Have you ever tried to find the contact information for a guy that was pronounced dead three years ago? Because I have. And it wasn’t an easy feat.
After scouring through records at Voss HQ, I couldn’t find anything on Lucas. I know I should stop digging, but I’m still confused as fuck as to how he’s just alive and breathing like nothing happened and why nobody told me about it.
I even considered asking Arthur what was going on, but we’ve hardly spoken since he called me a whore in front of everyone at dinner. Even if I pestered him enough, I knew he wouldn’t tell me anything, so I had to take matters into my own hands. Again.
Things have been tense in my family during the holiday period. Christmas was a shitshow. I spent Christmas Eve at my parents’ house like always and we ate dinner in near silence. I spent Christmas day with the girls, but it didn’t feel anywhere near as good as it usually does.
Because Evan wasn’t there, and I didn’t have a tray full of bacon to shove into his mouth like I did last year. Instead, I spent the day curled up in bed, watching The Grinch while I ate my body’s weight in chocolate.
For the first time in years, I stayed home on New Years Eve as I encouraged the rest of the girls to go out without me. Instead, I stayed in bed, alternating between texting my therapist or Evan. In the end I settled for neither, preferring the comfort of popcorn and a cheesy sitcom. Dr. Nelson is concerned, but I promised I’d call her back eventually.
It took days, hours, and hours of staring at a screen and flicking through books and calling random people until I finally found Lucas’s number. I used my burner phone to call him so he would actually answer. Still, I have no idea what I’m planning on saying until the phone connects.
“Hey, it’s Scarlett. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I just wanted to speak to you. You know, about you being alive and all that,” I say, trying to make light of the situation as I ramble on. I watch the black and white clock on my bedroom wall tick as he doesn’t say anything. I double check that he hasn’t ended the call on me, lifting my feet up to rest on my desk. “Hello?”
“I already told you what you want you need to know, Scarlett,” he says finally. Good. At least he’s talking. Sort of. I’m not a fan of his tone, though. He sounds annoyed – pissed, even.
“Yeah, I know, but I just don’t fully understand,” I say, trying to keep calm. “Why would you come to the funeral? Risk being seen?”
“Giovanni was my best friend. In hiding or not, I was going to show up for him. He showed up for me. As soon as I heard what had happened, I had to go,” he explains. That makes sense. If I was undercover and my best friend died, I wouldn’t care. But why is he undercover? What is he running from? I’m sure people would be delighted to know he made it out alive. “And I’m sorry for that. For you having to see what you did.”
It takes me a few seconds to realise what he’s talking about. Even though Dr. Nelson tells me it’s okay to be shutting out the memories of what happened, a part of me still feels guilty. I don’t want to remember it because of how much it hurt seeing him like that, in so much pain. But those are also the last memories I have with him and the one I had before that — thinking he was covering up a crime scene in his backyard — is not any more pleasant. Blocking it out feels right for now.
“I never told you I was there,” I whisper. Our conversation was short at the funeral. There’s no way I would have dumped that on him. I was already in too much shock.
“Reports,” he replies, “they talk.” Of course, they do because I can’t get one minute of privacy apparently, even after people walked past the scene, leaving us to clean it up. I tried to have the bad stories scrubbed clean, getting the best bits of Gios personality, but they’ve not made any changes, still casting him as the villain. “Listen, I’m glad you called, Scarlett, but I don’t have time.”
I snort. “You don’t have the time? You’re a dead man walking. What could you possibly have to do that’s more important than answering a few questions from your best friend’s niece.”
“I can think of a few things.”
“Yeah? Name one,” I challenge.
“Bills,” he replies gruffly. Bills my ass.
“You’re full of shit,” I argue, my temper rising.
“Look, I know you’re upset about your uncle, and you’re shocked. It’s understandable. Right now, all you should focus on is school and your dad getting better if he wakes up.”
“When,” I correct, my throat goes dry.
“Right. I’m sorry,” he says. I don’t respond to that. Just the thought of my dad not waking up makes my stomach swarm with angry butterflies. “I really do have to go. Take care.”
* * *
The girls have not left my side since the trip to Las Vegas. I thought we were attached at the hip in middle school and high school, but now it’s even worse. I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not. I meant it when I said they are my forever friends. But that also means they’re up my ass twenty-four-seven as if they’re talking me out of jumping off a cliff. No matter how many times I tell them I’m fine, they can’t help double and triple checking.
“Do you want some ice cream, Scar?” Wren calls from the kitchen.
“Baby, I want some,” Miles chimes up from his spot across from me on the sofa. Kennedy rolls her eyes and I scoff.
“I wasn’t asking you,” Wren retorts. Miles sulks in his seat, pouting his lip and crossing his arms. God, he’s such a baby. How does Wren cope? She also can’t resist him sometimes, so she asks, “What flavour do you want?”
“Chocolate, please,” he replies happily, grinning at me like he won the lottery. I stick my tongue out at him, and he sticks his out at me. See? He’s such a baby.
“Do you want a croissant, Scarlett?” Wren asks again.
