Page 164 of Before We're More Than Friends
The boys had barely texted me—they hoped Mom would be okay, but they’d said nothing else. Sienna had texted me more, but I was still upset with her—with the boys, too, but more specifically with her because she’d been my best friend first—fornot letting me know what was going on. That storm was the lowest on the list of problems for now.
“Oh, gosh,” Mom said once I finished, her eyes wide. “That’s a lot to unpack.”
“We need a freaking airplane for it,” I muttered. “I have no idea what to do about anything. I feel like everything is out of my control but still my fault, even the things I didn’t mess up myself.” Maybe it was my OCD, or maybe it was normal to feel this way when everything had gone wrong. I wouldn’t know.
“How do I make things right with everyone?” I asked. “How do I fix at least some of this mess?”
“There’s no guarantee that it can be fixed,” Mom said as she put her hand on mine, her touch warm. “But you can apologize to everyone and try to make things right. If they don’t accept it, that’s something for them to deal with.”
“I wish there were something I could do to fix everything.” I rubbed my finger along the diamonds on her wedding ring. “If I work hard enough, if I try to be better?—”
“The best you can give is your best, Raina.” She sighed, brushing the hair out of my eyes. “I wish my best were better than what it is, but I do what I can. Apologize and mean it.”
“But I don’t want to keep making the same mistakes. I don’t want to be . . .”Like you and Dad. I knew the words were too hurtful to say out loud, but I could tell from the way Mom’s face pinched that she knew where I was getting at.
“I believe in your best, Raina,” she said softly. “And I love you at your worst.”
I offered her a smile, my insides warming. “I love you too, Mom.” I gave her a hug. “And I hope we’ll see each other at our best again.”
I spent all afternoon talking to Mom. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d talked for so long. Despite the heaviness that weighed in the house, I had such a fun time with her.
Before dinner, I knocked on Arielle’s door, hoping she’d give me a chance to talk with her. Was she still on good terms with the others? Was she still upset with Hayden?
Had she been crying while wrapped in her sheets like I had?
To my surprise, I heard her mutter, “Come in.” I opened the door to see her sitting on her bed, tissues waded up at her feet. That answered my question.
“I just wanted to apologize,” I said, sitting on one of her pink chairs. “For Tuesday night. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.”
She sighed. “I forgive you.”
“Really?” That had come easily. The Arielle I knew took a while to drop her grudges. If she ever did.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said flatly.
“Sorry, but I expected you to be mad at me for at least a full week.”
“Please.” Her eyes locked with mine, her gaze heavy. “I’m sorry, too. I understand why you were upset about Mrs. Naysmith bringing flowers.” She stroked her long waves. “But you were also right about how it’s no different than how I treat Mom.” She studied a painting of a Pink Rose butterfly on the pink wall, one that Mom had bought her when she was little. “I hadn’t realized it until you said it. Mom isn’t perfect, but sometimes I’m harsher on her than I need to be. She’s battling something challenging I don’t fully understand.”
“She is.” I gave her a sad smile. “And thank you.”
She extended her arms, and I went over to her bed to hug her. I lost my balance and fell on top of her wads of tissues. I shrieked before throwing one off my arm, which landed inArielle’s lap. We both laughed and resumed our hug, tears burning in my eyes.
We hadn’t always been best friends, but I knew that whatever storm came our way, we’d get through it together.
There wasn’t anything I wanted to face without my other half.
After dinner, I tried contacting all my friends. While Sienna and the boys answered their texts, Gracelynn left me on delivered. Guess it’d take much longer for her to forgive me.
All that was left for now was to deal with Dallas.
Gosh, it was terrible to have my own boyfriend mad at me. Was this how he felt when I’d spent that week pissed off at him?
Was he still even my boyfriend?
With my blood pumping in my ears, I shot him a text.
Raina
