leads to misinterpreted tones and words, and it takes me for fucking ever to hit the right keys and her five seconds to send me a novel.
I hit call on her name. It rings twice before I’m sent to voicemail again.
Games. Mind games.
I growl out an objection and then type out a response.
Me: What was I supposed to do? My friends were in the kitchen where the fight was.
Jade: They had each other and a hundred other people who could have helped. You chose them over me. Don’t you get that?
Me: I don’t understand why you’re twisting this. They needed help and you didn’t.
Jade: You had no idea what might have happened. The fight could have spread or moved outside.
“Fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Me: You’ve put me into a lose-lose situation. I was damned either way. You have to put yourself in my shoes. She was hurt. She needed my help. You were fine. I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this?
Jade: It wasn’t just someone. It was her. And don’t tell me you’re just friends. I can tell it’s more serious than that. How would you have felt if I’d left you and went to go seek out two GUY friends? I guarantee you wouldn’t have waited on the front lawn for me to come out.
She’s not entirely wrong.
She’s also not entirely right.
If someone had been in trouble, I would have stuck around to help, regardless of who they were—I’m not that much of a dick to leave. And I know her ridiculous hypothetical was meant to make me jealous—fucking mind games—but what’s sticking out more is that she thinks Olivia and I are more than friends. It may not have been true before the party, but ever since I saw her injured in that kitchen, something has been different. And since I have no idea what that something is, I heave out a sigh, my neck and shoulder muscles all constricted and tight as last night plays out in my head again and again.
Me: I’m sorry your feelings are hurt. I never meant for you to feel like I chose someone over you. It was a shitty situation, and I did the best I could with the information I had. But honestly, Jade, why am I defending myself right now? We’re not together anymore. You’re the one that broke things off when I injured my knee…
Jade: I’m meeting some friends for breakfast. I’ll text you later.
I stare at her bullshit response that lacks a shred of understanding before sliding my phone into my pocket. How the fuck did my checking to see that she got home okay turn into this cluster? I know she’s trying to start things again, she said as much at the party. But is that what I want? Olivia’s questions from the drive to Portland pop into my head again. Did you like her? Did you want to be the guy she married? My anger at Jade’s mind games fuels me as I head into the bakery next door.
“Arlo!” Marcus greets me from behind the counter, his voice joyful and loud over the full crowd that the weekends always guarantee.
Then, a person waiting for their order turns, catching my attention even faster than having my name being called. Her dark hair is down and curly, her eyes a bright shade of blue as she smiles at me like I’ve just brightened her day. Olivia. She makes her way toward me, abandoning her order.
I glance around, wondering if this is a trap. If Jade is here, waiting to see what my response will be.
“Hey!” Liv says. “Small world.”
I nod, still looking around because it seems too random to have her be here when I’ve never seen her here in the two years I’ve worked next door at The Peddalers. “How are you feeling? How are the stitches?”
“It’s not as terrible as I thought it would be. It looks kind of gruesome, but there’s no blood, which is a win. Wrong time of year. If this were Halloween, I’d wear a midriff shirt and own it like a costume.”
I think of last night and picture Liv in her underwear, her breasts filling her bra and her narrow waist. I’m probably going to hell for thinking about her like that when she literally had a shard of glass stuck in her side, but I couldn’t help it. And when I’d helped her with her jeans, sliding them down her legs after slowing removing her shoes, my mind, for