Page 56 of Never Really Over

“I just want what’s best for her.”

“Or him.”

“Or her,” she argues back.

“Remember they said the ultrasound wasn’t conclusive. You could be cooking mini Dalton or mini Bridget in there.”

“Please God, bring us a girl,” I say to the ceiling.

“Right? The world is not prepared for a second Dalton.”

“I’m right here, you know. A little offended, too.”

We all laugh. He’s not at all offended. He already told us he agreed.

The rest of the meal is centered around Bridget’s pregnancy, how she’s feeling, what she’s craving, how she’s really hoping to find a house before the baby comes because she doesn’t want to keep living with Dalton’s parents. She doesn’t seem to mind talking about it but I can tell that Dalton’s ready to dive into the reason why I got drunk last night.

It’s not that I never drink, but last night was definitely a stretch for me.

Once we’ve finished eating and cleaned up, he holds out his hand to me.

“Ready?”

My answer is shaking my head but grabbing his hand anyway.

“Let’s go sit outside on the porch.”

“Do we have to?”

He doesn’t answer me, he just pulls me behind him. We settle into the patio chairs and their thick cushions. I tuck my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my cheek on my knees, looking at Dalton.

“Time to share?” I ask.

He nods, sitting back in the chair, legs spread. He’s comfortable, casual. Happy.

Moving back to Hollow Grove looks good on him. He wasn’t this way in Chicago. It’s probably why since we’ve both come back, we’ve gotten closer. In Chicago, our friendship was different. It was all about the weekends and how we would spend our time. Superficial stuff. But since he moved back, he’s changed. He went from being this immature party boy to a man.

Maybe it’s Bridget’s influence and not Hollow Grove, but something tells me it’s a combination of the two.

“You told me that Colt and I would never be over, but you’re wrong.”

He doesn’t say anything, just listens.

“I said some things that were mean. I kind of made fun of him and our old friends,” I admit. “I didn’t mean it, but you know, the words were there so I think some part of me did. He’s broken, though. I see it in his eyes. Natalie’s death broke him. Missy told me as much.”

“I thought the same when I went over there. He doesn’t look like the same Colt.”

“No. I suppose he probably isn’t the same Colt, though. A lot of years have passed. And now I know exactly what he thinks of me. He called me a snob, which was accurate with the things I was saying, and I don’t know… there was just this, pain in his eyes that I know I put there. And not just from saying things that were rude, it was deep hurt.”

“You saying mean things isn’t like you at all, Layla. And I don’t think that’s what sent you to drink yourself silly last night.”

I bite my lip.

“Out with it. Let me be your friend, Layla,” he begs, shaking my knee and making me laugh. “Besides, I need to know how you even heard all this from Colt yesterday. Start at the beginning.”

“Fine. Yesterday I went to Missy’s and had coffee with her and Jenna. They told me that when I left, Colt went downhill big time. He was going down a bad path, according to them. Drinking a lot, angry at the world, sleeping around. It took him a long time to get back to himself. No one told me.”

“No one told you because you cut ties with everyone,” he reminds me gently.

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