Page 73 of The Triple Play

“I’m in Atlanta for a few days. You’d know that if you’d actually checked your texts, Ans.”

“Shit.”

“I’ll be over in, like, an hour.”

————

Zoe was already in my apartment when I shuffled out of my bedroom. She’d let herself in with the spare key I had completely forgotten I’d given to her two years ago, her floral suitcase half unzipped by the door, and two grocery bags on my kitchen counter in between the mess I’d left behind. Her dark, tight curls were up, her deep brown skin looked almost grey in the too-low light, and her athleisure get-up was almost obnoxious — but I couldn’t deny that it felt like a breath of fresh air to see her.

“You’re here,” I mumbled, my voice rough from my sad attempt at a nap which had just consisted of my staring at the ceiling for the last hour and trying not to cry.

She turned around, her lips going downturned the moment she saw me. “Annie. Babe. You look like a ghost got beat up.”

“I feel worse than that.”

Zoe crossed the room in an instant, wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace that made my chest ache. I didn’t flinch, just stood there, letting her warmth bleed into my freezing body, taking the much-needed hug after not seeing her for months.

She pulled back, looked me over, and pursed her lips into a hard line. “You shouldn’t have ignored my texts.”

“I didn’t know what to say, Zo.”

She sighed dramatically. “You could’ve started with, ‘Hey! You’re coming home for a few days? I’m spiraling, please bring me a bagel.’”

I tried to smile. I wanted to.

She moved back to the kitchen and started unpacking the groceries like she was taking up residence here. Bananas, crackers, port wine cheese, eggs, the aforementioned bagels, cream cheese. I dropped onto the couch and pulled my knees up, Xavi’s zip-up’s sleeves bunched in my fists.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on or do I need to pry it out of you?” she asked, glancing at me over her shoulder.

I swallowed, my throat raw. “I went over to my dad’s two weeks ago.”

Zoe turned to face me, her hand frozen around a bottle of fancy ginger ale. “Well, that’s always a bad idea.”

“He found out about the road trip,” I sighed. “And about the guys.”

Zoe blinked and set the ginger ale down gently before shoving the fridge door closed, abandoning her mission altogether and walking over toward me. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, her brows creasing as she plonked down on the couch beside me. “All of it?”

I nodded, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead. “He knew their names, which I know isn’t crazy when they’re NHL but he knew exactly which guys from the Fire I was with. He checkedflight logsto see where I’d traveled, every stop. I don’t even know how he fucking did that,” I said, scrubbing my forehead with the sleeve. “He knew I was sleeping with them. All three of them. And he told me I needed to stop, said he’d cut off my trust if I didn’t, almost called me a whore.”

Zoe’s eyes widened as she stared at me. “That’s psychotic.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “He means it, about the trust. Moved it to a different bank and everything. Gave me a card that he can cut off at any point.”

“Oh mygod.” Her hand covered her mouth, her knee bouncing off the side of the couch. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to give in to him.”

I bit my lip.

“Annie, no, you’re just showing him he still has power over you.”

“I can’t just lose my trust,” I said. “I can’t.”

“No,no. Your mom would rather you behappythan have that stupid trust, you know that. And I haven’t heard you anywhere near as happy as you were in LA in my entire life.” Her voice was calm, but her words were almost biting, a challenge to my thought process.

“You can’t just say that when you have two parents. Mom might want that for me, but I don’t want to havenothingleft of her,” I choked. I shook my head, trying to find the words. “I haven’t seen the guys in almost two weeks. I haven’t been to work. I can’t fucking think, can’t pick up my guitar. I feel like I can’t breathe without thinking about them, but then every time Idolet myself think about them, I just hear Dad’s voice telling me what a disgrace I am. I can’t win here?—”

My stomach churned out of nowhere, nausea surging unexpectedly, and I blinked, cutting myself off.

It surged again, and I knew I needed to move. I stood abruptly, my head dizzy from the sudden shift and lack of nutrient-rich food when I’d basically been living off McDonald’s chicken nuggets, and ran for the bathroom.

---