Nova
“I still don’t understand how George knew where you were?”
I rub my forehead, toes digging into the mattress, phone on speaker as I talk to Ella. “I don’t know, either. I just…I asked and he didn’t answer, and it was chaos for a couple of hours before he was hauled off by the sheriff, and…”
“What?” she asks when I don’t say anything else.
“Ashley,” I supply on a sigh.
“Babe.” A beat. “I know you know that I think you shouldn’t have given her the jewelry.” My heart pulses, hand going to my jacket pocket, running my fingers over the butterfly charm. “But I get why you did it. Some part of you loves her and always will. She’s your sister, and you went through a lot together.”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“So, I get it. I wish you didn’t feel that you had to do that. I wish that she saw you for how wonderful you are, but she’s…not good, babe. And I don’t think she will.”
“I told her I don’t want to see her again.”
An inhale rattling through the speakers. “I think that’s a good boundary, but also…”
“What?”
“Just don’t beat yourself up if that changes. Family is complicated.”
I think of what Lake told me about his mom.
I think of Ashley and our tangled world—the hurts and betrayals and the way I still clung to something that wasn’t healthy.
I think of Ella and Knox and their very complicated family.
“Yeah,” I agree softly. “It is.”
We’re quiet for a blip.
“And, for the record,” she says. “I’m glad that George is out of the picture. He’s an asshole.”
“I haven’t seen him since that, and I hope I don’t.”
“He’s probably on his way to Vegas to con some poor, innocent woman out of her time and energy and money.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Maybe.”
“And you wouldn’t see him, anyway.” A beat. “Considering you’re stowed away in Lake’s shag mansion.”
Those wrinkles deepen because…ew.
I mean, she’s not wrong.
But still…ew.
She giggles into my disgusted silence. “Too far?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, picking up my mug—now filled with hot cocoa because today, while Lake is at practice, I’m watching Hallmark movies to go alongside my cheesy action flicks.
And scrolling through my photographs.
And catching up with Ella.
Read: giving my friend the riot act.
Then catching her up.
Now, though, the sun is setting outside and I’m snug in Lake’s fluffy blankies and hot cocoa is the best cozy, comfy, snuggly-in-fuzzy-blankets drink around.
“You went too far when you started in about his branch,” I tell her. “You went too far when you sent me on a collision course with a grumpy hockey player and an empty house. You went infinitely too far just now by referring to this beautiful house as a shag mansion.”
Even though we have been fucking like jackrabbits.
Ella feigns seriousness, but I read right through her. My best friend doesn’t do serious. At all. “First,” she says. “Don’t yuck my yum. Second”—I can picture her ticking these off on her fingers—“I didn’t know the house was empty.”
I sigh. “Meanwhile, she doesn’t mention the grumpy hockey player,”
“Third,” she says over me. “Lake knows how to use that branch, if what you’ve told me is the truth”—because, yes, I spilled everything to my friend—“so really, you should be thankful.”
“Or the snowbank.”
Ella huffs out a laugh. “Considering the orgasms he gave you, I would brave the snowbank and take a little, or I guess, big”—she cackles—“grumpy.”
I narrow my eyes even though she can’t see me. “It wasn’t little.”
The grumpy or the penis.
“Okay,” she says. “How about this? I would take a lot of grumpy from a man who looks like Lake Jordan. I mean, have you seen his underwear ads?”
No. In fact, I have not.
My fingers start moving on the keyboard.
“You’re looking them up right now, aren’t you?” she asks, chortling.
“Damn right, I am.” I click and the picture pops up and—
I shiver.
Because I’ve seen that broody look directed my way. I’ve seen those six-pack abs and those strong thighs up close and personal.
But I haven’t seen them all oiled up, glistening, and—
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
“I hope you’ve licked every inch of him,” Ella says dreamily.
I haven’t yet. But I’m going to, just as homage to this photograph.
And maybe I was going to two-day ship in some body oil, just for good measure.
“I’ll definitely stick around long enough to do at least that,” I say, so focused on the pictures that it takes me a moment to realize Ella isn’t snarking back. “What?” I ask.
“You’re leaving again?”
Her question is taut, unhappy.
“Ells,” I begin. “I don’t have a job. I’m single because my boyfriend—who, yes, I’ve come to realize is a major asshole—cheated on me with my sister. I’m not talking to either of them. My parents are…wherever. My grandmother is dead.” I lean back against the headboard and sigh. “So, really, what’s holding me here?”
“Me,” she snaps. “You’re my best friend. I should actually be able to see you.”
“Honey, I always visit, you know that. But this is a good thing. Steve and I can go explore, and—”
“Hide because you don’t want to actually live your life.”
I still, but her words keep coming.
“Be too proud to actually accept some help from a person who’s willing to freely give it,” she all but yells. “That person is me, by the way. Or Knox. Or, I think, given what you’ve told me, Lake.”
That’s so close to what he said before he left for the rink this morning that I freeze, fingers clenching into fists. “Ells,” I warn.
“And I’m here. I want to see you and talk to you regularly. When you disappear for months at a time, that doesn’t happen.”
Guilt curls through me. “Ella—”
“And you said Lake told you that you can stay as long as you want.”
I shake my head. “That’s just him being nice.”
“The grumpy hockey player being nice,” she says dryly.
I hate that she makes a point, hate the way that sends the butterflies in my belly soaring.
“Honey,” I say gently. “Please don’t be mad.”
Silence that’s so tense, I hold my breath.
But then she blows out a breath, and I do too. “I’ll always be here for you, you know that right?”
My heart squeezes. “Yeah. And I’m here too.”
“Just not in person.”
Another squeeze, almost violent now. “Honey—”
“Sorry,” she says, exhaling again. “That was bitchy.” Another breath. “I love you, and I’ll do that wherever you are.”
“I love you too.”
“Good, good.” A quick acknowledgment of my feelings that might make her feel something she’s uncomfortable with before pressing forward, moving on to something less tetchy—and seriously, it’s no wonder she and I are close. We’re flip sides of the same coin. “Anyway,” she says. “Knox told me that while Lake’s been extra grumpy lately, he’s a good guy.” A beat. “Maybe you just stumbled upon him at the apex of that and he’s swinging back to his normal self.”
That, I don’t know.
I just…also don’t want to look at any of this too closely.
I don’t want to think about what there is about me that might make him be less grumpy—
It doesn’t matter.
I’m staying here until I’ve got things in place, a plan to move forward, and in exchange for that—and copious orgasms—I’ll make him as many honey rosemary mules as he wants.
And help him order more furniture online.
And cook a meal without burning it…hopefully.
Then we’ll move forward and each go our own way and everything will be great.
It’ll be perfect.
There’s noise in the hall, and Steve perks up his ears. “I’ve got to go,” I tell Ella.
“Okay, Nov,” she says, and then like the emotional ninja she is, pushing me to be better when she, herself, is stuck on the sidelines, she slips in some wisdom I know she doesn’t accept into her own heart. “Remember that it’s okay to want something more than you think you deserve.”
My stomach flutters—fucking butterflies.
But I just say, “Yeah,” and hang up, trying to get them to settle, to pretend her words don’t land somewhere deep inside.
Because my parents left, my grandma died, my boss didn’t value my work, and my sister…well—
A sigh.
Sometimes I think I’ve already gotten what I deserve.