A complete disaster.

I couldn’t believe it. He’d acted like a damn animal.

No plan. No flash of bravado in a calculated display of alpha male claiming.

Instead I got him barreling in like a bull in a china shop.

Smashing, striking people, knocking a guy into the pool and threatening Steve Wilkins.

I'll be lucky if I have a job when I get back.

I’d wanted him to show up. Of course I did. That was the entire plan. Even Monica thought it would go okay. She was more worried about Raul who was the hot-headed one of the Crawfords. Not Ray, who was always the peacemaker. The one who never lost control.

Except he did.

Shame coils in my belly—hot, tight, relentless. I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I want to disappear and not just from North Haven, but from everyone who knows me—especially Monica.

God Monica. Sweet, loyal Monica. What a mess I’ve made.

Monica’s been my person since we were twelve.

Loyal to a fault, loving with a fierceness I’ve never deserved.

I know she’ll still love me even after this, but I don’t want her to see me unraveling.

It would break her heart and how can I inflict this on her?

After the scene I caused? And the fight between her and Raul? That’s my fault too.

No. Not me. Ray.

He’s the one who ripped the night to pieces in a violent storm of drama and ego.

Monica, bless her, lost it. I didn’t think it was possible.

In all the years I’ve known her she’s never raised her voice in anger.

The stress of finals week didn’t make it happen.

Her boss throwing her under the bus last spring didn’t.

But Ray Crawford was more than she could take.

Raging storm that he is, he set fire to all her serenity and she lost it. Screaming at him and Raul both like a woman possessed before storming off to Raul’s pickup. She slammed the door so hard I felt it in my spine.

And that was the end of it. I was too ashamed to ask for a ride so I’d called an Uber and rode back to the city in silence. The kind that feels louder than any radio station could ever drown out. With every mile, the knot in my chest loosened—just a little. Just enough to breathe again.

I managed to make it home before I cracked. That breath turned into a sob and there was no stopping the tears because when I asked myself who I could call, the answer hit me like a punch to the face.

My two closest friends were miles away in Dawson. I’d hurt Monica and besides they were wrapped in their new lives, their new homes, and their new men. How can I blame them? Love’s supposed to move you forward and it did. For them.

God, I feel so left behind. Left alone in an empty space that used to be full of us.

Sure, I could hit that little video chat icon, but what good will it do?

A screen can’t wrap around me. Can’t hold me while I fall apart.

It’s no substitute. I want to collapse into a hug that smells like our shared shampoo and feels like a thousand inside jokes.

Like the group hugs we passed around, a kind of medicine before the Crawfords had barged into our lives and rewritten everything.

And right then my phone chimes. I pick it up and stare because it’s as if she’s in my head.

I heard what happened between you and Ray. I’ll be at my place early tomorrow, so we can talk. 6 o’clock. Don’t be late.

Erica. A sob slips out—raw, grateful. God, bless her.

She’s saving me from having to crawl back to the Catskills to cry on her shoulder. And right now, more than ever before, the last thing I need is a trip back to the core of my shame. Where Ray is. His scent lingering in the air.

I don’t even want to breathe the same air as him. The thought of being near him makes my stomach churn. God, no. I wouldn’t survive it—not without saying things I know I’ll regret. She’s saving me from new drama and that is why my love for her will never die.

I pull into Erica’s driveway promptly at six. My heart is so full of gratitude that my hands are shaking.

She’s waiting outside, which, of course she is. Sitting in a chair on her small porch, sipping a mug like she’s the queen of calm. I walk up the path and her eyes meet mine, warm and knowing.

“Hey,” she calls, swirling the straw in her drink. “Do you want one of these?”

“No, thanks,” I say, my voice dry as dust. “Last thing I need right now is caffeine.”

“Damn…” she muses. “Monica said you were upset, but no caffeine? Here I thought she was being dramatic.”

“Upset is a polite way of putting it,” I say, sinking into the chair beside her. “Try outraged, humiliated, and end with done .”

She tilts her head, pursing her lips around the straw and sucking. She swallows and blinks slowly before she speaks.

“Okay, Red. Walk me through this, because I’m confused. I thought you wanted Ray to crash the party?”

I drop into the chair at her side, rolling my eyes. I stare out at the street, trying to sort out the words.

“I mean…” I sigh, motioning through the air like I might conjure the words.

“I wanted him to come, sure—but full-on caveman was not part of the plan. He didn’t come to see me—he barreled through the damn gate and attacked Steve Wilkins.

