Page 66 of The Goode Girls of Maple Lane
She hands the phone back with the message unsent.
“You should probably do the last bit yourself,” she says. “When you’re ready.”
I nod again, afraid speaking will unleash more tears. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. How is anyone ready to sever a relationship that has fundamentally changed them? But as I stare at my phone with my thumb hovering over Send, Aggie stirs, craning around to look at me over her shoulder. Maybe I was petting a sore spot on her hip. Maybe she randomly grew restless. But I swear, as her big brown eyes meet mine and her brows twitch in the way I love so much, she’s telling me she understands what it means to do hard things. She’s telling me to be brave.
I hit Send.
Within seconds the reply comes.
EVERETT:I’ll leave right after my last meeting and be home by 4
“Okay?” Hannah asks.
“Okay,” I say, and will it to be so.
Chapter Twenty-Six
At 3:45, Hannah ties my spare keys onto her running shoe, zips up her reflective jacket, and steps into the hall, earbuds in and ready to run a zillion miles.
“Call anytime.” She taps her phone where it’s strapped to her arm, cued up with her high-adrenaline playlist. “Otherwise, I’ll run for two hours and aim to be back around six.”
I shake my head at her, incredulous. Two hours. If she was anyone else, I’d suspect her of spending half that time parked at a coffee shop, sipping a latte. But she isn’t anyone else.
“Thank you again for being here,” I say. “And also, I guess, for not being here?”
She laughs, and I almost laugh, though I’m too keyed up to do more than muddle a smile.
“You’ll be okay?” she asks.
“Maybe not tonight, but eventually.”
“It’s good to have goals.” She envelops me in a warm hug and I squeeze her tight.
As we step back from each other, Khalil’s door opens and hewheels his bike out, halting as he sees us. Hannah spins toward him and she goes still, too.
“Hi,” he says, still frozen.
“Hi,” she says, equally rapt.
“Are you—”
“Yeah. And you’re—”
“Yep.” He does a quick scan of her appearance. “Are you about to—”
“Yeah.” She gestures at his bike. “You?”
“Uh-huh. Any chance you want—”
“Please. Yes. If my pace is okay.”
“Mine’s... whatever.”
“As in fast?”
“As in happy to pace you.”
“But that’s—”
