“He just left. Can you come over tomorrow after practice? I’ll fix dinner,” I say with rapid pressure, worried I’ll lose my nerve and chicken out.
“I’ll be done at five.”
I hang up and dial Arissa’s cell. “Sis!” she answers.
I tell her what happened as fast as possible before emotion can take over and send me into a tailspin.
“Didn’t you once tell Becky something like what she saw and what really happened were two different things?”
“Since when are you on his side?” I ask, perturbed.
“Since ninth grade,” she reminds me. “We may razz each other all the time, but he’s my friend too.”
I call Hunter next. “Are we going to stay up late again?” he asks after answering the phone.
I burst into tears one more time and he lets me cry without saying a word, like he’s always done. “What happened?” he asks when I quiet, his voice sharp with the concern I’m so familiar with.
“I saw Jason kissing another woman.” Instead of rushing through like I did with Arissa, I take my time, giving him more details. The crying jag at the beginning of the call keeps me from feeling like I’m falling into oblivion while I talk. Or it’s just Hunter and his silent support, always letting me get the ragged emotions out of my system before asking questions. Or both.
“Do you still love him?” he asks.
“The only things I feel right now are angry, betrayed, and heartbroken.”
“Think about it. If she’s been harassing him like Becky and Nicole did to us, isn’t it possible that Mandy went just one step further than Becky did the day she had Jason pinned against his car? And if that’s the case, can you move on with him? Because Tommy is right. You need to work through this with him if you’re going to spend your life together. That’s love, Sara.”
“I know he’s right. I know you’re right. It just hurts so much right now.” My voice wavers as pain overtakes my heart, threatening to trample it.
“Put the phone down and get a blanket.”
“What?” What does a blanket have to do with anything?
“Don’t ask, just do.”
I blow out an exasperated breath. “Fine.” I grab the comforter out of the closet. “Done.”
“Is your futon folded up or did you pull it out for the night?”
“Folded.” I still don’t get it. The blanket. The state of my futon. Where is he going with this?
“Wrap yourself up tight in the blanket, then wedge yourself into the crease of the futon.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Do it, Sara.” He’s not playing around. I know that tone.
I follow his friendly order. “Okay.”
“How does it feel?”
“Oddly comforting.”
“That’s me holding you since I can’t be there.”
He always knows what to do and say to comfort me. Heaviness settles into my body and I let out a yawn. “Thank you, Hunter.”
“I’m always here for you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
The phone rings as I remove the lasagna from the oven. I pick it up from the end table, then buzz Jason in and open the door. I return to the kitchen and cut up the lasagna.
“Smells good,” Jason says, closing the door.
I spin around. His warm-ups and a white UCLA t-shirt hang loose on him. He sets his duffel next to the door, takes off his jacket, and drops it on the bag.
I grab two plates and use a spatula to pull out a portion for each plate.
He enters the dining room. “The place looks great. I can set up the stereo for you before I leave if you want.”
I set the plates down on the table.
He pulls me to him by my hips.
“Don’t…“ I start, pressing my hands against his chest.
He uses the side of his index finger under my chin to lift my head, and brushes my chin with his thumb. My resolve melts as I recognize the spark in his eyes reserved just for me. He holds my gaze for a minute. My heart flutters.
Why does it betray me? I’m still angry and hurt.
“I’m starving,” he says, glancing at the table.
He seats himself and I remove the salad from the fridge, setting it on the table as I sit down.
He takes my hand and wraps it up in his. “Thank you for cooking. It really does smell wonderful. I wasn’t just saying that.”
I pull my hand away. “You’re welcome,” I say, keeping my face flat, expressionless.
He serves himself some salad and hands me the bowl. I add some to