Page 224 of Story of My Life
“You made it seem like we couldn’t do anything without you. Like the business was failing because you weren’t here. Like youcould have prevented Laura’s…situation,” Gage said, waving a hand toward the wheelchair.
“I’m the oldest. It’s my job to protect you losers,” I insisted.
“Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean you’re the only one capable of protecting shit,” Gage said.
Levi offered him a silent fist bump.
“Fine. So I fucked things up with Hazel. Larry wants to go back to work. And Gigi thinks I’m an overbearing narcissist. What’s your problem, Livvy?”
We all turned to look at Levi.
“I didn’t fucking shoot up the barn with paintballs, and I’m still pissed about getting blamed for it.”
48
WEEKEND AT BERNIED
HAZEL
I don’t wantto be social,” I whined as Zoey dragged me toward the Fish Hook.
The Saturday night weather had finally tipped in favor of fall, so I was dressed in the jeans and sweater she had picked out for me. The jeans were made for standing, and the neckline of the dusky-blue top showed an excessive amount of cleavage for a woman who had to be pried away from her laptop and out of her favorite writing sweatpants an hour earlier.
It was a Saturday night, which to me was another excellent reason to stay home and mope. For two weeks, I’d avoided my own house between the hours of 7:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. Progress was happening fast and furious in the house and on the page.
In a fit of tortured inspiration, I’d gotten my characters to the fight and the third act breakup. I’d borrowed heavily from real life, which meant I’d written myself into a corner. Because the “hero” was an unredeemable dumbass and there was no grand gesture grand enough to warrant forgiveness. But I was toying with the idea of toning down his dumbassedness to find a way through…fictionally, of course.
While I waited for some fresh source of inspiration, I’d been spending quality time with readers on social media and shopping online for house necessities like the gargoyle bookends that were coming Tuesday.
“Tough shit,” Zoey said, holding the glass door open for me. “It’s all part of the I’m Fine Tour.”
I scoffed. “I don’t feel fine.” I didn’t love being Negative Nellie, but the comforting familiarity of crotchetiness was like an old cozy sweater. Once I wrapped myself up in it, I didn’t want to take it off.
“The important thing is that you look like you’re fine.”
“Right, because appearances are the priority.”
“You know exactly how shitty it is to run into an ex on a bad day instead of in peak revenge form,” she pointed out.
“Is hehere?” My feet froze to the ground. I’d rather face a cold speculum and a drafty exam room at the gynecologist than see Campbell Bishop in person right now.
“Of course not,” she huffed. “Besides, I have good news, and you’re my best friend. You’re contractually obligated to celebrate with me.”
“Your cousin didn’t clog your toilet and flood the apartment under yours?”
“No, she definitely did that. But no matter how hard you try, you’re not bringing me down.”
We skipped the host stand and went straight to the bar, which was pretty crowded by Story Lake standards.
A cheer went up, and I turned around, looking for the reason. But there was no one behind me. I was checking the TV screens for some sports ball victory when someone shouted, “Lookin’ good, Hazel!”
There were more applause, a few wolf whistles, and several smiles directed my way. I spotted Laura and Sunita waving to us from a table.
“Um. Thank you?” I said, smoothing a hand over my sweater. “Why is everyone applauding me?” I hissed out of the corner of my mouth.
“Because they’re Team Hazel.” Zoey punched her fist in the air.
“Team Hazel!” the bar responded enthusiastically.
