Page 26 of Huckleberry Hill
“No. I haven’t been able to talk about it—until now. They know there’s more to my breakup than I’m letting on. They’re not stupid.”
“No, they’re not. You’re also a terrible liar. You know how I knew something deeper was going on? You didn’t drink,” she said. “When you drink you get loose-lipped. I should’ve gotten you schnockered and then you would’ve spilled the beans.”
“I’m afraid to drink,” I admitted. “Because what if I drink and then start crying?”
“Crying is okay. Crying is cathartic.”
“Says the girl who hasn’t cried in years.”
“I prefer breaking dishes to crying. Anger is better. Anger is the fuel for change.”
“If I was going to drink, I’d want to drink with you, Wyn and Poet. You guys . . . you make me feel safe, you know?”
“I know,” she murmured.
“Don’t tell them,” I said. “I’m not ready for them to—I’m still coming to grips with it.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Just be you.”
“Whew, I thought you were going to ask me something hard,” she teased. Her tone changed. “I’m sorry, Hadley. About the news.”
“Yeah.” Tears prickled my eyes. “Me too.”
There was a murmur of conversation on the other end followed by Salem saying, “I’m sorry, Hadley. I gotta get to that meeting. I’ll talk to you tonight.”
“Thanks, twin.”
“Any time.”
I hung up with my sister, missing her more than ever. I was glad she knew the truth. But I was coated in shame. Shame that my fiancé had left me because I wasn’t perfect.
I’m broken.
I hoisted myself off the bed and went to shower. And before I curled up in my childhood bed, I peeked through the curtains of the window, wondering if the dark-haired cowboy biker was the leaving type.
Chapter Six
The Ranch
* * *
My phone vibrated, waking me. I reached for it on the nightstand, wondering who could possibly be calling me.
I looked at the time and realized it was 7 p.m. on the East Coast and my catnap had turned into a three-hour-long coma.
I pressed the answer button. Salem and Poet’s faces filled the screen.
“We woke her up,” Poet said as she pushed up the black glasses on her nose.
“Hey there, sleepy head,” Salem joked. “You ready for our four-way?”
“Can I stay in this exact position?” I asked, my face smushed into the pillow.
“Fine by me,” Salem said. “Hang on, Wyn’s calling in.”
My other roommate’s face appeared in the corner. She had a glass of wine in her hand and her blonde hair was in a messy top bun. “Okay, I’m here.”
