Page 62 of Dahlia Made A List

She rolled her lips, wrapped her arms around her chest as if bracing for a blow. “Did I do—”

“You didn’t do anything. Just gotta go.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dahlia

“Youlooklost,”Vidaannounced as she passed my spot in the kitchen.

I leaned against the pillar between the living room and the kitchen in Minerva’s place, the Shameless Readers wandering in to deposit their contributions to the night’s liquid menu. I’d forgotten to bring the Moscato that’d become my staple contribution. But then, I’d been lucky to make it here at all today.

Since Wyatt had dropped me off after practice Saturday, skipping out before we could share dinner or anything more intimate, I’d been floating through my days in a fog. A confused, painful fog. I’d said Wyatt was different and in this separation, that was holding true, too.

He hadn’t ghosted me. At least, not yet. He responded to my texts, my calls, but a distance penetrated our conversations.

Vida set a brand new bottle of Tequila on the farm table before turning back to face me. “Holding up that column there, are ya?”

I forged a smile, tipping the corners of my mouth, at least. “It’s a little job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

The last thing I wanted was to surround myself with people, even the wonderful friends I’d made with the Shameless Readers. I wanted to wallow in the comfort of my bed. Stare at my phone and manifest a call from Wyatt, a call that would get us back to how we were at the yurt.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Vida said, moving past me into the living room.

A minute later Maia appeared in her place, the same concerned expression on her face. “Spill, girl. What’s with you tonight?”

I shrugged. What could I say? I thought about my first book club meeting, how I questioned whether I would turn into a wallflower inhaling carrot and celery sticks in the corner or overshare my life history. I’d given them the overshare version of Dahlia that night. Tonight, all I wanted to do was hide until I could retreat back to my apartment.

“Alright, I’m not gonna drag anything out of you, but I’m not gonna let you stew all by yourself, either. C’mon.” She hooked her elbow with mine and guided me to our usual sofa spots. I settled back on the cream-colored couch and let my friends’ conversation surround me. The familiarity turned comforting and the fake smile slipped from my face, a little of the tension in my shoulders softened.

Minerva stretched to reach the cookies on the coffee table from her spot in one of the leather chairs. “Where’s Ang tonight?” she asked the room at large.

“Poor girl had an afternoon shift. Won’t be able to join us tonight.”

“So who are we still missing, then?”

Within a few minutes, the group settled down and launched into dissecting The Billionaire Next Door, an enemy-to-lovers story I’d enjoyed. But somehow words escaped me tonight and instead of contributing to the discussion, I soaked in the warmth and welcome of a group of people content to be together.

Before long, we were breaking up. I hauled more than my share of dishes into the kitchen, my guilty conscience deeming clean-up duty my penance for being quiet all night.

Maia caught me in the kitchen. “So what’s the new derby routine going to be now that you’ve officially made the team?” She dumped a half-finished margarita down the drain. “Are we gonna need to shuffle your schedule around at work?”

I rolled my lips and straightened my shoulders with a nod. “Yeah, we’ll have practices Thursday nights and bouts on Saturday afternoons.”

She turned, leaned her back against the counter, crossed her arms over her floral dress and smiled at me. “I’m so proud of you, Dahlia. Inspired, really.”

My heart flipped. “What? Why?”

“I loved your list. In the beginning, I loved that the list kept you from dwelling on your break up with Braindead Brandon, but you’ve turned it into so much more than a distraction. Before you, I had no idea what a dang yurt even was, and here you’ve gone and spent the night in one. And derby, I thought that only existed in ‘70s movies, not a sport you could take on right over in Richland.” She grinned bigger with a nod toward my legs. “And girl, they are doingworkfor your legs.”

I blinked, my heart galloping a mile a minute in my chest. “Yeah,” I said, my voice the barest whisper.

She stepped closer. “Dahlia, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I know.” I blinked harder, but the stupid tears slipped down my cheeks anyway.

“You know, when you first started at my salon, you got on my nerves. So happy, all the time, non-stop. First thing in the morning, end of a long day standing on your feet all day with our crazy customers. None of the craziness seemed to matter to you. And you could fill a silence better than anyone I’ve ever known.” She tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, locking her gaze with mine. “I thought, well, price to pay for a stylist with her experience.”

The tears came harder, my breath hitching in my chest and my fingers knotted in the hem of my shirt. Maia pulled me close, her hands at my back, locking me into her hug.

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