Page 11 of Too Safe

She traces the stitching of her duvet and sighs. “Four years ago.”

“Hunter,” I gasp, my heart plummeting for her. “I’m so sorry. That’s the shittiest shit I’ve ever heard.”

So much for reserving judgment.

I backtrack again, toeing the line of indignant outrage and supportive friend. I hope. “Is she okay? Have you seen her?”

“She’s fine,” Hunter scoffs. “She FaceTimes on holidays. And she’s always posting on social media. I spent the first two years after high school trying to track her down and meet up in Europe. I’m almost embarrassed to admit that it took me that long to realize she was avoidingmejust as much as she was avoiding her own life.”

“That really sucks,” I lament.

She sits up, then turns to face me. “It really does.”

“And Greedy?”

From their interaction downstairs, it’s obvious there’s more to his story.

Hunter presses her lips together, and for a moment, she looks like she’s fighting back tears. With a scrunch of her nose, the expression passes. Then she meets my gaze and subtly shakes her head.

I get it. We’ve only known each other for a week. So rather than harp on the issue, I share something about myself. This is what friends do, right? It’s okay if she doesn’t want to spill her heart out to me. I still don’t want her to feel alone.

“My mom was absent for a lot of my childhood, too,” I admit. “Although she wasn’t in Europe. She could be found trading out food stamps for booze and closing down the local bar.”

“I’m sorry,” she offers simply.

“Me, too.”

There’s a sad neutrality that comes with having to raise oneself. Knowing we have this in common makes me feel more connected to Hunter. She may lead a charmed life, but she’s proof that not everything gilded is golden.

“Okay, enough sad girl mama drama,” she declares, rising to her feet. “There’s a party tonight, and I booked facials for us this afternoon. You in?”

I grimace and consider lying, but Hunter has been so honest with me. She deserves the same in return.

“I doubt I can afford a facial right now, but I’ll definitely tag along.”

“Joey,” she admonishes. “I already told you. It’s my treat!”

Ugh. I don’t want her to think I’m using her. And I don’t want to make a habit of letting her pay my way. But she’s already booked appointments for us, and it’s obvious that what she really wants is to get out of this house.

“Okay. But just this once,” I tell her. “And you have to let me do your makeup for the party to repay you.”

“Perf. I was already planning to ask you to since yours is always flawless.”

Hunter parks along the street in a quaint little downtown area, then breezes into the med spa like she owns the place. The waiting room is pearly white, save for the vibrant green grass wall behind the front desk. A hot pink neon sign readsLake Chapel Radiance, and new-age music plays softly in the waiting room.

“Checking in?” a receptionist asks.

Hunter handles the details while I look around. Near the edge of the reception desk is a brochure and price list, but I can’t bring myself to investigate how much a place like this charges.

But next to the brochure stand is something I’m much more interested in looking into. It’s a sign that readsHelp Wanted.

I not-so-patiently wait for Hunter to finish chatting, then catch the receptionist’s eye.

“Are you hiring?” I ask, pointing to the sign.

She gives me an appraising once-over. “We are. Have you ever worked in the beauty industry?” she asks with a saccharine smile.

Hunter steps back up to the desk, shoulder to shoulder with me, and takes it upon herself to answer. “Joey has her cosmetology license and years of salon experience.”

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