Page 105 of Unleashed

“Titus is still weird about sharing my caramel cake because of that chat.” She fishes out a serving platter and starts layering on lettuce, tomato, and jalapeno. “And I think Walker’s capable of conversing when he wants to.” She grins. “He just doesn’t usually want to.”

Lindsey, who’s been hanging on Mariah’s every word asks, “I wonder why?”

Mariah glances at me before answering, “Probably stress.”

Yeah. Sure. Definitely not because he’s emotionally stunted thanks to his mother’s untimely and unexplained death.

Not that I’m judging. I’m quite confident my own mommy issues fucked me all the way up.

The front door opens again, this time as Ruth and Brooke enter. They both greet Lindsey, and soon we’re pouring margaritas and munching through chips and guac, talking about work and parenting and everything in between. Eventually, we move on to the tacos, filling our plates and carrying them into the formal dining room since Zara has claimed the breakfast room as her art studio.

I’m partway through my first steak-filled tortilla when I realize we haven’t really asked Lindsey any questions about her life. We’re too used to already knowing just about everything about each other, so it didn’t even occur to me before now.

Pausing my inhalation of Mariah’s fabulous cooking, I focus on where she sits next to me. “So, what made you move here?”

Lindsey takes a sip of her margarita to wash down her own mouthful. “I actually came here specifically for the job at McKinley Security Systems. It seemed like such a great place to work, and once I got the offer, I started packing my bags.”

I understand that. I probably would’ve moved to get a job at McKinley too. Hell, I took a pay cut and a temp job specifically to get my foot in the door, knowing the sacrifice would pay off eventually. “It really is a great place to work. The pay is great. They give more vacation right out of the gate than just about anybody. And their insurance is awesome. Especially if you have kids.”

“Do you have kids?” Ruth must have noticed the same thing I did, because she’s the next one to ask Lindsey about her life.

“No.” The pretty blonde shakes her head. “I’ve had a lot on my plate, and haven’t had time for much of anything. Kids. Relationships.” She gives us a soft smile. “Friends.”

“Well you have friends now.” Mariah lifts her glass, stretching it across the wide table. “To friendship.”

We all do the same, clinking Trevor’s super-expensive tumblers together as we repeat, “To friendship.”

I drink a little of my margarita, fighting the urge to say what I’m thinking. I don’t usually share how I’m feeling, but it seems wrong to keep everything inside like I always have. These women share so much with me. They trust me with their secrets. With their sadness. With their frustrations and with their celebrations.

I didn’t tell them about Zara until I absolutely had to. Even then, I didn’t fully explain our situation. What would have been the point?

Now I know. The point is to not feel alone. To be supported by people who want to lift me up.

People who I want to lift up in return.

And right now, that includes Lindsey.

“I know what you mean by not having time for friends.” I peek at Lindsey so she knows I’m talking to her, but then put my eyes back on my plate. Because talking about my feelings might be something I’m finally willing to dip my toe into, but it’s very fucking uncomfortable. “I didn’t have friends until I started working at McKinley.”

The room goes quiet, amplifying my discomfort. I feel exposed, and it has me regretting opening up. Wishing I continued holding everything close.

But then a tortilla chip bounces off my forehead.

I look up and Brooke waggles her eyebrows at me. “And now look at you. You’ve got a bunch of friends you can’t seem to get rid of.”

A smile tries to work onto my lips. “You guys are kind of annoying.”

“Yeah.” Mariah grins and tips her glass at me. “But we make really good margaritas.”

“That is definitely a perk.” I pick up the chip Brooke chucked at me, pointing it at Lindsey. “Now you’re probably stuck with them too.”

Lindsey smiles, but this time it’s not the giant, blinding, manufactured one I normally get from her. This one seems genuine. Real.

“I would really like that.” She picks up her glass, swallowing down a mouthful of sweetened lime juice and tequila. “I do love a good margarita.”

“We’re good for more than just alcohol.” Ruth tilts her head my way. “That one has a van that would be perfect for transporting bodies.” She winks dramatically. “You know, if the need ever arises.”

It’s something we joke about often, and I’m pretty sure it’s rooted in the shared trauma of what happened with the Dead Dans and Ruth’s ex. That’s probably why our friendship became so strong so fast. We’ve been through a lot together, and in a pretty short timespan. More than most people go through in a lifetime. The kind of stuff no one else would believe, let alone be able to commiserate.