Page 9 of Laurels and Liquor

“Lex told me what happened, and I can’t begin to tell you the things I’ve imagined doing to that fuck weasel ex of yours, babe, but you’re just circling the drain right now. All of you. I can’t fix the legal drama, but I’m going to help y’all get your shit together,” Gabby says, speaking to me and then to the room at large.

I can’t respond, because she’s absolutely right. Mateo and Lucas are likewise silent. Lex’s heels crack like whips as she crosses the room, coming to rest next to the boys.

“Let’s get you upstairs, my love,” she says, gentle but with absolutely no room for refusal.

Lucas lets Lex lead him out of the room and up the stairs, and Gabby gets to work right away. Chasing Mateo from the kitchen, she starts pulling ingredients from the cabinets and fridge, a one-woman cooking tornado. And like a cyclone, I can’t help but get sucked closer, moving from the sectional to a stool at the breakfast bar to watch her. I’ve seen Gabby cook plenty; some of my best memories from the last five years are from the days she and I spent making hundreds of Christmas cookies in the tiny apartment kitchen where she lives with her grandmother, Wila. They were days spent laughing and pushing away bad memories to replace them with good ones. Me, forgetting about how I left home on Christmas Eve after Darren raped me, and her forgetting about how she lost her parents in a car crash as they were coming home from a Christmas party. Refusing to dwell is such a fundamental part of Gabby’s personality, and she is bringing it down like a sledgehammer onto me and my pack.

“You know, I owe Caleb twenty bucks, but I’m hoping if I avoid him for long enough, he’ll forget,” she starts, mixing and pouring, following some sort of mental recipe.

“I doubt it. But what bet did you lose this time?” I reply with a smirk.

“That Rhett would kill Darren on sight. Fuck, I know I would, and that was before he went all—” She mimes shanking someone with her spoon, pulling a bark of surprised laughter from my chest.

“Rhett’s not a murderer,” Mateo counters, sitting beside me.

He leans back and rests his arm across the back of my stool, his thumb tracing nonsense patterns on my lower back. I shiver a little at the touch, smiling to myself. I catch the twinkle in Gabby’s eyes, but thankfully, she doesn’t comment on the casual affection. Instead, she gives Mateo a look that tells him exactly how much she believes him.

“He’s not!” Mateo insists, but the laughter undermines his efforts.

“I mean, yeah, he’s probably not going to start going all Jeffrey Dahmer or anything, but like… you can’t tell me you wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that Darren ran into Rhett’s knife ten times that night,” Gabby says, slamming a stock pot onto the cooktop.

I suck in a sharp breath, flashes of the fight in the bathroom making me wince back. Rhett’s grunt of pain as Darren’s arm flies forward. The blood.

Run, Lydia! Find Caleb!

I whimper and rub my chest, my heartache manifesting as physical pain. But then Mateo is there, an arm around my shoulder and his purr in my ear. His lemon and cut grass scent surrounds me, even blocking out the spices Gabby’s working with. It takes another few moments, but when I finally get a hold of myself, I look to see Gabby giving me a genuinely apologetic frown.

“I’m sorry, babe. I know… it’s hard to lose someone, even temporarily. But he’ll be okay. And I’m sure he’s chomping at the bit to get on that collect call to you,” she says gently.

I nod, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall. Mateo’s heavy sigh pulls my attention, and I look up at him curiously.

“Do you remember our talk yesterday?” he asks, picking his words carefully.

I try to think, but the only thing I remember before coming to in the shower is falling asleep in my nest with Lucas, both of us crying without speaking. If I spoke to anyone, then it must have been when I was lost in the black hole.

When I don’t answer, Mateo sighs again, pushing my hair back from my forehead and kissing my hairline. “Ted finally got in touch late Sunday night. We’ve been advised that it would be wise for us to not contact Rhett while he’s still in the parish jail. Due to the nature of the crime, he’s worried that our conversations could be recorded and…”

Mateo trails off, but I can imagine the rest. It’s not a stretch to think that Rhett has exactly zero regrets about what he did, but if the New Orleans DA gets him admitting that on the record, then it’ll be all too easy to convict.

“Speaking of phone calls, did you drop your phone in a lake, or are you purposefully ignoring your brother?” Gabby asks, skillfully redirecting before I can sink into the void again.

I blink and look around, as if I’m going to spot my cell phone just laying around. But now that I’m thinking about it, I honestly don’t remember the last time I had it in my hand, or even saw it. Was it at the wedding? On the plane? But before I can answer, Gabby scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“If your head wasn’t attached, you’d lose that, too,” she grumbles, but her smile softens the jab.

“I’ve been…”

“A mess, I know,” Gabby finishes when I trail off. “But it’s not like the rest of these chuckleheads suddenly lost their phones. A simple text, that’s all I’m saying. But now I have to invoice you for the salon trip I needed to cover up these gray hairs y’all gave me.”

Mateo growls a little, but she just sticks her tongue out at him. He relaxes at the sound of my giggle, nuzzling my neck with his nose. In his distraction, he misses the wink my best friend throws my way.

“I would love to hear the story from your side, babe. That wedding sounded like a total Hot Mess Express,” she goes on, stirring the pot again.

I flush and swallow as my mouth goes dry. “Maybe another time, Gabs. It’s still a little… raw,” I reply, words fading to a whisper.

“Oh, no. Totally get it. When you’re ready. You know how much I love a juicy family drama,” she counters, and we share a laugh.

“I’m sure you got plenty of gossip from my brother,” I comment.

---