Page 79 of Roses in Summer

“This will be the last time you ever see me,” she threatens, and I nod in agreement. “I’m serious, Lincoln. I will not come back again. If you let me walk out this door, that’s it. We’re done.”

“I know, Gemma. And I hope you find someone who can give you what I can’t.”

Her eyes harden at my words, though they were meant to have the opposite effect. “Oh, fuck off. Don’t try to be nice to me now. Go fuck yourself with your Frankenstein dick, Lincoln Simmons.”

With that parting shot, Gemma slams the door, her anger echoing in the apartment. Reaching out, I reengage the locks, sliding the chain back in place. I’m too wired to sleep, too annoyed after Gemma’s unceremonious pop-in to find any relaxation this morning.

Walking back into my bedroom, I fall onto my bed, grabbing my phone on the nightstand after I hit the mattress. I resolve to lose myself in bullshit social media posts the same way I did three weeks ago when the last fight I had with Gemma reached a boiling point. But the minute that I open up my Instagram app, Gemma’s teary face pops up, showing an Instagram live that has more than two hundred people tuned in.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I grumble, watching as her throat convulses with some unnamed emotion that masks itself to be sorrow.

“M-my boyfriend just kicked me out of our apartment. All the years I wasted on that man,” Gemma sobs, shaking her head at the camera. “He didn’t care that I have no place to go, that I’ll probably have to live out of my car. I feel so dumb.” I clench my jaw in anger, reading the comments of strangers on the internet telling her how big of an asshole I am and how they hope karma bites me in the ass. Gemma’s voice fills my room again, and I swipe out of the app, silencing her words.

“Fuck this.” I navigate to my texts, pulling up the only person I want to speak to right now.

Lincoln: Good morning, ciern. Are you up?

30

Seraphina

Lincoln: Good morning, ciern. Are you up?

Seraphina: Unfortunately.

I hit send before I can think better of it. Lincoln must be watching his phone for my response because his reply is instant.

Lincoln: You having a morning too?

I let out a laugh that holds absolutely no humor and let my fingers work over the screen.

Seraphina: It is definitely one of those mornings. You ever do something you wish you didn’t have to do?

It takes him longer to reply this time. Maybe he’s contemplating my words, or maybe he got distracted, but either way, I don’t wait for his response, even though I wish I could lose myself in a conversation with him. I pocket my phone and fix my eyes on the closed door in front of me.

Dragging in a deep breath, I raise my hand and drop it against Liv’s door. My heartbeat is loud in my ears, nearly drowning out the footsteps I hear approaching the door. Looking up, I imagine how this conversation is about to go, and I don’t have high expectations.

Liv’s door swings open, showing my best friend in a black sleep set and matching slippers. “Yeah?” she asks, her voice gravelly from sleep. I tried to wait up for her last night, hoping that a conversation then would have been easier than early this morning. But I fell asleep, and Liv worked late, so the paths that should have crossed didn’t, leaving me here, holding out a cup of coffee while I hope Liv won’t freak out when I tell her what I think she needs to know.

“Here, I brought you coffee.” I hold out the mug for her to take. “Can you come sit with me?”

Grabbing the coffee from my hand, she cradles it against her chest. “Does this have anything to do with you calling me six times and Rafe showing up here, then following me to the bar for my shift last night?”

“Yeah…” I clear my throat. “Yeah, it does.”

Nodding once, she steps over her threshold, pulls her door shut behind her, and follows me to the puffy couch in the center of our living room. I sit on one corner of the sofa, facing the opposite armrest, and wait for Olivia to settle opposite me. Once her legs are folded beneath her and she’s taken the first sip of her hot liquid, I begin.

“I worked last night, and I ran into someone from high school,” I explain, keeping my eyes pinned to Olivia’s curious gaze. “He was—is—best friends with my ex, the one I told you about.” I bite down on my lip, deliberating my next words. “The night everything ended, we were at my ex’s friend’s house, but before that, we were at Grey’s college house, at a backyard barbecue. At the party, Mitch tried pressuring me to go to a summer science camp—”

“What camp?” Olivia interrupts sharply, looking down into her mug.

“Camp Discovery,” I reply softly and watch Olivia’s eyes squeeze shut at my admission.

“Oh.”

“My ex’s name is Mitch. His friend is Chris.”

“Oh,” Olivia repeats, her voice smaller, more hushed.

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