Page 48 of The Games We Play
“Hi,” I exhaled. “I know I’m here unannounced, but I need your help. And I promise to tell you everything, on one condition.”
Aspen scoffed, and she playfully shook her head. “Why would I agree to something before knowing what it is?”
“Because it has to do with your best friend,” I said, voice steady but low. “And righting my wrongs.”
Her expression shifted in an instant, skepticism giving way to something else.
She hesitated only for a moment before stepping aside, but I didn’t move just yet. I needed her to agree before I stepped inside.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. My eyes flicked toward the neighboring house. If Boone finds out I’m here, he’ll eat this up like it’s his last damn meal.
I pointed at her, my tone firm. “Not even Boone.”
Aspen’s brows shot up, and she let out a low whistle. “This must be serious.”
My skin prickled with heat, embarrassment creeping up my neck like a slow burn. I swallowed hard, then admitted, “I fucked up.”
Aspen’s lips parted slightly, but whatever she was about to say, she must’ve thought better of it. Instead, she gave me a quick nod, then gestured sharply with her hands.
“Okay,fine—but get inside before Boone sees you. Then I have to tell him.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
I slipped past her, the door clicking shut behind me.
“I have to say, I’m surprised you came to see me,” Aspen added, her voice dripping with curiosity as she trailed behind me.
I barely made it to her open living room before spinning on my heel, hands planted on my hips. She was in the kitchen, head buried in the fridge, rummaging through its contents.
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Me too.”
Aspen didn’t react, just kept digging through shelves like she’d find treasure between the ketchup and leftover takeout.
“Want something to drink? Water? Beer?” she asked, finally glancing over her shoulder.
“Beer, please.”
She spun around, the hem of her dress catching the momentum, as she reached for a bottle opener. With practiced ease, she popped the cap off a cold one and stepped toward me, her fingers wrapped around the sweating glass.
“Should we sit?” She shot a glance at the dining table, but I shook my head.
“Well,” she huffed dramatically, lowering herself into a chair anyway, “I am. I’ve been on my feet all damn day, and they’re killing me.”
Her ponytail was slightly messy, loose strands slipping from the elastic to frame the curve of her jaw. She looked comfortable, confident—meanwhile, I felt like my ribs were in a vice grip.
I stayed where I was, jaw locked, words getting stuck somewhere in my throat. Aspen tilted her head, her sharp gaze locked onto me, studying me like I was a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.
Where the hell did I even start?
Did I lay it all out there? Spill every last regrettable detail? If I said it out loud, it meant other people would know what a mess I’d made, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that level of exposure.
I needed Aspen’s help, but I didn’t need to hand her my entire disaster on a silver platter. I could leave some things out.
Halloween. That was a safe enough place to begin. I’d tread carefully.
“Penny and I have been hooking up since the Halloween party at the barn,” I said, my voice carefully even. “That night, we snuck off while you all were downstairs.”
Aspen’s lips parted—then, suddenly, she burst out laughing.
