Page 6 of Fool Me Once

She glances at me, widening her eyes. “Oh, and his wife, Paige, left him for, like, a long time. And then he got smashed on the ice—like, full fucking force—and then he had a heart attack, and now, Paige is back. Because … you know, true love and all.” She sighs dramatically. “They are goals.”

“Wow, that’s … a lot of information,” I say.

I try to digest everything my best friend just word-vomited in a matter of seconds. That’s who Saylor is, but having her chatty self around has gotten me through the past few days, even if she tries to shove ice cream and carbs down my throat every five seconds.

After my night from hell with Richie, I knew I had to get out of California immediately. Even though I called the police to save me, I didn’t press charges because I knew it would be useless. Richie’s family comes from old,oldmoney. And a lot of it too.

Whether I pressed charges or didn’t, I was pretty much screwed either way, but I’m terrified he’s going to come find me. That’s another reason why I’m not going back home to my parents. Sure, that’s only three hours away from where I am right now in Portland, but he isn’t all that familiar with Maine. So, I know he’s not going to randomly come to this particular city to look for me.

Just the thought sends a chill down my spine.I hope he doesn’t anyway.

As Saylor turns the car into a driveway, she waits by the gate, and it opens a few moments later. Though I wanted to be brave, coming here tonight, my stomach feels sick. I ball my fists up, digging my nails into my flesh, and swallow.

Being my best friend and knowing me like the back of her hand, Saylor looks over at me.

“We don’t have to go if you aren’t up for it, Gem. The last thing I want to do is make things worse for you. God knows you’ve been through enough as it is.”

A huge part of me wants to tell her to turn the car around and go back to her house. We could put on our sweatpants, get an unhealthy amount of questionable snacks, and just binge-watch some trashy TV. Or talk about literally anything or nothing at all. Because imagining walking into this house right now … it’s terrifying.

I mean, my cheek is still bruised—though most of it is hidden from my talented best friend’s makeup work. And the cut on my cheek is stillvery noticeable, and that isn’t something makeup can really hide. Though my lip is cut, that healed particularly fast and doesn’t look all that bad. Still, I don’t want people to stare at me and wonder what happened.

“It’s fine,” I utter because I know she’s just trying to get me out of the house. I also know she’s a social butterfly and she loves parties like this. “We can go for a little while.”

Just as the words leave my lips, we pull in front of the house, and my eyes roam over it. After being with Richie, I’m no stranger to elaborate places. And this one is no exception. It’s gorgeous, but it’s also not excessively fancy the way that I’m sure it could easily be. After all, this dude is apparently in the NHL with Smith. Lord knows they have money to throw around.

She shifts the car into park, but her hand doesn’t rush toward the door handle. Instead, she sighs. “Are you sure? Like … really, really sure? Because it’s fine if you don’t want to. Really, Gemma, I—”

“I know you want to go, so let’s go,” I blurt out. “Butpleaseremember to stick to the story.” I look at her and widen my eyes. “Which is?”

She looks puzzled but swallows. “You’re here visiting me, and you were in a car accident the other day, and that’s why your face looks like that.” She inhales sharply. “I’m going to fucking kill that useless bastard one day though.”

Once the words leave her mouth, her entire body grows rigid, and she instantly looks furious. I didn’t even call her before I showed up at her apartment a few days ago. I had known that, if I had, in the hours it took me to fly from California to Maine, she’d have worried nonstop. Or worse, caught a flight to the West Coast to murder my fiancé.

Ex-fiancé now.

“He’s not worth going to jail for, babe. Besides, there’s a special place in hell just for people like him.”

I attempt to smile, but it sends a pain through my heart. The man I thought I was going to marry has taken so much from me, yet coming here and knowing I’m about to be near Smith, I feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m betraying Richie, even though he’s a monster who deserves nothing from me.

“Who said I’d go to jail?” She winks. “You’re not giving me enough credit to get shit done, Gemmy.” She sashays her shoulders, giving me asneaky smile. “Now, are you sure you want to go in? Because I mean it—we can go home right now if you’re uncomfortable.”

The thing about most people is that they oftentimes say things to make themselves feel better. They offer to do things to help, but in reality, they don’t mean it. With Saylor, she does. She hurts for everyone, and when she loves someone … she’s a true ride or die.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” I blow out a breath. “They probably have good food and unlimited alcohol, right?”

“Fuck yeah, they do,” she says, like the little potty mouth she is, before pulling her phone out. After typing something, she looks over at me. “All right … guess we’ll go in.”

“The question is, is Mr. Ryder Cambridge going to be here?” I wink.

Her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and she shushes me like I’m a toddler.

“You are not allowed to mention his name!” she angrily whispers.

I look around the car. “But we’re alone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she grumbles through gritted teeth. “We are not speaking of Ryder. Or his huge, annoyingly perfect di—”

“I wasn’t going to mention any of that.” I scrunch my nose up. “Nor did I need to know that he’s packing.”

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