Three weeks.
Three weeks had passed since Mia moved out, and while they still talked, Sky had fucked up their friendship beyond repair. The worst thing about it all? If she hadn’t been so stunned by Mia’s confession, she would have done anything to keep Mia in her apartment, in her bed. The words that had glued like epoxy to the roof of her mouth might’ve unstuck themselves at last. Her place never felt this empty before, but reminders of Mia’s presence lingered everywhere.
Including the sketch Mia had left behind of Sky, Jamie, and her back in high school. It may have accumulated a few tearstains after Sky found the piece resting on her countertop after Mia departed.
Sky settled into the booth at Renegades, grateful to be out of the house and back to work. Some restrictions and lighter hours remained in place, but the distraction was the only thing keeping her afloat right now. She’d called Aubs out because she needed someone to shake some sense into her. Chatter flowed around her, the bars and restaurants were creeping back into business in the wake of the TELA virus.
There had been so much panic, so much fear, and yet she’d been encased in this blissful cocoon of sex and love with the woman of her dreams. How she’d let that slip out of her fingers was a goddamn travesty.
Aubs sauntered to the booth, her hair pulled into a ponytail and wearing sleek athletic clothes that highlighted how in shape she remained even after all the time cloistered away. Along the way, she cast a few winks and blew a few kisses to some of the ladies by the bar.
“God, I could fuck my way through this place and still not be satisfied after two months of being caged away from human contact,” Aubrey said as she flounced into the seat opposite her. “How are you not on the prowl with all this eye candy here?”
Sky pinched her nape. “I didn’t have any problems during the quarantine.”
Aubrey turned to face her, full attention swinging her way like a baseball bat. “No fucking way. You and that complete fox you’ve been obsessed with forever hooked up? Why the hell are you out here with me and not holed away fucking the daylights out of each other?”
“About that,” Sky said, scratching the back of her hand and refusing to look at Aubs. Her whiskey sour sat untouched beside her, and she’d ordered Aubrey a coffee porter, which she’d tipped back. “I fucked up. She told me how she felt and everything—that she was in this for keeps if I was, how she wanted to be my girlfriend, and I… couldn’t respond.”
Aubrey paused and placed her beer down with a clink on the countertop. “Skylar Christine Jenkins,” she said in her most imperious tone.
“My middle name is Meredith,” Sky muttered, running her fingers through her hair. A lecture would come, and Aubrey was the one who’d give it to her. She needed the tongue lashing, bad, which was why she’d called Aubs in the first place.
“Sky,” Aubs said, her voice quieter.
Sky snapped her head up in surprise to look at Aubrey—that hadn’t been the righteous indignation she’d expected.
“I’ve watched you keep every girl you dated at a distance for years. I’m not surprised the one who’s important, the one who already knows you—all of you—is the one you were going to push away. You’ve been grieving for a long time now, but did you ever really deal with it?”
Sky’s mouth dried. The school counselor sessions back then had been useless forced-positivity drivel that just made Sky angry. Her parents never wanted to talk about Jamie’s death, and neither had she.
Aubs leaned in, drawing her attention. “Look. I’ve got a great therapist I’ve been seeing for a while, and if you want, I can give you her info.” Aubrey never talked like this—they skated on the superficial.
Sky ran a hand through her hair. She’d considered therapy for years, but every time, the thought numbed her. The therapist would leave her feeling hollower, resurrecting her past. Except, when Mia spoke about Jamie on the anniversary—even though she’d cried, for once, the empty ache in her chest had eased.
If it meant maybe fixing some of the mess she’d made between her and Mia, she wanted to try.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” Sky said, her voice coming out hoarse. She took a sip of her whiskey sour, relishing the sweetness. The scent of rich beer, fragrant perfumes, and dark, treated wood wafted through the air, but she missed the scent of peaches more than ever.
“Good,” Aubs responded, slapping her palms on the table. “That aside, I’m invoking the Rehoboth Pact.”
Sky wrinkled her nose. This was what she knew would be coming.
Five years ago, when she, Aubrey, and Kyle began going on their yearly trip to Rehoboth, they made a deal with each other. All had stacked up a fair number of failed relationships, each shouldering their own damage, but if one of them ever found “the one” and tried to push her away, then the others would step in.
The Rehoboth Pact, a yearly talked about but never utilized deal… until now.
“Hey, I’m just excited to be able to invoke it—first time ever,” Aubs said, digging her elbows into the splintered surface of the bar. Hollers and shouts sounded all around them, everyone enjoying the group gatherings after so long spent away. None of their celebrations distracted her—Sky’s focus remained on Aubrey.
“After five seconds around the two of you, I could see Mia was your ‘one.’ And if you already know she feels the same way, then if you don’t go after her now, you’re going to carry this regret with you for the rest of your life,” Aubs said, her tone holding an iron edge. The woman could be scary as shit when she wanted to be. “Look, Sky. If I had the sort of connection you and Mia do, would I be hitting up someone new every time I come here? Hell no. Not everyone has the chance, and if you don’t take it, I’m going to break the chick code and swoop in to romance her myself.”
Even though Aubrey never would, the words ignited a fire inside her. The idea of Mia in someone else’s arms, falling asleep in someone else’s bed, sitting and sketching on quiet nights next to someone else, hell, she’d die.
“Don’t you dare,” Sky responded, even though there wasn’t any heat in her voice.
Aubs arched a brow. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I know what to do.” Sky heaved a sigh. She didn’t even need to question the next step, because she understood Mia Brownstone better than anyone else on the planet. She just hoped she hadn’t lost her chance.
“You know I’m following up with you, right?” Aubs commented, her brow still arched. “If a week passes and you haven’t gotten up off your ass to tell her how you feel, tick, tick, tick, doll. I’ll call her and get her into my bed that night.”
Sky lifted her middle finger, even though she caught the hint of a grin playing on Aubrey’s lips. The woman would do what was needed to provoke her, but at the end of the day, Aubrey always had loyalty on speed dial. Sky could trust her.
Just like she should’ve trusted Mia.
She sucked back the rest of her whiskey sour, the liquid burning the rest of the way. The glass’s thunk echoed as she slammed it onto the hardwood tabletop. “I think I’ll at least need another two or three before I work up the nerve to send the text.”
“I’ll grab the drinks tonight,” Aubrey said, “as long as you wingman for me later. Unlike you, who’s been getting some, I’ve been starving. And you tell anyone else I see a therapist and I’ll slit your throat. It’ll ruin my brand image of crazy, unstable, and loving it.”
Sky crossed her heart over her chest. “Secret’s safe with me.”
Aubs hopped up and sauntered over to the bar to order more drinks. Sky leaned back in her seat and stared at the ceiling. Her chest wound tighter than ever, but she’d find a way to get the words out, even if the idea shocked her system like a springtime blizzard. Aubrey wasn’t wrong—she regretted letting Mia leave that day without saying something—anything back.
Even if Mia turned her down and fractured her heart, or even more terrifying—if she wanted her, broken pieces and all—she had stayed silent for too long.
Sky couldn’t keep living in this limbo any longer.