Page 86 of Sloane

But truth be told, I appreciated that he wasn’t pussyfooting around the obvious.

“And she who shall not be named, sent you…” He grinned and put his hand back in the bag like it was Santa’s sack, then pulled out a bundle of grey and black fleece socks with grips on the bottom. “Some socks to keep your foot warm.”

I didn’t miss that he said “foot” instead of “feet”.

He continued his stand-up routine. “I guess on the bright side, you’ll be able to go twice as long without washing your socks.”

Even though I grumbled, “You’re such a dick,” I did it with a slight grin.

“She also sent you…” This time he pulled out a plastic container. “Your favorite. Cheesecake.”

Talk about a sucker punch. I couldn’t smell her perfume or taste her dessert.

It was probably just as well.

I must have frowned, because Ryan put the container down and said, “What? Since when isn’t it your favorite?”

“Since I lost my sense of smell, and everything tastes like shit.”

“Dude… that sucks.” But instead of finally joining me in my pity party, he shrugged. “I can eat it for you.”

“I still have a good fist, you know.”

“Yeah,” he smirked. “But you’d have to catch me first.”

“Asshole,” I snarled under my breath.

He waved a familiar pink envelope at me.

“She also sent a letter.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t want it.”

That was such a lie. I wanted it with every cell of my being. Just like I wanted her. But I couldn’t have her. Not anymore.

His face grew grim, and his voice serious.

“You need to call her and talk to her. Clear the air, once and for all. If you’re serious about ending things, you owe it to her to at least tell her over the phone, not just ghost her like a little bitch.”

That pissed me off, which I suspected was his intention. I might be legless and disfigured, but I was not a coward.

At least I liked to think I wasn’t. But just as I was about to say with bravado, “Get me a phone,” the little voice in the back of my head asked, “And say what?”

Finally, I confessed with a whisper, “I don’t know what to say to her, Ryan. She deserves better, but I know if I try to tell her that, she won’t listen.”

“Because she loves you, dumbass.”

“She needs to move on.”

My friend shrugged with a sad smile. “Then tell her that. She deserves to hear it from you.”

His cell phone rang. “Oh, hey. Speak of the devil.”

I narrowed my eyes to glare at him. “You planned this.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Man up, buttercup,” then said, “hello?” into the phone.

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