Page 90 of The Way We Fell

I open the door to find Ruth with her fist raised, poised mid-strike. It’s been ten days since we fought.

“He’s the one thing that’s mine.”

Jay isn’t something to own, but I know exactly what Ruth means. I also know it’s not entirely true. I know things with her cowboy are getting serious, that she has him now, too. But I also know she’s hurting. My best friend, my vibrant, confident, self-assured Roo, looks lost and world-weary, in old jeans and an oversized sweater, worn out Converse on her feet, on my doorstep with tear tracks down her face. She hasn’t worn those shoes since we were in university. After we graduated, she ditched the torn canvas pumps for something more corporate-friendly and never looked back.

Ruth has always been the grown up in our little family. She’s the one who has all the practical solutions. She’s pragmatic and logical. She’s loud and filter-free. She’s never been afraid of anything in the sixteen years we’ve known each other.

But right now, she looks like the world is on her shoulders, and it’s crumbling. I take two hesitant steps toward her before reaching out and pulling her into my arms, heedless of her resistance.

“He’ll always be yours,” I say, resting my chin on her shoulder. “He adores you, Roo.”

After a long, still moment, she lifts her arms to hug me back, and the tension leaves my body in a way that has my knees buckling. We’re holding each other up in the tiny vestibule of my hallway, and when her arms squeeze around me and her shaky breathing begins to even out, mine does too, and I think we might be okay.

“Is it serious?” She pulls away, searching my face.

It’s serious. Jay Bevan has never been anything but, for me. He was never just a casual fuck, a one night of fun to scratch an itch. He’s something that grew, a shy smile turned into a grin turned into the hand I wanted to hold all night, all day, all my life. He’s the calm to my storm, my angel and devil all at once. He pushes me and he grounds me; he gives and expects nothing—but he makes me want to give everything in return.

When we’re together, our love is an inferno raging out of control, but the way he holds me afterwards is the first sun of spring. It’s the kind that thaws, that melts the ice and wakes everything anew.

“I love him,” I say, simply. I don’t know what else to say. There is nothing else. There is me and Jay, and I have fallen head over heels, completely and utterly, irrevocably in love with him.

“Okay,” Ruth says at last. “Okay.”

She holds me at arm’s length for a moment, still searching my tear-stained face with stricken brown eyes, and then backs out of my house, closing the door behind her with a gentleclick. This time, I don’t fall against the door. I’m still for a beat, exhaling a long, slow breath, and then I move with purpose. Something else has taken over, and I can’t fight it. I think it’s hope.

I walk first to the kitchen, to dump my coffee into the sink, then to turn off the string lights in the living room. I push my feet into my favourite trainers, stuff my earbuds into my ears and my phone in my jacket pocket, shrug the jacket on, and follow Ruth’s path out the door, locking it behind me and tucking my running key, on a small key ring of its own, into the pocket of my leggings.

I hadn’t planned on coming out for a run today. I chose my sports bra and leggings attire more out of comfort than practicality, but after Ruth’s visit, pounding pavement seems like the perfect way to organise my thoughts. I set my phone to the playlist Amie sent me, and I let her favourite pop-punk soundtrack dictate my pace down to the river and along its banks.

I run aimlessly, with no destination in mind, until I find myself breathing heavily, leaning against the wall and pressing hard on the buzzer at Ruth’s door. After a moment, the door unlocks with a click and I let myself in, taking my time to climb the stairs and catch my breath. I never set out this morning with the intention of winding up at Ruth’s flat, but something in my subconscious brought me here anyway. Something knew I wasn’t ready for our conversation to be over yet.

Ruth is in the doorway of her flat when I reach the top of the last flight. Her arms are wrapped around her torso, and she’s changed out of the oversized sweater she wore earlier when she was on my doorstep. Her white tee is covered with a chunky knit camel-coloured cardigan, and her feet are bare, showing off freshly-pedicured black-painted toenails.

We stare at each other for a long moment before she steps aside, closing the door behind me. I perch on the edge of her sofa. Her home still looks the same as it always did. It still smells the same, too, although with the addition of some kind of delicious, savoury spice coming from the kitchen, where I can see a yellow light glowing in the oven. Ruth stands opposite me, arms still folded protectively across her body.

“You love him.” She doesn’t ask. There’s acceptance in the way she whispers. A tear tracks its way down my face, and it matches the one that falls down hers, too. The one that looks like she might finally understand what Jay and I have been trying to tell her.

“I really do, Roo. I’m sorry I—”

“Please don’t.” She interrupts me with a whisper, holding up her hand. “I don’t need details. I don’t need apologies. I just… promise me you’ll take care of him, K.”

“With everything I have, Roo. I promise.” I sniff loudly, and Ruth does the same. She falls forward, landing on her knees in front of me, flinging her arms around me. I slip down to meet her on the floor, wrapping her in my arms and burying my nose in her shiny hair.

“I’m sorry, Katy.”

“I know, Roo. Me too.”

Her vanilla perfume is comforting, the same as it’s always been, and it makes a little spark come to life in my belly. Maybe, with everything out in the open, we can be the same as we’ve always been, too.

Chapter forty-seven

Jay

Ithoughtaweighthad lifted from my shoulders when I heard Katy tell me she loved me. But it was nothing compared to the lightness I felt yesterday when Ruth texted me for the first time in ten days.

We still haven’t talked properly—just a few texts here and there between her Zoom meetings for work and my work at the casino—but I’ll see her tomorrow for another fajita night. She’s invited us all—me and Katy, Amie, Cam, and Paloma—but just knowing that she doesn’t hate me, that she’s talking to me again, is everything. And she and Katy are mending their fences, too. Katy has a brighter aura, a wild and carefree attitude to just about everything, now that there are no more secrets weighing her down. Weighingusdown.

Katy meets me at her front door wearing that same pink dress she wore for my birthday, and I stifle a moan. Wide shoulder straps drop to a low neckline, showing her ample cleavage before hugging every single fucking curve of her body and ending at her knees. It’s like the dress was made just for her. My dick twitches in my pants, desperate to see the pink material pooled on her bedroom floor rather than hugging those sinful hips. But I grab those hips and pull her to me, talking my dick out of making a scene and locking my eyes with Katy’s brown ones.

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