took her hand. She let me, but didn’t break that hard stare. “Devilbend Dynasty is not just a silly hashtag to me. This has nothing to do with me not trusting you and everything to do with my fucked-up head.”
I needed them to understand that this was all because of my need to handle my own shit—maybe because I was the oldest, maybe because of how driven everyone in our family was, maybe because I’d fallen into a pattern of showing everyone a tough, unshakeable face. Who knew why I was the way I was? It was something to figure out later, but I needed them to know it had nothing to do with how I felt about them.
“What did Hendrix tell you?” I asked.
Amaya just stared.
“A lot,” Mena finally answered.
“He pretty much didn’t shut up the entire ride over.” Harlow rolled her eyes.
“About Davey’s? Why I go there? What I do there?”
They nodded.
“About college? The early acceptance?”
More nods.
“About . . . us?”
“He was scant on details about that,” Harlow said.
It was time for more honesty. I swallowed and looked at each of them. “I’m sorry I lied to you, kept things from you. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you for help and support. But please, don’t leave me. I need you girls.”
“No one’s leaving you, you idiot.” Amaya finally flopped down onto the bed and squeezed my hand back. “Just talk to us.”
Surrounded by my friends, I told them everything—the internship I didn’t get, the volunteer position I’d idiotically lost, the early acceptance that made me realize I didn’t want to go to law school, the way going to Davey’s made me feel free of it all for a little while, how the danger of hooking up with hard men made me feel alive.
They listened to it all, held me, supported me, asked questions, reassured me we’d find solutions. They were exactly the kind of friends I hadn’t given them a chance to be. I promised myself I’d never shut them out again. Then I promised them, out loud.
After talking it through properly, in detail, with three sounding boards—it didn’t feel so insurmountable. It no longer felt as if I was single-handedly holding up an entire building. I’d speak to my parents, hard as it would be. I’d figure out what I wanted to do after high school. I’d lean on my friends more for support and guidance. In fact, now that they knew it all, I felt a little silly for how much the pressure had gotten to me, how spectacularly I’d fallen apart the night before. But they made me feel better about that too.
We sat on that bed for hours.
I even told them about Hendrix, the full story this time—how he’d caught me at the bar, how we’d been hooking up, how he’d been trying to keep me safe, trying to help me.
“Well, shit.” Amaya rubbed the back of her neck. “Now I wish I’d let him come home with us.”
“Huh?” I looked between them.
Harlow chuckled. “Yeah, he wanted to help us take care of you, but Amaya barked at him to back off and just drove away.”
“All we had to go off was his word.” Mena crossed her arms. “For all we knew, he was the reason you were so messed up in the first place.”
“What’s going on with you guys now?” Amaya asked. I’d told them everything that had happened, but even I had no idea where we stood. The things we’d said to each other, the way I’d repeatedly pushed him away . . . He’d come for me last night, helped my friends save me before I got seriously hurt, but that didn’t mean all was forgiven. That didn’t mean he’d want anything to do with me after all I’d put him through.
“I don’t . . .” I bit my lip. That wasn’t entirely true anymore. I knew what I wanted. “I don’t know where I stand with him. If he can forgive me. But . . . shit. I really like him. More than like him. I think he might be the real deal.”
“He believed us, last night.” Mena rubbed my shoulder. “When we told him it was Will and not you who was responsible for the posters. He helped us find you. He still cares.”
“Yeah, but Will . . . it’s still my fault. I don’t know if I can even ask him to forgive me for how awful I’ve been.”
Before anyone could say another word, Amaya cursed and