Page 7 of When Sky Breaks

“You know that answer,” I say dryly.

“Don’t you think it’s time to quit avoiding him?”

“Why would I? It’s not like he can go back in time and change anything.” I huff and cross my arms like a petulant child.

Phoebe thinks the only reason I won’t talk to Trek is because he knew my mom was with August’s parents the night of the fire and didn’t tell me. It’s not the entire truth, but enough, and she never questioned it.

However, I refuse to tell her he reaches out weekly, but she probably already knows. He leaves me voicemails, random texts, and sends memes over social media that I try my fucking best not to laugh at. I never answer them, but he doesn’t stop. He even sends packages every once in a while. They’re all shoved in the back of my closet. Unopened.

She shrugs, eyes on my carpet, pulling at the hem of her cropped sweatshirt. “Just think maybe you should talk to him.”

“Do you talk to him?”

The way her hand whips to her hip is comical. “Don’t act all surprised. We were friends, too. And yes, what he did was shitty. I’m not defending him. But I worry. It’s like you’re writing off everyone who cares.”

“I’m not ready, Phoebs.” Not sure I’ll ever be ready.

“Okay, I get it, I really do. But when is anyone ever ready for anything? Crappy conversations are still going to be crappy, no matter when you have them.”

“Is that how you’ll talk to your clients on the stand?” I smirk, initiating the art of deflection I’ve gotten so good at.

“Shut up. You know I love you and always will.”

“I know.”

Refusing to say anymore, I wait for her impatience to kick in.

“Fine. I’ll stop bugging you about it.”

I arch a brow.

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll ignore your silly attitude about it all if you promise to come out to that new bar with me and Graham Friday night. Bring Johnny. I’m sure he’ll love it if he hasn’t already been there.”

I hesitate. “I don’t know. He’s thirty. Not sure he’ll want to hang out and drink with a bunch of people in their twenties.”

Exasperated with my excuses, she waggles her finger. “Come on. You won’t know unless you ask. Besides. You didn’t hesitate when he asked you to go to all those hospital events.”

I did; I just didn’t tell her. But the idea of being on Johnny’s arm at those functions was part thrilling and part vomit-inducing. The limelight has never been my thing, and Johnny thrives on it. Another reason to keep dating him. He’s everything I’m not. Balance, right?

Seeing no other choice, I huff and slouch on the bed. “Fine, I’ll go. And I’ll ask Dr. Hottie Hawk if he wants to join.”

“That’s my girl. And if you two want to dip out before Graham and me to christen his apartment, I’ll pay for the Uber.”

“Go away,” I say with a laugh.

She plops on the bed and shakes her head. “I don’t know how you haven’t fucked him every which way yet.” She stares wistfully as if she doesn’t have a fuckable man right down the hall.

“Cut it out. I told you it’s casual, but it still doesn’t mean I go jumping into bed with every guy I’ve gone on a date with. It’s only been two months.”

“And that’s like a zillion years if you ask any guy. It’s because you might actually see a future with him, right?”

I consider what she says. Do I see Johnny and me as endgame? He’s patient and respects my boundaries. On our trip, we slept in the same bed and if he had trouble keeping his hands to himself, he didn’t show it. It was nice to know that not all men think with their dicks. He might drag me to do things that put me out of my comfort zone, but isn’t that what partners are supposed to do? Challenge you?

Phoebe eventually leaves, and I’m left to deal with the dichotomy of my heart. The last five years have stolen who I thought I’d be and left a shell in its place.

Maybe it’s time to shed my former self for good and become someone brand new.

CHAPTER THREE

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