Page 18 of Golden Star

And let’s not forget my tumble in the bushes. My clothes got pretty snagged up during the fall.

As for now, I can’t let Aunt Martha see it’s missing. She’ll be furious.

So, I pull the sleeve of my sweatshirt as far down as possible, praying she won’t notice, and eat as quickly as I can.

She doesn’t force conversation. Despite all the qualities of hers that I’m not the biggest fan of, that’s one I’ve always appreciated. And I appreciate it more than ever right now, since I’m not in the mood to rehash my breakup with Matt.

After everything that happened last night, my relationship with Matt is the last thing on my mind. Especially since deep in my heart, I know our relationship ended months ago.

It just took refusing his proposal to make it official.

“I’m going to Zoey’s,” I say after we finish eating and get everything cleaned up.

“All right.” She takes a moment to study me—I can tell she knows something’s up. But thankfully, she doesn’t push. “Have a good time.”

“I will.”

Grabbing my phone, I text Zoey that I’m coming over, then hop in my car and head out. Luckily, Zoey drove usto the bar last night, so I didn’t have to worry about getting my car home on top of everything else.

Zoey’s house is on the edge of town, and it’s easily the biggest in Presque Isle. Big enough that she and her brothers have their own rooms, along with their own bathrooms.

When I was younger, I used to wish I lived there. But over the years, I’ve come to appreciate the coziness of the home I grew up in, and the calmness of living with Aunt Martha.

Zoey opens the door, her dark hair tied up in a messy bun on the top of her head, before I can text her to let her know I’m here.

Her gaze drops to my left hand.

More specifically, to the finger that would have a ring on it if I said yes to Matt’s proposal.

“You knew what he was going to do,” I realize. “And you said nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she genuinely looks it. “I just… it was Matt’s question to ask. You needed to hear it from him—not from me.”

Even though I hate it, her point is valid.

“He asked me if he should do it,” she continues, talking faster now, getting everything out before I can jump in. “Obviously, I didn’t want to speak for you. I might be your best friend, but I’m not a mind reader.”

“Come on.” I roll my eyes, and we head up the steps to her room. “You know I wouldn’t say yes.”

“I told him he needed to do what he felt was right.” She shrugs, guilt splattered all over her face. “Maybe this is for the best? You guys have broken up and gotten back together so many times these past few months that I can’t keep up. It’s clearly not working between you anymore.”

“I know.” I plop down onto her desk chair—the one I always sit on when we chat in her room—and she closes the door, making herself comfortable on the edge of her bed. “It was a disaster.”

“He got angry when you said no,” she guesses.

“Heleft me in the woods.And then…”

“And then what?” She sits forward and looks me over in concern.

“It’s going to sound crazy,” I say, not knowing how else to begin.

She smiles wickedly. “I love crazy.”

“I can promise you’ve never heard anythingthiscrazy.”

“Try me,” she challenges.

“Okay,” I say, even though I’m completely unsure about how this is going to go. “But please just let me tell you everything, from start to finish? After I’m done, you can ask all the questions you want.”

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