probably from the slight chill breaking in through the old window. I stopped feeling the cold two hours ago. “I just want you to know you can talk to me if you want to.” I don’t want to talk—not about my past with Tanner, and especially not about what I was doing or where I was last night. “I’m sorry I said Tanner was up for dibs.”
She thinks I’m mad about that? I had almost forgotten she said it.
“He is. He’s not mine, and I can’t claim him,” I state. Over the past year, I’ve come to realize I can’t control what Tanner does or who he sees. It’s been easier to know there is no possibility of a future with him rather than thinking things might change someday. We’re friends. That’s how it has to be. I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t say that a small part of me wishes I could hang him up like a winter coat, and then each winter try him back on to see if he fits. But life doesn’t exactly work that way, and I can accept that. I have to accept it. He’ll remain the one who got away—or, if we’re being honest, the one Blake made go away.
“Oh,” she says, “I completely understand. I was just trying to make you laugh last night.”
“I know you’re trying to help me, hon. And I know I’m being difficult. I just need a little time to get myself out of this funk.” Maybe a lot of time. How does one come out of a funk after losing their twin? “So, I hate to put you out any more than I have already, but could you drop me off at my parents’?”
She nods with a solemn grimace. “Sure.” She snatches her keys from the side table. “You’re not moving out on me already, are you? Am I that bad of a roommate? I am, aren’t I? I know I’m messy and loud and have a tendency of prying into your business, but I don’t want you to leave because of that. Please, Felicity. Don’t go.” She throws her arms around me.
“No.” I force a quiet laugh to ease her worry. “I just want to grab my car.” I take Hayes’s coat and slip it over my shoulders, inhaling the scent he’s left behind. “Then I have to run into the restaurant and talk to Grant for a bit, too.” And it’s about you.
She eyeballs the coat for a second, and I can see the question in her expression. I’m guessing she wants to know whose it is. I hold my focus on her face, hoping she won’t ask. But after a moment, her brows rise, and her lips hint at a smile. “Nice coat.” She shakes her head as if pushing more questions away. “Anyway, I know you’ve been avoiding your car, so if you want, I can take you to the restaurant myself. I need to check the schedule anyway.”
“Um,” I say, in place of what I want to say. No, you can’t come.
“I mean, unless you want to go alone,” she says passively. “I can understand that, too.” She must sense something. I know I’m a bad liar, and I can’t hide anything, even if my life depended on it.
“I think I should do this alone,” I say, breaking our eye contact. It’s written on my face. She’s reading it. I should have just told her a week ago, but part of me is hoping to change Grant’s mind today. The timing couldn’t be worse. He didn’t exactly give me a reason for his decision, but Grant doesn’t do things out of haste. He’s quite tactful in the way he runs the restaurant, making it so I never have to question his motives.
“I get it. I’ll take you to your parents’. No problem at all.” What can I say to make this better? When she finds out what I’m not telling her, she’s going to kick me out.
Not that I can blame her. I’d kick me out, too.
* * *
I hold my breath as I slip into my car. I know I can only hold the air in for so long before I’m forced to breathe in what will most definitely smell like Blake. All other physical memories of him are gone. This is what I’m left with: a scent.
I try the whole breathing in through my mouth and exhaling through my nose thing, but wafts of his soap hit me