Page 41 of Unstoppable Love

A meat and cheese board was set out. Crackers and dips. She’d set out the new dishware and wineglasses I’d ordered from Pottery Barn.

“Hey,” she said quietly, like I was the frailest piece of crystal and could shatter with a raised voice.

She wasn’t that far off.

I flinched when I reached into the fridge for water. Visions of what had happened in that exact same spot only hours ago assaulted me, and I turned my back to the fridge, facing Lydia and the narrow island now filled with food.

Food that was not in my kitchen that very morning.

“Did you leave?” I asked, and my throat was still a raspy, scratchy mess, so I opened the water and chugged it all.

“No. I called Jeff at the store. He ran some things over when he got off work.”

Lydia’s cousin was older than us and helped her mom manage the grocery store after her dad died last year. “That was nice of him.”

“You want to talk? Or sit out back and drink?”

I wanted to crawl back into my bed or find a time machine. Go back in time twelve hours. Better yet, go back eight years.

“Drink,” I told her.

Lydia poured wine, I filled a plate with food even though my stomach hurt so bad I wasn’t sure how I’d get any of it down without it coming straight back up, and we headed out to the backyard.

My dad had been right. I loved the little plot of land I had all to myself. A privacy fence left it feeling cozy, and the previous owners had done wonders with the space for gardens and both a pear and apple tree that would give me more fruit than I’d know what to do with. First chance I had, I’d run to the hardware store and bought a small seating area with a table, so I slid onto the loveseat and set my plate on the cushion next to me.

The sun was setting. Dang. I really had slept all day.

Lydia joined me, set my glass of wine in front of me, and I leaned forward to take it. Resting back, I pulled my feet up to the edge of the couch cushion and hugged the glass of wine in the space between my chest and thighs.

Birds chirped. Frogs croaked. Lightning bugs started to light up throughout the yard. The wind rustled. Lydia munched on crackers, and I was on my second glass of wine before I set my cheek to my knees and faced her.

She was on her phone, face hidden behind her strawberry blonde curls, playing a game of some sort based on the flashing lights. She hadn’t left my side all day. She’d rushed to me as soon as she heard I needed her.

I’d never thank Cameron for calling her. It was his fault I needed it, but I was damn glad he’d done it.

I turned in her direction and pressed my cheek to my knees. “I love you.”

She hit a button on her phone and blackened the screen, setting it at her side. “Love you too. You’re the sister I never had.”

“He never forgot that night.” My chin wobbled as I said it. We’d already known it, but maybe, just maybe, I’d hoped he was talking about something different. Something that wouldn’t have shattered my heart like his admission earlier.

“Why?” she asked. “Did he say why? Why he, well, why he did every stupid thing after?”

I nodded. My chin was trembling again, and I’d been so sure I was out of tears, but there they were again, making everything go blurry.

I squeezed my eyes closed and sniffed, shoved my head into the back of the couch, and stared up at the sky.

And then I told Lydia everything. I retold her everything he said—everything I could remember anyway—but there were certain points I was certain I’d already blocked out.

I cried through the retelling, scrubbed tears off my cheeks when I got to the end, and I got so mad I finally chomped on a cracker to expel some of my anger.

A cracker wasn’t nearly enough, but angrily eating prosciutto and Wheat Thins helped some.

She was silent for several moments after.

“I need more wine,” she finally said.

While she climbed out of her chair and headed inside, I brought my plate to my lap.

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