I warned her that he would do the same thing to her and—big surprise—he did. Now she wants to come crying to me! Am I wrong to want nothing to do with either of them?
Yowza! You know what they say about cheaters: they’re likely to cheat again. As evidenced by your situation.
I’m not sure the level of friendship here considering your gal pal took up with your ex, but if you are truly friends, I know you’ll care that she’s hurting. EVEN if you tried to help her avoid it in the first place.
Can you listen without feeling the pain of your breakup all over again? Can you trust someone who would date your ex?
If so, bite your tongue and be there for your friend. Then I suggest going in together on a joint voodoo doll. Not that I believe in magic … but I do believe in the therapeutic power of a good pincushion.
You did say “either of them,” so I have to ask—are you still in contact with this turd wagon? Because … no. Just no.
See above instructions for voodoo doll.
-Dr. Love
Chapter Fifteen
Gavin
“Wakey, wakey,” a voice says, yanking me from the very pleasant dream I was having. One where Zoey was here, running her hands through my hair. Wrapped in my arms.
I don’t like the jarring surprise of seeing Thayden instead, drawing open the curtains so that the room floods with light.
I groan. Everything hurts. Mostly, my head, but my throat feels raw as well, and I ache all over. But I can tell by the sheen of sweat that my fever has broken. I try to scroll back through my memories, but they’re getting confused with my Zoey dream.
“What’s going on? Why are you here?” I ask. “And shut those curtains, please.”
“You need to shower,” he says.
I can’t argue. I feel sticky, and the sheets are damp. “Fine. But again, what are you doing here?”
“You missed breakfast and weren’t answering your phone.”
My phone. Where is my phone? I need to call the office. If I missed breakfast, I missed going into work.
I stand on legs as wobbly as a newborn giraffe. Thayden could offer to help, but he just leans against the wall, looking like he’s about to start laughing. Jerk. I’m trying to remember why we’re friends and I can’t.
My phone isn’t on my dresser or the counter in the bathroom. I finally locate it in the pocket of my pants, which are crumpled on the closet floor. My place is a mess. And my phone is dead.
I plug it into the charger by my bedside table and sink back down on the mattress. I feel weak just from walking to the bathroom and back.
“You think this is funny?”
“You would too if you knew all the details. I’m guessing you don’t remember much of the last twenty-four hours?”
I run my head. “It’s a fog. Dreams mixed with reality. I went to see Nancy, came home and went to bed early. I guess I got sick sometime after that? If I missed breakfast—wait. Is today Friday?”
Thayden nods and the reality of missing not one but two days of work sinks in. Then there’s all the missing time. I try harder to grasp at any memory.
Mostly, I keep seeing Zoey from my dreams. Zoey bringing me water. Zoey’s fingers in my hair. Zoey … standing in my room when I got out of the shower.
Realization is an icy wave crashing over me. If I were dreaming of Zoey, it would not be these kinds of details. I wouldn’t be sick in bed with her feeding me pain relievers.
My eyes fly to Thayden’s, and the jerk laughs. I need a new best friend. Too bad I can’t put out applications for those. I’ve found that faithful friends are pretty hard to find, so I might just have to make do. But back to my dreams … or memories? I’m not remembering my dreams but actual things that happened while I was feverish.
Oh. No.
“I see that it’s coming together,” he says.
“Is she—is Zoey … here?”
His smile grows. My phone lights up on the table and I scramble for it, feeling like it must hold the key to unlock this nightmare. I’ve missed a ton of phone calls and texts, but I’m looking for the last communication I sent out. My last phone call or text.