“My answer is the same as before, Wrenny,” I say, trying not to laugh at her protective tendencies.
“You’ve got to eat something. I’m worried about you,” she says, and I don’t have to look behind me to tell she’s frowning. She’s like a full-time mom right now. Each week, we switch who gets to play the mother and clearly this week it’s Wren’s turn.
“Well, don’t be,” I say. “We just had pizza.” I turn to Miles, narrowing my eyes at him as he eats the chips on the table. “Your boyfriend is the one with a vacuum for a mouth.”
Miles flips me off as Wren laughs, padding into the room with two bowls of ice cream. She hands one to Kennedy in her bean bag as she retrieves it happily and gives the other to Miles before she slides into his lap. I hit play on the episode of New Girl we’re watching, and we all fall into a comfortable silence.
Even with Wren and Kennedy up my ass every two minutes making sure I’m okay, I’m getting used to preferring this over solitude. They make everything feel better. It helps me feel like everything is going to be okay. If I want to ignore something, they’ll pretend it never happened. If I want to shit-talk somebody, they’ll do it happily. They just get me and allow me to exist without feeling like a burden.
♫ It’ll Be Okay by Shawn Mendes
When the episode transitions into a new one, I use the opportunity to sneak into the kitchen for a drink. We’ve been stocked on — what Kennedy calls — ‘Sad Snacks’ for the last few days, the girls insisting that I need them.
As I reach for the shelf where the glasses are, I’m hit with strong déjà vu, remembering Evan towering over me, touching my waist, his breath hot on my neck. The way I could feel his eyes lingering on my almost naked body. His strong, hot hand holding me, steadying me.
“Do you want me to get that for you?”
I turn around and Miles is behind me, placing the bowls into the sink. I realise that I must have been frozen on my way up to get the glass and he tilts his head to the side curiously. I blink at him a few times, trying to get the image of Evan out of my head.
“I’m okay,” I say, jumping slightly to reach it. I almost miss it, but I end up getting it anyway, triumphant as I move to the fridge to fill up the glass with the water dispenser. I’m ready to make my escape back to my seat, but Miles grips onto my elbow, pulling me back into the kitchen. “Can I help you, Davis?”
“Actually, you can,” he says cheerfully. “Do you think you could possibly, maybe, definitely be friends with Evan again?”
Miles and I’s relationship isn’t as close as it could be, so I don’t know why he’s asking me. He’s dating my best friend. I hear him fucking her more often than I’d like and he’s annoyingly good to her. He likes to irritate me and call everyone stupid nicknames. And he talks too much, too. I guess we’re alike in that department.
“I know what he did was fucked up, but he cares about you, Scarlett. I’ve never seen him cry the way he did when he came back that night,” he says thickly, and it feels like a punch to the stomach.
“Are you trying to make me feel even worse than I do, Davis?” I ask, looking to the ground and then back up at him. He’s watching me, trying to figure me out.
“You feel bad?” he asks, genuinely shocked.
“Of course, I do. I know I shouldn’t because he’s the one that hurt me, but I know that he’s never had a malicious bone in his body. I know he’s been waiting for me to look up and notice him, but I’ve been too stubborn and scared to admit that he’s not actually a bad person. He’s done countless nice things for me to make up for it and I was too frightened to let him.”
Miles’ mouth hangs open in an ‘O’ shape as if I just told him Victoria’s secret. I don’t know what he and Evan have been talking about, but he looks like he’s seen a ghost.
“Then tell him that,” he says, exasperated.
“Go and tell him that. He’s been making himself sick over you, Scar, and his bad mood is bringing down the vibes. Go and tell him that you’re sorry, that you love him so we can all move on with our lives already.”
“I never said I love him,” I say defensively.
“You didn’t have to,” Miles mutters. What the hell…. Wren better gets her man in check because he’s seriously confusing me right now. “I’m not trying to force you, obviously. That will come on your own time, but it sounds to me that you understand each other more than you realise, and I can’t take him looking like a sad puppy all day. Honestly, I think he’d prefer you to scream at him rather than this silence.”
“Do you really think so?” I ask quietly.
“Oh, I know so, Scarely,” he replies, grinning. He really surprised me with that analysis of our relationship. I don’t know when he started to sound so wise. I knew him back when I dated Jake, and I’ve never heard him talk like this. But he’s back to being annoying. Great.
“Stop calling me that, you dork,” I say, laughing.
“Not until you and Evan become frenemies again,” he challenges.
“Since when were you two besties?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Last I heard, he said you guys weren’t even friends.”
Miles clutches his chest dramatically. “Okay, ouch. He was in denial. We’ve come to a truce.”
“Right…” I drag out, eying him suspiciously.
“All I’m saying is, when you’re ready, put him out of his misery. His bad vibes make me queasy.” He shudders for extra effect.
“You make me queasy,” I mutter as I walk past him, back into the living room.
Maybe I do need to talk to him. I’ve had time to reflect, and I don’t want a good thing to go to waste because I’m scared. Watching Wren and Miles cuddle while we watch the show, they make it seem so easy. Almost dangerously easy.