Took out two of his bodyguards. Grabs my hand and screams she’s mine like he was claiming a fucking parking spot. ”

Erica blinks and shakes her head. She doesn’t smirk, but it feels like she wants to, or maybe I’m reading too much into it.

“That jackass,” she mutters, sipping slowly—like she’s trying not to laugh.

I stare, trying to decide if that’s sarcasm or not and finally shrug.

“He acted like I was a prize, a thing, to be taken. As if I didn’t have a say.”

“What did you expect?” she asks, unerringly piercing the heart of the matter.

“Not that,” I say, shaking my head. I close my eyes, lean my head back and sigh before meeting her steady gaze again.

“Well?”

“Simple, I guess. He walks in, like a normal person, pulls me aside and says he can’t stand seeing me with someone else. That’s it. I would have melted.”

“Hmm,” she murmurs, still keeping the mug at her lips. I narrow my eyes, she’s holding back.

“Instead he acted like a mad man and I was nothing more than an object. Don’t get me wrong, I like an alpha man as much as the next girl, but I’m not… a thing.”

“Preach,” she nods. She sets her drink on the small table between our chairs. “Honestly, I have to say that I’m shocked. I didn’t think Ray had it in him to be violent.”

“Well, apparently he does.” Her lips part, but I hold up a hand stopping her before she says it. “Don’t you dare blame the wolf.” I lean back, crossing my arms. “Wolf or not, he doesn’t get a free pass. His instincts don’t excuse what he did.”

Erica shrugs and sighs. She shakes her head.

“Look, I’m not making excuses, but… it is hard for shifters. Sam and Raul spent years learning to control their instincts. I don’t think that Ray has.”

I scoff. “Apparently.”

“Look, I’ve had to learn a lot. It’s not just about when they shift,” she says, leaning forward. “The animal’s always there. Even when they’re in human form, it whispers and pushes. If they don’t train themselves to control it, it will take over.”

I stare at her for a long moment. There a lot I don’t know about the Crawfords and their nature.

“Yeah… well…” I trail off, digesting that. Trying to find it in myself to forgive him. “I didn’t know. But it still doesn’t justify what he did.”

“No,” Erica agrees. “It doesn’t, but it explains it. Some at least.” She studies me from behind her long, gorgeous lashes that I’ve always been jealous of. “You should’ve spent more time with us in Dawson. Then you’d understand him better.”

“I don’t want to understand him. He embarrassed me. And Monica. That night was supposed to be the moment, not… this.”

Erica smirks. “He got what he deserved then?”

“Oh, yeah. I slapped him. Hard.”

She snorts—literally, coffee through the nose. She scrambles for a napkin, laughing.

“You slapped Ray?”

“Yes I did,” I say, a grin forming despite myself. “Believe me, I wanted to do more.”

“Gutsy and stupid.” She dabs at her chin. “He could’ve shifted and?—”

“Bitten my head off?” I finish. “Yeah. Didn’t think of that ‘til after I left.”

Erica shakes her head, the smile fading. “That means something, though. He didn’t lose it. Even when provoked. That’s control. That’s… softness. For you, specifically.”

“Don’t,” I say, looking out over her perfect green lawn. “Don’t turn this into some romance novel moment. I’m not his project or his possession—I’m a person, damn it.”

“You do.” Her voice is gentle. “But he was better the night he saved you, wasn’t he?”

I nod, slowly. Remembering how he intervened and kept me from getting my ass kicked by a jealous wife I hadn’t known existed.

“That’s what gets me. That night, he was… kind. Gentle, even. I saw something in him. Something I thought was real.”

Erica watches me for a long moment, silent, but clearly having something she wants to say.

“Look, I’m not saying forgive him, but he is Sam and Raul’s brother. That makes him part of my and Monica’s life. And we want you back in Dawson.”

“I don’t?—”

She cuts me off with a frown, her face shifting to her serious I-will-brook-no-shit expression.

“You don’t have to like him. You don’t even have to talk to him. But this weekend, you get your ass back there and bury the hatchet.”

I roll my eyes. “He won’t have forgotten that slap.”

“Probably not, but you’re my and Monica’s friend. I don’t want to miss you, so don’t let him take that away.”

I breathe in, deep. Let it out slow.

“You’re not losing me.”

Her smile is warm, steady—like always. Like home.

We don’t need to say more. I see it in her eyes—everything we’ve shared, everything we will. If I were to let this rift grow, Ray would win more than a ruined night. He’d steal the one thing I’ve held on to longer than any romance.

My friends.

I won’t let him do that to me, no matter how much it stings my pride.