Page 48 of How to Survive Your Own Death

“Your face⁠—”

“I didn’t land on my face. I hit the back of my head. That’s bruised too but you can’t see it. Brushing my hair hurts and I can’t wear a hair clip.” As if to prove her point, the wind picked up, whipping the stray strands of hair against her face. She stuffed the strands back into the hood in an effort to control it.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked.

“No,” she said immediately. He wilted, slumping forward to rest his elbows on his knees. She continued, “I told you I didn’t like your prank videos. I asked you to stop it. You said you would, but that must have been a lie because you did it again.”

“It wasn’t a lie. I meant it at the time,” he said.

For all the good it did her.

“And I really don’t think you’d be apologizing if I hadn’t been seriously hurt. You put the video on the internet, Jaxon! You saw me ride away in an ambulance you thought my accident would make good content. That is so…” She struggled to find the right word. No single word encompassed everything in her chest. “Callous. Thoughtless. Insensitive. Mostly, it’s selfish. You’re a selfish man.”

Her words rang out. Molly was right. Geri had a type and her type sucked.

“That’s fair,” he said, sounding ashamed. Good. She hoped he had been losing sleep. “Do we still have a chance?”

“We’re through,” she answered. Then added, “It was fun but I’m not doing this anymore. And I’m sorry I broke up with you over text. That was a dick move.”

“I understand. Thank you for telling me to my face.” His lips twitched. “It sucked.”

She kept her expression dour, not about to indulge nostalgia for their brief relationship.

“I wanted to give you this.” He reached into a jacket pocket and handed her an envelope. “I want to help with your medical bills. I know it’s not enough.”

Inside the envelope was a check for five hundred dollars. Not enough, yes, but thoughtful. She should refuse. Money wouldn’t wash away his guilt or culpability. But she was practical. The amount wouldn’t cover her hospital stay, but five hundred dollars was five hundred dollars.

She folded the envelope in half and stuffed it in her jacket’s inner pocket. The first few drops of rain fell. “Thank you.”

“When do you go back to work?” he asked.

“Monday.”

“Wow, that’s fast.”

Another week to rest would be ideal, but Geri had decent coverage and benefits. Not great, only decent.

“It’ll be good to get back into a routine. The cat wants her space back.” It was a weak joke but she wasn’t sure what to say or do next.

“Fiddlesticks is very attached to her routine,” he agreed.

“I’m sorry.” She twisted on the bench to face him. “Are we friends now? Or pretending to be friendly? I’ve never done this before.”

“Yeah, I believe that. You seem like the burn-your-bridges type.”

Her back stiffened, then relaxed when he grinned. “Harsh.”

But accurate. Geri had never been friends with any of her exes. She was friendly with Patrick but because their contact was short and limited to texts. It’d be harder to keep her cool in person.

The rain picked up, cold drops stinging against her skin. The storm had arrived and would not be ignored.

“We can be friends, but I swear to God, if you prank me one more time, I will rip your soul from your body,” she said, not certain that was entirely possible. She’d have to consult the handbook.

“Deal.”

Get in, loser. We’re going shopping.

Geri smirked at her phone and replied, Where we going?