Page 60 of Against All Odds

I lay on my couch, first in shock and then in grief.

I’d always known things with Heath would end. We wouldn’t be able to put up with the pressures from his ex and her family—but I’d hoped it would be pleasant. I’d asked him for respect and kindness, and he’d, in the end, given me neither.

I didn’t know how long I was on the couch.

I’d texted Ben and told him to take care of the tavern for the weekend and that I’d be back on Tuesday. I shut my phone off after that. Who cared anyway? I was losing the Wildflower. Ben would have to take it back, and hopefully, he could clean up the mess I’d made out of his business. Or maybe someone else would buy it—not for what I did, but perhaps I wouldn’t lose all my investment.

I blearily walked to the door when the ringing doorbell didn’t stop after what felt like forever. It was dark,but I didn’t know what day it was. I hadn’t done much but lie on the couch and vegetate.

“Sable, open the door,” I heard Casey shout.

I did as she asked.

Casey, Hillary, and Natasha stood outside. Each held a grocery bag and a bottle of wine.

“What are you doing here?”

They walked past me into the cottage.

“We’re your friends,” Hillary said in explanation as they marched into the open-plan kitchen and spread their bounty from the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter.

“Why are you here?” I closed the door behind me, irritated that I had company. I didn’t want people around pitying me, telling me that I was going to be okay. What the fuck did they know? I wasn’t going to be okay. Well…maybe eventually, but not for a good goddamn long time.

“We heard what happened.” Natasha rummaged through my drawers and found a wine key.

“Okay. But…why are you here?”

“We’re your friends; we don’t need an invitation to show up,” Casey quipped. “Mackenna would be here, but Ben needs someone to run the tavern, ya know?”

I looked at my counter and saw that they had brought food from the Wildflower.

“Elijah insisted we bring you some comfort food,” Casey clarified, following my gaze.

I leaned against a wall, blinking at them as my brain tried to process what was happening.

Friends. That’s what they’d called themselves. I wasn’t sure I knew what that word actually meant. Were friends people who showed up uninvited with food, wine, and, apparently, zero regard for my desire to wallow in self-pity?

“Come on, Sable.” Casey waved a hand at me. “Get with the program.”

I sighed heavily. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“We know.” Hillary pulled out a pan wrapped in foil. She set it on the counter like it was a sacred offering. “But we did it anyway. That’s kind of what friends do.”

Natasha, already halfway through opening a bottle of wine, smirked. “Oh, and Elijah didn’t just send bison chili. There’s also mac and cheese and a whole loaf of his famous cornbread. He said if this doesn’t cheer you up, nothing will.”

Why were they trying to cheer me up?

Casey went through my cabinets, pulling out plates and wine glasses.

“I don’t use those plates. They’re…old. You should?—"

“Why does it matter?” Casey cocked an eyebrow. “Are we grading this on presentation now?”

“No,” I said lamely, “but if we were, I’d already be failing.”

“Oh, please, wait until you’re a little drunk to start the pity party.” Natasha poured me the first glass of wine. “Here. Drink this. It’s medicinal.”

I took the glass and slumped onto one of the kitchen counter stools, watching as they moved around mykitchen like they owned the place. Within minutes, the chili was in the oven to reheat, and the mac and cheese was on the stovetop.

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