Page 157 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

I try to hide my frown with a smile, feeling like I’m being ripped in two, and wave to a few of the customers, stopping short when I catch sight of a brand new pack-n-play set up beside my podium.

“What’s this?” I ask Jos.

He grins back at me. “We take care of our own.”

“Jos––”

“Get to work, Reese.”

Blinking back tears, I set Penny inside the hot pink pack-n-play and scatter a few toys around her, prepping for another emotionally draining day. The seconds seem like hours as I check the clock every few minutes. I feel like I’m intruding. Like I don’t belong here, despite Jos’s sweet gift. Like I don’t belong anywhere unless Milo is by my side.

The place is pretty empty today. Other than the occasional check-in for a customer’s appointment, there isn’t much for me to do. Despite Jos mentioning them, the books are fine too. This leaves me even more time to twiddle my thumbs and play the stupidwhat-ifgame I’ve come to loathe.

What if I’d turned Marty down in the first place?

What if Penny wasn't here if I had?

What if I’d told Milo the truth before his exhibit?

What if I’d refused to move in with Milo?

What if––

My phone vibrates with an incoming text from my sister, shaking me from my thoughts. I’ve already spilled the beans to her about everything going on, and I’m not sure I want to do another rehash session. Still, I scan her message and scramble to unlock my phone so I can reply.

Dove: Gibson just got off the phone with Milo.

Me: And?

Dove: And he’s hurting.

Me: Well, duh. I kinda figured that part out. Do you know where he is? He hasn’t shown up to work, and he won’t respond to any of my texts. I’m freaking out over here.

Dove: Gibson says he’s holed up in his hotel room, coping the only way he knows how.

So, he’s either drunk off his ass, or he’s drawing until his fingers are raw.

I bite my lip, trying to ignore how my hands shake as I type my response.

Me: Is there anything I can do to help him? Should I move out? Should I leave him alone and give him space? Should I show up on his doorstep and demand he talks to me? I don’t know what to do. And I hate not knowing what to do. Penny rolled over this morning, and I wanted to tell him. Hell, I had a text message pulled up and everything. But I couldn’t press send. I didn’t know if he’d want me to. I don’t know anything anymore. I’m freaking out, Dove.

Another message pops up. This time it’s from Gibson.

Gibson: I’ve been where Milo is. Maybe not exactly the same spot but similar. Remember how I couldn’t even hold Penny because I was afraid I’d get too attached? Imagine how he’s feeling right now. He’s been playing dad for months. And now, he doesn’t know if he’s earned the title or not. I know you didn’t mean to hurt him, and I know you were trying to protect Penny from having a shitty father in her life. But it messed with his head, Maddie. It messed with him in a way I’m not sure he’ll ever recover from. Dove says I’m being too harsh sending this to you. But I’m done with all the lies. The half-truths. The secrets. If you can’t start being open with him, you need to let him go. ‘Cause I’m not sure how much more he can take.

Ouch.

I blink back tears and set my phone down like it’s a scalding hot pan burning my palm as the bell on the door rings with an incoming customer.

“Hi. Welcome to––”

“Are you Em?” the stranger asks.

“Excuse––”

“Is this Penny?” she continues, squatting down to see her.

The woman almost looks familiar, though I’m positive I’ve never seen her. Pale complexion, freckles, long, gorgeous hair, and dimples.

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