Page 72 of Fractured

Wouldn’t she?

Hell, my head pounded, and I was confusing myself. I wasn’t ready for tonight, but here I was and I had to follow through. For Harper’s sake.

“You know Kenzo?” I asked hesitantly, looking at her through my lashes.

“Of course, he’s Brett’s friend and the bartender at the speakeasy.” Something clicked in her head because her eyes cleared.

I didn’t wait for her to put it together. “I’ve been seeing him. I ran into him a few times and we just…hit it off.” Okay, this wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated. “He’s one of my boyfriends.”

“What the hell, you heifer! You kept that from me?” she shrieked and started to smile, but it faltered. “But what does that have to do with Brett?”

“They’ve been friends for a while. He goes into the bar to get drinks… Listen, do with this what you will, but Kenzo said that he meets other women there.” It broke my heart to see some of the confidence in Harper leak away as if I’d personally slashed her hopes myself.

“He’s in sales. He has colleagues he meets with all the time,” she argued weakly. Even her posture wilted.

This time I reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing in apology before I continued. “Kenzo said they weren’t innocent meetings. Just, be careful with your heart. Okay? I don’t want you to get hurt, and he’s lasted longer than any of your other relationships.” At least the serious ones.

“Lilith, this makes no sense. He’s such a genuine guy. I’m supposed to meet his parents this weekend.” She turned toward the patio doors like holding my gaze was too much. When she did turn around, tears glistened in her eyes, and I felt like a bitch for putting them there.

“I’m sorry.” I was. I was sorry I’d waited so long, sorry I’d let her get more wrapped up in him. But most of all, I was sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to get past my issues sooner.

Fucking Lauren.

Fucking genetics.

Tears filled my own eyes, and she laughed shakily.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m a shit friend.” I started sobbing, and I hated myself for it. I was even making this moment about myself, even though I didn’t want to, but it was like a week of barely living disappeared under a flood of feeling too much. The emotions rushing over me were ugly ones. Confusion, hatred, self-loathing, paranoia. There were too many to identify them all, but they pushed me down, hiding all the happiness I’d worked so hard to collect.

She moved to sit beside me and pulled me into her arms, rocking us gently. The smell of her cherry blossom perfume soothed me, even as I kept gasping through uncontrollable crying. Her own tears dampened my neck where she’d buried her face. I clung to her as warm tears and slimy snot ran down my cheeks and into my mouth.

We sat like that for what seemed like forever.

When I finally calmed down, she was stroking my hair, making small delicate sniffling sounds.

“I think I was just due for a good cry. My life has been too perfect for a while, and you know it had to come crashing down eventually. It always does. Thank you for telling me.”

I sat back, using the hem of my shirt to wipe my face dry. I hated this shirt anyway, and a little snot wouldn’t ruin it.

“I have some thinking to do. And some research.” A sad smile curled one corner of her mouth. “Want to help me?”

Hell no. Running around trying to trap Brett in lies was too much drama for me. But could I really say no? I was the catalyst that had started this poisonous ball down the hill.

“Absolutely.” Liar, liar, liar.

“We can make a girls’ night out of it. Bashing men, getting wasted, and hopefully finding out if Brett is a class A fuckboy or not. And if he is, then I’m better off without him.”

“You are. You deserve happiness, Harp.” I stared her dead in the eye. “You deserve the best.”

She sobered from the forced humor she was trying to inject into our conversation. “I know. You do too.” After a few seconds, she waved a hand. “I’m not letting this night go to waste. Now that you have four fantastic dicks to occupy your time, I barely get to see you anymore. So we’re going to get shitfaced and watch some sappy rom-com. Actually no. We’re going to watch a zombie movie, because I’m feeling particularly stabby right now.” This time when she laughed, it was real.

We did end up watching an old zombie movie. I didn’t protest, because again, this was all my doing. The horribly done graphics made it a little more bearable. We laughed almost as must as we cringed in secondhand embarrassment. And when the credits started rolling, my phone on the table rang.

I leaned forward to look at the screen as it vibrated across the table.

Ambrose.

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