don’t know what I did, or what I can do to fix it.”
“I’m fine. We’re fine,” I lied.
“We’re not! You haven’t picked up a single one of my calls since Sam’s wedding, and that was three months ago, so don’t tell me that nothing is wrong, because I can’t remember the last time we went three months without speaking.”
I could. It was after Will’s funeral, but I wasn’t about to go there. Lies. Fake smiles. I was so sick of it all. She was my best and oldest friend. I could do this. I could ask her for what I needed, but it was impossible not to hurt her in the process.
“I bought a beach house in Cape Hatteras. It’s a wreck, but so am I, so we fit rather nicely. Will—” My throat tightened, and I reached for my coffee, taking a quick swallow before starting again. “He left me a secondary life insurance policy and his truck, among some other things.”
Her indrawn breath—just shy of a gasp—made me pause.
“I…I didn’t know he did that.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t know everything.” The little sarcastic laugh flew past my lips before I could stop it. This was going to go to shit if I couldn’t rein in my mouth.
“I never thought I did,” she said softly. “You know, Cape Hatteras is only a drive away—”
My anxiety hit the panic button.
“Paisley, I love you, but I need some time and space. I have a therapist, and Sam’s staying until I complete this program. Please understand. I’m so glad that you called—”
“Program? Are you in rehab?”
“No.” I let a self-deprecating laugh slip. “Nothing like that.”
“Wait, you have Sam there?”
Shit. Now I’d gone and hurt her feelings, which was the opposite of my intention.
“The therapy I’m going through is for something called complicated grief, and as much as it hurts you to hear this, you are a giant trigger for me.” Just talking to her had the vise tightening around my throat.
“I am?” Her breath left in a rush.
“Yeah, and the treatment requires a support person. That’s why Sam is here.”
Sam gave me a reassuring smile.
“Are you okay? I didn’t even know you were struggling. We’ve never kept secrets from each other,” Paisley murmured.
“I kept one from you,” I corrected her. “Remember?”
She paused, and I could almost see the gears turning in her head, the way her green eyes would shift side to side when she was trying to work something out.
“Will,” she said softly.
“Will,” I confirmed. I’d never told her I loved him when it could have mattered. I didn’t tell her until she’d decided she didn’t want him anymore, and even then, it had been by accident. I’d never wanted to hurt her.
“Complicated grief…is it over Will?” she asked. “Honey, if this is about him, why can’t you talk to me? No one knew him better, or knows you better—”
“Oh, stop it!” I snapped. That facade I’d maintained around Paisley since he’d died—hell, since I’d fallen for him—shattered like glass. I was done having my feelings marginalized or being talked to like I’d been some fifth grader with a crush.
The line fell quiet, taut with tension and more than a little apprehension.
“I’m a trigger,” she said slowly.
My stomach sank at the heartbreak in her voice.
“You’re a trigger, and my best friend, which makes this really, painfully hard.” I sagged against the counter.
“So…” She sighed. “So you need me to leave you alone. Stop calling. That kind of thing?” Her voice broke.
I felt the telltale burning in my eyes and blinked back tears. “Not forever, but for now, yes.”
“Okay. I can give you time.”
“I know. That’s why I love you.” My face crumpled, wishing we were back in our kitchen in Enterprise, snacking on popcorn and M&M’s. Wishing our worlds hadn’t been torn so completely apart that we couldn’t find each other…yet.
“Call when you’re ready. Can I talk to Sam for a second?” Her voice broke.
“Sure.” I handed the phone to Sam, and she started nodding.
“Yeah, I’ve got her,” she promised, crossing from the kitchen to the living room.
I sucked in a deep breath and hit play on the tape recorder. May as well go through all the pain at once.
“Okay, Morgan. Can you take me back to the moment you experienced Will’s death?” Dr. Circe’s voice came through the speaker.
I braced my hands on the counter, steadying myself for the impact of everything that was going to follow on that damned tape.
“I’m in the grocery store, picking out a jar of jam,