Page 49 of Check the Halls
Ben: Heard you're hanging with Beth tomorrow.
I haven’t even set the phone down before her response comes through.
Madness: I am. Really looking forward to catching up with her.
I stare at the little text bubble. It’s just after eleven o’clock and I’m surprised she’s still up. Is she in bed like me? Lying next to him? I push the thought away.
Ben: Remind her of the time we took her to the Exhibition and she puked on your shoes after riding The Zipper.
The whole incident had been my fault, of course. I was the one who encouraged fifteen-year-old Beth to eat her weight in junk food before going on the carnival ride that requires strapping oneself into a metal cage to be flipped around and spun in all directions.
Madness: lol.
Madness: God, I LOVED those shoes.
I know she did. Adorable canvas flats with little bumble bees on them. She wore them all the time.
Ben: At least they were machine washable
Madness: Still. I couldn’t look at them after that without thinking of cotton candy barf
I can picture it like it was yesterday. Beth, mortified beyond words, hands covering her face while we did our best to console her. The three of us piling into my car, gagging and laughing as we cranked down every window, desperate to escape the stench of those ruined shoes.
I remember how Maddy threw her head back, the wind whipping through her hair in wild, tangled waves, her laughter louder than the radio.
God, I miss that sound.
I want to say more. Maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s nostalgia. Maybe it’s just her. I want to tell her things I shouldn’t. Things that have been swirling in my chest, fighting to get out. But I don’t.
Ben: Have fun. Goodnight Madness.
Madness: Goodnight
I set my phone face down on the nightstand and take deliberate, slow breaths in an attempt to ease the tightness in my chest.
Enough, Man. Enough.
CHAPTER 16
MADDY
“Ouch,” Beth groans as we lower ourselves into the booth.
“Do you think the servers will help us back up if we need them to?”
“Maybe if we tip really well and ask nicely,” she laughs.
I’m sitting across the table from Beth at a cozy little café she swore has the best sandwiches in the city, contemplating my most recent life decision. We convinced ourselves that we were up for Mia’s advanced vinyasa class. Ninety minutes later my legs feel like jelly, my hair’s a mess, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.
Beth looks like she’s in the same boat. Her long dark hair is piled on top of her head and she’s still wearing her yoga leggings and oversized sweatshirt. “I feel bruised all over,” she winces as she lifts her bag into her lap. She rifles through the oversized tote for her cell phone. “I told Foster I’d text him to tell him I survived.”
I smile as I recall the awkward conversation I had with the goalie at the fun run. I take a sip of my lemon water and ask. “How long have you been together?”
Her eyes go all dreamy while a dopey smile spreads across her face. “Almost a year now.”
“Really? And Ben hasn’t murdered him yet?” Ben took his role of “only brother” very seriously; especially with Beth since she’s the youngest.
Beth laughs loudly. “It helps that they’re best friends. And teammates. Murdering the goalie would be bad for team morale.”
