Page 16 of Every Broken Promise
Ever the pessimist, I don’t know why I expected him to tell me something positive. Something that would give me hope that everything would be okay.
“Friends outgrow each other.”
“Not us,” I said confidently.
“Are you thinking straight, or is it your dick talking?”
I glared at the fucker.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Adam said she’s fucking gorgeous now.”
The way he said that irritated me.
“Shut the fuck up. She’s like your little sister, and she’s always been beautiful.”
EZ grabbed the keys to the tow truck.
“I never said she was like my sister.”
My stomach churned at his words. What did he mean by that? I know I joked about Adam fucking anything with legs, but I could almost bet on the fact he would never go there with Astrid, but I wasn’t sure I could say the same about EZ.
My brow was furrowed as I looked at my big brother, trying to figure him out.
“With the kind of friendship you’re offering her, who the hell needs enemies?” he stated.
Okay, now the fucker was really pissing me off.
“If you have something to say, just spit it out,” I ground out.
My brother sighed as if he were talking to a toddler who couldn’t comprehend the lesson they were being taught.
“You’re fucking pressed that Astrid isn’t talking to you, but not once have you tried to apologize to her. You fucked up, brother. And if she never wants to speak to you again, then you’re going to have to fucking deal. We make our own beds, so if yours is full of fucking shit, then that’s on you.”
I hated him because he was fucking right. There was some work I was supposed to be doing, but I couldn’t focus enough toget it done. I was a mess because I was angry at myself. I was the one who fucked up, and Ezekiel was right—if Astrid never spoke to me again, then no one could blame her.
But I wasn’t giving up.
Some things always made sense when they were together, and since I was five, I knew Astrid and I were in that category. I knew it then, and I sure as hell had not changed my mind about that.
Now, I just needed guidance on what to do because I wasn’t giving up.
My phone pinged, and it seemed like the universe was finally in my favor.
Since the momentAstrid became my best friend, her parents had become like second parents to me. God bless Mrs. Hart for bringing Astrid that first weekend without my mother. That sleepover was what I needed.
The Harts saved me from countless nights of crying. They helped my dad out by taking me and my brothers for a few hours so he could lose it without us watching. They helped keep our minds busy, taking us to the park or having us do activities with them. They helped dull the ache of losing our momma.
Losing a parent at a young age was a trip. You mourned the most important person in your whole world. As you get older and start to forget details about them and outlive the time you had together, you begin to mourn the idea of what could have been.
Astrid helped fill the void left by my mom. She had always been the second most important person to me, so when she left, I did the only thing I could think of to try to fill that void.
I came to her parents.
They were the only piece of her I had to hold on to. Even though they were like family to me, they were still hers first. They loved me but respected their daughter too much to get in the middle of “our little fight,” as Mrs. Hart referred to it. Not once did they give me a single piece of information about what she was doing with her life. They had plenty of chances to let something useful slip, but man could they keep a secret.
For the last four years, every Sunday, without fail, I have been sitting at their dinner table. After the disaster at the auto shop, I decided to let Astrid adjust and skip my weekly dinner at her house.
