Page 27 of PS: I Hate You

“Come on. I smell really good.” He coaxes, arms wide as he steps into my home and kicks the door shut behind him.

Cautiously, I shuffle into his hold and allow myself to be engulfed.

And damn, Carlisle knows how to pick a cologne. I bury my head against the soft material over Jeremy’s chest, suck in a deep breath, and imagine a heated comforter transformed itself into my personal hugging machine.

“We would’ve come. You know that, right?” Jeremy murmurs the words against my hair, breaking the illusion.

Guilt condenses in my gut as I sigh and step back. He doesn’t fight me, letting his arms drop to his sides.

“You didn’t need to.” I don’t know what I would’ve done if Jeremy and my other best friend, Tula, had shown up and tried to coddle me. Maybe I would have broken and finally shed some tears. Or maybe I would have watched their faces crease in concerned confusion as I hid and snarked and never cried.

At the time, I didn’t understand what Josh’s death was doing to me.

I still don’t.

And I’m not doing any of the things normal grieving sisters are supposed to do. In fact, the only times I’ve felt relief, brief as it was, were the moments I berated Dom.

Hell, it felt so good to tear into that immovable man. To spew my inappropriate humor all over him and only receive his stoic responses in return.

I could never treat Jeremy and Tula like punching bags. They’ve done zero to deserve that, and I’m terrified my messed-up grief will drive them away.

“I know I didn’t need to,” Jeremy says, reaching out to gently tuga strand of hair that’s fallen out of my messy bun. “But I would have come. For you. So you didn’t have to be alone. Especially at the funeral.”

“There were plenty of people there…Wait. How did you…” I trail off as my face flushes with mortification.

The day after Josh passed away, I texted Jeremy and Tula with the news and told them I’d be gone for a few days. But I didn’t tell them about the funeral. If I had, Iknewthey both would’ve come.

“I looked up your mom’s blog,” he says, grimace twisting his handsome face. “I wanted to make sure she wasn’t dragging you into her influencer bullshit.”

As I walk into my kitchen area, I can feel his frown like a press against my shoulder blades. “I kept my distance. And I didn’t stay at the funeral long. Just went to say hi to some old friends.” Adam and Carter pop into my mind, and I smile at thoughts of the twins. I found them on Instagram, DMed them both for their phone numbers, and now we have a group chat set up. Adam is the most active one on it, mainly sending GIFs and random videos updating us on his life.

“What did you do after the funeral?”

I fumble with a jar of jam, almost dropping the glass container, but manage to catch it at the last second. “Nothing much. Went to a bar. Toasted Josh. Spent the night in my hotel room.”

No need to mention who was at the bar with me and how I ended up at a random hotel after repeating past mistakes.

Jeremy settles on my couch. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

I’m makeup-less with my hair in a messy bun, wearing my normal at-home uniform of leggings and an engulfing fisherman sweater that I pretend Chris Evans gave me from his personal closet. Not red-carpet ready or even done up for a night out on the town.

But Jeremy knows how much I love my sweaters. He would never disparage them. This is his attempt at making me feel better.

“I’m only baking the Brie. Not giving you all my cheese,” I warnhim instead of responding to the compliment. What do I say anyway?

Grief combined with embarrassment does wonders for my pores, apparently.

“Baked Brie is all anyone needs in the world.” Jeremy leans over my coffee table, studying my latest puzzle in progress. He picks up a random piece and tries to notch it into place, failing.

“That should go there,” he mutters.

I pinch my lips together to keep my smile at bay. Jeremy is wonderful at running marathons, singing karaoke, and managing the media relations of the largest university in the city. But he’s horrible at puzzles.

And being in a romantic relationship with me. But I was bad at being in one with him, too, so fair is fair.

Having him as one of my best friends is better, especially since falling for the sexy dentist in 2F hasn’t stopped him from wandering up to my apartment to demand the elaborate charcuterie boards Carlisle refuses to make for him. I can always be counted on to have an array of cheese.

I set a baking sheet on the counter and line it with parchment paper.

---