Page 75 of Hooked on Trouble

“Tell me everything.”

My words tumble out, my fury over Rose and a repeat of what I wrote Nico. Shay and Lily know about our argument and how he left, but I haven’t bored them with the details of my wretchedness since. Like after Aspen, it was easier to avoid the subject than dwell. But I’m tired of dealing with things on my own. Shay listens as I unload, wincing as I tell her about the box. How I left it in the middle of Nico’s floor with the note, asked him to deal with it. Wrote that I’ll testify against my sister. Whatever it takes. I couldn’t stomach going to the station myself, instead leaning on him. I had no right, but I panicked.

My last line begged him to give us another chance.

“Wow.” Shay’s monosyllable sums it up. “I wish I had some words of wisdom about Rose, but I’m so angry with her, I’d like to karate chop her in the neck.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Your life’s like a John Grisham novel.”

“I could live without the plot twist, and the predictably evil sister.”

And the clueless heroine.

Thoughts of Rose have me wanting to light things on fire, but confusion lingers, too. The past six months, so much of my life has revolved around her. She’s part of the reason I moved to Vancouver. I fussed over her in my house, tried to keep her happy, thought she was the source of my newfound peace. Believed I needed her forgiveness.

Truth is, I only needed mine. Needed to accept we were both victims. What she did for me back then will always mean something, even in the face of her duplicity, but in the aftermath of her betrayal, Nico’s absence is the greater loss. I was so caught up in being angry I didn’t realize losing him was a thousand times worse than losing Rose. And Nico didn’t falter. He sensed Rose would hurt me, but he knew I needed to figure it out on my own. He gave me his heart and cared for mine, and I threw it all in his face.

Now, maybe, there’s a sliver of hope I can get him back. I hang my purse on my chair and remove my jacket, unburdening my body and mind. I rest my elbows on the table. Shay mirrors my pose—her in a bright blue blouse, me in a black, skull-printed top—nothing but old men slurping noodles around us.

“What do you think Nico will do?” I ask.

She rips her wooden chopsticks apart and rolls them over each other. “I think Nico is in love with you, but he’s a man of principle. Asking him to lie for Rose, especially when he sensed she was trouble, will be a tough hurdle for him to jump. But he knows why you did it, and I’d like to think he can move past it.”

“It’s a lot for him to swallow.”

“He’s a lot for you to swallow.” She winks.

I snort, her dirty humor a needed reprieve. My levity doesn’t last long. “He never told me he loved me, and I know how freely he’s used those words in the past. Maybe he didn’t feel that way.”

“But you love him?”

My throat burns. “Yes.” Denial will get me nowhere.

“I saw how he looked at you, Rave. It’s how Sawyer looks at Lily, how Kolton looks at me. That man is head over heels in love with you.”

“I don’t know,” I say, desperate to believe her.

“I do.”

If only she were right. But talking about it and admitting my feelings warm me as much as the green tea our waitress pours. A month ago, I was excited to share my love life with Rose, thinking I needed a sister to confide in. It’s silly, really, yearning for something so imagined. I was too young when she left, and I built our relationship up in my mind, never stopping to think about what I had. What I still have—Lily and Shay. Our friendships are thicker than blood. They won’t always fill the void I feel on holidays and birthdays, but I’m luckier than most.

“What if he can’t forgive me?” I ask.

She sips her tea. “He’d be a fool. You put it all on the line for him. Give him time. He’ll come around.”

But nausea clenches my stomach. I’m sick about the evidence I left at Nico’s and the statement I’ll no doubt have to give. Time for a topic change. “Let’s talk wedding. Did you organize the ceiling lights?”

Her green eyes spark. “Taken care of. Sawyer might not be getting his superhero extravaganza”—she gives me jazz hands—“but we’re turning that space into a galaxy. It’ll be breathtaking.”

“You sure you don’t need my help?”

“As long as you have the photos covered the night of, we’re good. It’s best we stick to our strengths. I don’t ever want work messing with our friendship.”

“Amen to that.”

We’d made a pact that Over the Top Events gets burned to the ground before it affects our bond. I was straight with the girls, telling them I was mainly interested in the photography side of the business. I helped with the initial setup, and we brainstorm ideas together, but I don’t plan to give up my apprenticeship, and my street project means the world to me. Not like the girls need my help. Lily works part-time for Sawyer and Kolton, using her free hours to shop for flowers and listen to bands. We’ve chosen the boys’ office as the venue, the massive loft with its tall ceilings and industrial vibe the perfect blank canvas for Shay. Her design skills will turn it into the moon and stars and sun.